Disclaimer: I own nothing.
The longest chapter I've written so far is right in front of you, pushing almost 5000 words xD The ending is kind of rushed though, but I wanted to do a cliffhanger. Sorry, sorry!
Chapter 54: Beneath the Waning Light
Murtagh was awakened before dawn by the nightmares brought about by dread. He felt stiff and cold from sleeping in his armor. Beside him, Thorn was still asleep, smoke curling up from his nose. Hearing some rustling, he rose to his feet as quietly as he could, clutching Eldsvard tightly. A figure strode toward them, and it was someone quite familiar.
Brom was dressed similarly to the Riders, armed and ready for battle. Undbitr hung from his hip, a shield strapped to his back. He sat down by the campfire, staring into its depths with his red-brown eyes. Murtagh approached him.
"Why aren't you sleeping?" he asked his master.
"The same could be asked of you," Brom grunted, moving aside to give his pupil more room. He stared at Murtagh. "You need your sleep, lad. Your parents wouldn't appreciate it if lack of sleep got you killed."
"My mother, maybe. Speaking of which, where is she?"
"Sent to summon the dwarves." Brom gave his pupil a sly look. "Worried about her, are we? She is with one of our other agents, Ismira. I'm sure you know her very well."
Murtagh nodded. "You spoke of parents. Not just Selena. Brom, is our father here? If he is, Eragon and I have a right to know!"
Brom stared at him quietly, his eyes seemingly flickering red in the firelight. "Yes, your father is here, in this very camp. Maybe I should have introduced him to you and your brother but with the events that transpired today, there was no chance for me to do so. And besides, maybe we should wait until all is said and done today. At least that will give you something to look forward to."
"What if… what if he doesn't want to meet us? He never searched for us while we grew up in Carvahall."
Brom laughed. "Your father cared so much about you lads. That was why he never tried to reveal his existence. It would have placed you both in danger."
Around them, the first rays of dawn broke through the murky darkness. Murtagh quickly extinguished the campfire as the others stirred. They all ate some of their meager supply of food, which was distributed the previous day. Murtagh exchanged glances with Thorn, wh did not seem to be worried or even the slightest bit terrified.
The king will know our wrath, the ruby dragon said in excitement. His bloodlust seeped through Murtagh, who did his best to block it off. He had to keep a clear mind during battle, or else it might cost him his life. I have waited so long for this!
Do you not even consider the possibility of the Forsworn – or even Galbatorix himself appearing? It is no cause for excitement. We are untested, weak and inexperienced compared to them.
What better way to test our strength and gaining experience than by battling them?
Murtagh shook his head, afraid that his dragon was not taking things seriously. He barely finished drinking from his waterskin when Katrina straightened up, a look of panic on her face. "It is time," she said, rubbing her forehead.
Everyone clambered to their feet. Brom clapped his pupils' shoulders before he departed, Angela tailing him. Murtagh clambered up Thorn's saddle deftly as the Kull and the dwarves surrounded the dragon. As one, the group hurried to the gap in the defenses which was created during the night. Warriors of the Varden were already pouring out and forming ranks, the Urgals doing the same at a distance.
Everyone's armor was padded with rags so as not to alert the Empire, and Murtagh thought it was a good were still so dismally few, though. Melikir passed by, trailed by Faolin, Trianna, and Brom. They spared little more than nods before moving away.
The fiery vapor collected low over the ground during the night, and the vivid sunlight above gave them an opaque appearance. Of course, that was to their advantage, as they have crossed three-quarters of the no-man's-land before they were detected. Alarm horns blared before them.
"Katrina, Eragon, tell Orrin to strike," Melikir shouted. "To me, men of the Varden! Fight to win back our freedom! Fight to save our homes! Guard your wives and children. The time to overthrow Galbatorix is nigh. Charge!"
Eragon and Katrina must have managed to contact Barden, King Orrin's spellcaster companion, because Orrin's calvalry arrived, joined by the Kull. Those massive Urgals could keep up with horses, and outpace less than quality ones. They galloped out of the east, charging into the Empire's flank and pushing the soldiers toward the Jiet River. That left the rest of the Varden to cross the distance unopposed.
With a roar that shook the entire Burning Plains, the two armies clashed, weapons colliding with weapons, shields and armors clanging. Crows and other carrion-eating birds circled them, crying out in excitement and sensign the fresh meat below.
Ignoring the wards sapping his strength as they deflected attacks from everyone he was protecting, Murtagh joined minds with the other Riders, led by Eragon and Katrina. They fired arrows at the enemies as they moved away from the leading edge of the battle, which would expose them to enemy magicians – which they were searching for, as a matter of fact.
Katrina was alerted by Du Vrangr Gata as they found the first enemy spellcaster. With her help, they connected their minds to the woman who made the discovery and then to the mage she was locked in battle with. Once they were sure that he would be more than able to, they left Eragon to deal with the mage, as another mage alerted them of another enemy spellcaster.
One by one, the Riders launched an assault against their spellcasting foes, breaking through their defenses and using them to breach through enemy lines and kill multiple soldiers and finally, the spellcasters themselves.
Though the feat was amazing, and displayed how far they have come since the battle in Farthen Dur, Murtagh still felt disgusted. How many of these men were simply forced by the king to fight for his mad whims?
There is no time for us to think of such things, Thorn scolded.
Murtagh nodded grudgingly as he launched another assault with Katrina's guidance.
The Empire began to recover from the initial shock and began to work with their engines of war, catapaults launching ceramic missiles, trebuchets bringing forth liquid fire, and ballistae that caused six-foot-long arrows to rain upon them
Murtagh felt like throwing up when he saw one of the ceramic balls fall not far from where Eragon and Saphira were standing. He had no time to run and help, though, as he used his magic to redirect a falling ball of fire back to the enemy lines. The engines sowed mayhem, keeping the Varden in place.
Murtagh – Murtagh, can you hear me? He suddenly realized that Vanir was trying to contact him. Are you well?
I'm… well, he managed to reply. What is it?
Brom says we must dismantle those engines if we wish to survive this day.
I was realizing that… but how? Our dragons can't just fly in and blow them up. Murtagh, Thorn, and their guards fought off some soldiers that managed to push through the Varden's defenses. He scrambled around to find Vanir's mind again. Magic is out of the question.
Someone else pressed against his consciousness. Eragon. So he was well. Through him, the other Rider and dragon pairs were interconnected once more. Those catapaults are guarded by soldiers. Probably defended by a magician, but I'm sure we can dominate their minds. Once we break through their defenses…
…We can use them to wreak havoc and destroy their engines, Murtagh said excitedly. Little brother, you are brilliant.
Roran mentally smirked. Not so little anymore.
Nothing could have prepared Vanir for the horrors of war. For all the education and training he received as an elf in Ellesmera, and later as a Rider-in-training, the amount of effort and the stress of battling enemy magicians began to wear him down, as much as he hated to admit it. He and his fellow Riders – his friends, he grudgingly realized – spent the last hour or so breaking through spellcasting foes' defenses and manipulating them in different ways before ending their lives.
The glory of battle and slaying foes was so amazing in stories. Not much so in real life, he told Diamanda, feeling sick to the core.
The white dragon – smaller than her companions – reared, clawing an approaching enemy soldier who stabbed a dwarf in the thigh. There is time to grieve later. For now, we defend ourselves and our freedom!
Vanir nodded, reaching out to heal his dwarven guard. How many must die for their cause? How many must die for him and his dragon?
At the back of his head, he could feel his fellow Riders and their dragons' emotions, a small knot of connection that they maintained in case of emergency. The rest of his mind was well-defended against enemies. Someone tugged at that connection.
Melikir is here. It was Nasuada, sounding as weary as Vanir felt. He wants us to fight. Show ourselves. The Varden's morale must be raised. Besides, it might frighten the soldiers.
The Varden needs Riders, agreed Arya. The elf princess sounded so weary. And they shall have them.
It is madness, Vanir said, sure that exposing themselves would cause so much harm. But we are here.
Diamanda turned to him, pride glinting in her stormy eyes. You have me.
Vanir smiled and turned to his dwarven guards and the lone Urgal. "We will do battle now. Protect Diamanda's side. Do not interfere."
The Urgal looked worried. "But you will be overrun, Lightblade."
"Trust me." Vanir smiled, turning to Diamanda. "Are you ready to show them what it is to battle a Rider?"
Of course.
Opening his mind like he never did before, Vanir and Diamanda's identities and thoughts seemed to meld. He was not sure if the claws were his, or if the sword was hers. They charged together, screaming and roaring as one. The other shouts and roars of defiance told him that around the plains, their friends were holding their own, fighting to defend themselves and their allies.
The waves of soldiers never seemed to cease, no matter how many Vanir and Diamanda slew. Fresh warriors took the place of their fallen comrades, no matter how fast or how stealthily Vanir worked. There is too many of them. What do we do?
We fight.
I do not think that is enough.
The hours seemed to drag on, dragon and Rider accumulating so many injuries, some so minor, some not so, but together were serious problems. Three dwarven warriors lay dead behind them. There was time to mourn later, though. They prepared their final assault.
A loud trumpet blared in the east. "The dwarves are here," King Orrin shouted.
Let us see for ourselves, Diamanda said in excitement.
Vanir tiredly clambered up her back, and the dragon rose on her tattered wings, hovering in the air. With flashes of liht, the other dragons joined them, the faces of their tired Riders lit up in hope. A great host of warriors marched out of the east, mail and weapons glinting. At its head must be King Hrothgar, his armor golden, his helm adorned with jewels. He bore an ancient war hammer that must have been Volund. In greeting, the dragons and their Riders roared with glee.
The Varden cheered hopefully, while the Empire's soldiers hesitated, afraid and unsure.
It's them. Hrothgar seems to have brought all the dwarves with him, Eragon said with pride.
Murtagh agreed. We will crush the Empire easily!
Overconfidence? Roran asked in amusement.
M-mother is with them, Katrina said, stunned.
Two human women marched beside the king. The one on the right was short and had wavy copper hair and fair skin, and looked like an older version of Katrina. She wore plain armor and was armed with a knife and a spear. The other woman was taller, with curly red-brown hair streaked with gray. She wore dark armor and a black cloak.
Selena Nightblade, Aesyr said, mostly for Vanir's benefit. Our mother.
Vanir felt something hot bubble within him. He raised his pearly, bloodstained blade high in the air. "What are you waiting for? It's time for us to fight for our freedom, and remind these filthy cowards not to underestimate us. We fight!"
The dragons began to dive, when someone called out from the west. "A ship is coming up the Jiet River!"
Weary from a day of rowing, Garrow stood at the prow of the Dragon Wing, watching the orange water churning around them. A bank of sooty clouds danced ahead, concealing the rest of the river. Elain stood beside him, a hand on her belly. "This water is unnatural. It could be evil. Was it wise for us to drag ourselves further into trouble? We could have stayed in Dauth."
They left the Southern Isles after the Boar's eye and managed to reach the Surdan port city, Dauth. The governor, Lady Alarice, accepted them with enthusiasm and offered them a place in the city where they could continue their trades and forge better lives. Many of the villagers wanted to stay, but most wanted to forge on, to fight for a better future.
That was difficult, but Lady Alarice understood their quest. After a few days of rest wherein the governor assisted them in stocking up, they departed once more. They then continued up the Jiet River to help the Varden.
Garrow was not sure if he was just being selfish. He wanted to see his sons and help them. But it might also get them all killed.
"That is not a pretty side," Sloan said on his other side, as the sailors on deck muttered protective charms and clutched stone amulets to ward off the evil eye. "Superstitious bunch, those sailors."
"Hush," Elain said. "What is that?"
The clanging sound of metal striking metal could be heard faintly. "That's it, our sign," Garrow said in excitement. He searched for Uthar behind them. "Captain, battle just ahead!"
Uthar roared instructions, prodding his men to the ballistae and yelling for the oarsmen to speed up. The Dragon Wing bustled with activity, but Garrow stayed in place, his gut twisting uncomfortably as the sound of battle grew louder, mixed with screams of men and terrifying roars of a fearsome beast.
Hopefully, those were Brom's pupils, and not the fearsome mounts of the Forsworn.
Jeod joined them, Helen shuffling beside him. The merchant looked pale and worried. He regarded the two pregnant women in the vicinity. "It might be safer if you stay downstairs."
"No," Helen and Elain said at the same time. They stared at each other and smiled. The two women started an odd friendship since the beginning of the voyage.
"Have you been in battle before?" Garrow asked quietly.
Jeod smiled dryly and shook his head. Fear was reflected in his dark eyes, though. "No. I've got into fights while working with Brom, and I've seen him duel – and beat – Morzan, but nothing like a full-scale war."
"Well, this will be the first for the two of us."
"Aye. I am not looking forward to that."
The smoke to the right thinned, revealing a dark land spewing forth fire and vapor. Men struggled on the surface. Differentiating the Empire and the Varden was difficult, but Garrow was sure that the right nudge could tip it the other way. They could be the force that could apply it.
A voice echoed over the water as a man shouted, detecting them.
"This is a fantastic entrance," Sloan noted.
Garrow glanced at the pregnant women. "You must go belowdecks. I know you would like to see the Varden, but it might be more dangerous than it seems."
"Very well," Helen said. She exchanged a kiss with Jeod and tuged at Elain's hand.
They passed by Horst, who nodded approvingly as he handed the men one of Fisk's shields. "We might need them before the day is over."
"Thanks," Garrow muttered.
"Better if we don't," Sloan said.
The rest of the butcher's words were drown out as the air around them vibrated with a massive thud, like a heavy blow.
Panic seeped through Roran's composure. What do we do?
The dwarves are here. We're more than capable of holding our own, announced Brom, his voice echoing in the Riders' minds. It would be easy for you to sink that ship, Riders. I want you to investigate it.
Together? Arya asked. Surely that's a bit much.
We're on equal footing with the Empire now. Maybe even at an advantage. If that ship is a threat, you must make short work of it.
As you wish. Eragon surveyed the seven other Riders. "You know what to do. Let's go."
The dragons circled the battlefield thrice, gaining altitude. Roran's panic was magnified by Askanir's worry. We cannot afford to have more foes, the violet dragon said wearily. I hate to tell you this, but we are all exhausted.
I know, Roran whispered. Can it be too much to hope for reinforcements on our side?
The fighting was now scattered into groups of smaller battles, upon which the dwarves launched themselves into. Following Eragon and Saphira's lead, the dragons soared high, toward the Jiet river. The wind was blowing strongly, keeping their surroundings clear of smoke. It revealed a massive, three-masted ship that made it way against the current with two banks of oars. It was battered, and flew no colors to indicate its allegiance.
Still could be an enemy, Askanir said. Be on your guard.
The loud, thudding sound grew louderThere was a yell of joy and elation above them, and Garrow looked up. Eight jewel-bright dragons – six larger than the other two – hovered before them, diving out of the shifting clouds. The Riders atop the bigger ones were familiar, as they have rescued him from Enduriel. Four of them came from Carvahall, and three were his sons.
He knew five of the human Riders, and was quite personally close to four. It was like someone altered their faces, making them more noble, more feline. One of the two newcomers also resembled someone he knew. She resembled a younger Selena, altered in the same way. The eight were clad in noble clothing and armor, iridescent blades held at the ready.
They were dangerous, powerful, and beautiful.
Garrow smiled as he watched the people watching them, some of who probably did not believe his and Jeod's stories completely. Now they did, though. A powerful wave of emotion washed through him – relief, love, and awe. His sons were not alone, and they were now fit to become legends.
The violet dragon – Askanir, if Garrow's memory served him well – moved forward, colors and hues shifting playfully. Roran leaned forward, a joyous smile on his face. "Father!" he called out. "Is everyone from Carvhal here?" His wondering eyes took in Horst and Sloan, who was engaged in an amazed conversation with Katrina.
"Yes, just about," Garrow replied, still unable to get over his shock. "What happened to your… to your faces?"
Murtagh and Thorn hovered beside Roran. "Hello, Uncle. It's a long story, and we want to do it justice. There's someone we wish to introduce to you before we leave, though."
Eragon and Saphira came forward, followed by the smaller black dragon and the Rider who resembled Selena. "Uncle! We really have so much to tell you, but so little time. This is our sister, Aesyr. She's also your niece, I guess, since she is also Selena's daughter. We'll tell you more later."
"Pleased to meet you, Uncle," the girl said with a shy smile.
"Like we said, we shall catch up later," Roran said matter-of-factly. "There's not much time, Father. Please stay where you are until the battle is decided, or maybe farther down the river. We can't let the Empire attack you."
"But I want to help you, my sons." Garrow felt torn. He wanted to help his sons, yes, but he also had to protect the villagers and the ship.
The three lads exchanged looks that he knew quite well. Roran turned back to face him. "Please. For us."
"Very well," Garrow said, forcing himself to nod. He could always revise his plans.
Murtagh smiled. "We shall see you later."
"Believe me, Uncle, we could spend weeks after this just to catch up." Eragon motioned to the other Riders, and their dragons veered off, back into the battle.
Sloan was still watching the departing dragons with a look of awe. "Maybe all of these hardships were worth it. Dragons… real dragons… and Riders… my daughter…"
Horst nodded, eyes wide. "I never thought I'd see this day, much less that it would be Katrina and those three lads!" He shook his head and smiled. "Your sons are amazing, Garrow."
Jeod smiled so widely, his face must have split in half. "Real dragons, aye, that was truly a sight to see!"
Garrow frowned. They had to help. He knew that his sons needed him more than anything. He turned away, ignoring the other men's shouts, and approached Uthar at the quarterdeck. "Ground the ship. Stay here with the rest of the soldiers, use the ballistae, wreak havoc. Keep the ship from being grounded at all cost. Guard our families with your lives."
The captain took a moment before he nodded. "Aye, aye. Good luck with whatever you are planning to do, Deftblade."
Horst arrived, tailed by Sloan. "What exactly are you planning?"
"We could help," the butcher added, invigorated by the sight of his daughter.
Garrow laughed and turned to face the two men. "Are you sure you are up to it? Both of you? I am planning to carve my way into the very fate of Alagaesia, my good men. Are you with me?"
Roran did not know what to feel. He knew that his father was surprised by their changes, but he also felt the man's affection, which was as steady as the mountains in Palancar Valley. He could not help but worry. What if his father decided to join the battle? He was unarmed, untrained, and unprepared. He might accidentally get hurt, or killed.
He is your sire. He will do what is right, Askanir assured him. I can feel it.
Arya caught Roran's eye and smiled. "I am glad to know your father is safe and well. When we left him in Gil'ead, I was worried for some time. He is a good man, and it would be poor repayment by the fates if misfortune was to befall him."
"I just hope he stays out of danger," Murtagh said. "I am afraid of what will happen if any harm comes to him."
Katrina cleared her throat. "As everyone was so preoccupied, I have took it upon myself to tell our allies that the ship is not an enemy," she said.
The dragons alighted and approached the dwarven king. "Hail, Shur'tugal! Hail, skulblaka! It seems like the elves did more for you than was promised!"
"No, sir," Murtagh said. "It was actually the dragons."
Hrothgar smiled beatifically. "I shall be glad to hear of your adventures once today's bloody work is over. I am glad that you have accepted my offer to join Durgrimst Ingeitum. It is an honor to have you as mine kin, Murtagh, Eragon."
"And it is an honor have you as our kin," Eragon said with a smile, Murtagh echoing his words with an equally wide smile.
After a brief exchange with the other Riders and the dragons, Hrothgar hefted Volund, his eyes gleaming. He faced his warriors with excitement on his weathered face. "Akh sartos oen durgrimst!"
"Vor Hrothgarz korda!" the warriors repeated to him.
Orik beamed at the Riders. "By Hrothgar's hammer!" he translated, and the Riders joined the chant.
The dragons launched themselves at the crimson tide of the Empire's soldiers. The battle tipped to the Varden's favor as they pushed the Empire back, smiting the vast army, assisted by Angela's poisons. Multiple officers began to give out odd, irrational orders that helped the Varden gain the upper leg. Hundreds of enemy soldiers began to surrender, some outright defected and attacked their former comrades, and still more simply fled.
With this turn of events, late afternoon arrived, making the odd lighting of the plains even more garrish. Roran dispatched a group of soldiers who were heckling Vanir and an injured spellcaster that he was trying t heal. High above them, a flaming javelin flew and buried itself on one of the Empire's command tents. As Roran straightened up, yet more flaming missiles launched from the ship resting on the banks of the Jiet River.
"What are they doing?" Vanir asked, a look of wonder in his eyes.
"My father, I think he's trying to help," Roran said, helping the spellcaster stand up as the elf finished healing him. "I just hope he doesn't draw attention to the ship."
Horns began to echo at the back of the enemy army, followed by a booming drum. The beat seemed to pound against Roran's battered and exhausted mind. Letting the spellcaster stagger to the main body of the Varden's army, the two Riders exchanged glances.
"That cannot be good," Vanir said, clutching his sword.
Askanir hovered before Roran, Diamanda right beside him. Come,he said. We must join the others. I can feel that it is important.
Roran did not ask any questions. Fluidly, he leapt up his dragon's back. To his left, Vanir did the same. They joined the other Riders, who all looked exhausted beyond compare. Ominous figures departed from the northern horizon, heading straight toward the battlefield. At first, Roran thought it was another of the Lethrblaka, the Ra'zac's dearly departed mounts. But then, a cloud shifted above them, and a ray of light hit the oncoming figures.
Eight dragons headed for them, led by a massive red one.
"By the lost kings," Eragon said breathlessly. "The Forsworn… and Galbatorix must have managed to hatch two of the other eggs."
Time seemed to freeze as the two groups of Riders regarded each other.
The Rider of the red dragon leading the foes was a figure straight out of Roran's nightmares. It was Morzan, whom they encountered and narrowly escaped what felt like so long ago. His wine-red blade, Zar'roc, glinted maliciously in the late afternoon light, and his dragon, Alfara, had blood-red eyes which glinted with cruel glee.
To their left, the lurid orange dragon Melvir hovered with his equally terrible Rider, the mad elf Enduriel, sitting atop him. The Forsworn's orange blade, Lamarias, was held out in front of him. To Morzan's left was the brown dragon Belarion and the slender elf Kialandi, his blade, Ristvak, concealed for the time being. Close beside them were the bloodthirsty elf, Formora, and her dragon Fiyar. Like her mate, her massive sword, Cleaver, was concealed. To Melvir and Enduriel's other side was a slender gray dragon, Shariva, and her human Rider, Insilbeth, her dark hair draped like a sheet around her face and down her back, her steel-colored blade, Widowmaker, held out before her. Directly behind Morzan was the last of the six remaining Forsworn, another human named Kifain, and his oddly colored dragon, Palasin, that could only be described as… pink. He was odder than the rest combined, with his garishly painted white face, red lips, and the red war paint around his eyes. A circlet rested upon his brow, a single white plume jutting through his hay-colored hair. His lurid sword, Deathdream, was held precariously on one hand.
A little more behind them were a pale yellow and an icy blue pair, much smaller than the others, closer in size to Askanir and his peers. Their Riders were concealed by their helms.
Finished assessing each other, the two sets of dragons and Riders seemed to unfreeze. Morzan raised his hand, and a wine-red shaft of energy sprang from his palm, flying straight toward Hrothgar. With a cry, Murtagh and Thorn lurched forward at full speed as the dwarven king's spellcasters keeled over, dead.
Worry and fear jolted Roran back into action. With Eragon and Saphira right behind them, he and Askanir launched themselves toward Murtagh and Thorn. He had to save him. He was eldest, responsible for the welfare of the twins.
"Murtagh, no! No!" Vanir flung himself toward them with Diamanda, his composure gone, replaced by pure worry and terror. He was as changed as the rest of them.
Murtagh raised his sword, which made contact with Morzan's spell.
I vaguely remembered mentioning a year ago that I wanted to make a running gag that involved Murtagh and cliffhangers...
I wasn't bedridden because of the wisdom tooth, though the rainy season probably caused it. We've been flooded a couple times outside too, so I was stuck at home with my little brother and a fried modem.
And yep, Vanir is still all haughty and proud, but I sure am glad to see that his armor does have weaknesses! XD And like I mentioned way, way, back, the Banishing of Names DID NOT TAKE PLACE. I repeat, the Banishing of Names DID NOT TAKE PLACE, my dear readers... though the Eldunari did make the Forsworn crazier than I think they were in Inheritance...
Oh, and one of them is based on my favorite villain of all time. Virtual cookies to those who spot the particular Forsworn and the villain that I derived him/her from.
So who do you think will duel? I'm betting on Murtagh vs Morzan and Roran vs Enduriel. I guess Arya has dibs on Kialandi, who I mentioned murdered Evandar in chapter 2. Aesyr and Vanir will lay the smackdown on the newer enemy Riders, no matter who they end up being. *wink wink, nudge nudge*
Read and review, as always!