Chapter One: The Dreamer
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Their house was burning, and Eragon was furiously trying to remove rubble, trying to find his Uncle, Garrow. His cousin, Roran, had moved a few weeks earlier, seeking work in one of the neighboring towns, and it just left Eragon and Garrow in their house, bordering on the edge of Carvanhall.
"Garrow! Uncle! Where- where are you!?" Eragon sat back on the back of his legs, gazing around, anxiously trying to find his Uncle. He had been gone for the day, taking care of his tiny new dragon, but after he had made it a nest and returned to their house for the day, he found it blazing.
A coughing sound brought him out of his anxious thoughts, and he lept up, near sprinting to the noise. "Uncle! Are- are you there? Where are you you?" A groaned noise this time, and Eragon began moving pieces of charred wood beams that were in a pile, and when he did, his heart near stopped at what he saw.
His Uncle, covered in ash and burns, had a broken off piece of wood sticking out of his stomach.
"Uncle! You're hurt! We need- need to get you somewhere, to heal-"
His Uncle grabbed his arm, pulling him close. His eyes were closed, and he seemed to have trouble breathing. A thin line of blood began to leak from his mouth, and Eragon felt tears begin to start behind his eyes.
"Eragon… there isn't any hope for me… find… Roran… and… go seek Brom… he can help… you."
Eragon felt tears now freely flowing down his face, the closest thing he'd ever had to a father dying in his arms, and he tried to grab his Uncle's arm, to lift him up. But the piece of wood was too deep, and his Uncle let out a loud groan of pain, and Eragon quickly set himself back down.
"… Eragon, I have always been… proud of you… your mother… would have… been as well. Now… go!" His Uncle, weak as he was, lightly shoved at Eragon, urging him to leave and go seek out his cousin. And Eragon, saddened as he was to do so, ran.
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Running through the Spine now, Eragon quickly made his way to wear he had left his newly hatched dragon, and had no reason to suspect someone was following him.
Equipped only with his bow, he hastily trekked through the wood line of the Spine, maneuvering himself through the dense greenery of the forrest in which he explored all of his life.
He had left his dragon in a tree, high up in the branches and in a makeshift nest, safe from the predators that freely roamed the Spine, and he continued onward, his thoughts roamed freely.
Who would have set his house of fire? Why? And for what purpose? His Uncle didn't have any enemies as far as he knew, and he had made sure that he had properly hidden Saphira. Hardly no one ever went into the Spine, and he had gone a decent way into its depths when he had hidden her. Who could have-
A crack of a branch brought him out of his thoughts, and he snapped his head towards the noise. Darkness surrounded them, and there was no other noise besides the insects and birds around them. Another crack, and he drew his bow, notching an arrow as he did so, and aimed towards the noise.
Waiting for something that never came, he put his arrow back and he slung his onto his back, and continued trekking on.
When he had reached Saphira, he felt an uneasy breath leave him, and through their mental bond, he reassured the young dragon, who was quite uneasy after feeling his distress flow through their bond. He quickly pet her snout, with Saphira making happy chirping noises. He picked her up, scratching under her chin, and placing her in his arms, and turned around.
"Why hello there, Dragon Riderrr." A creature hissed before him, cloaked, but with a sword, and Eragon quickly set Saphira down behind him and drew his bow, aiming for the unknown assailant.
"Who are you? Did you kill my Uncle?!"
The creature laughed, a hideous, ugly thing, before it stepped forward, with Eragon and Saphira stepping back at the same time. Another creature stepped forward, looking similar to the first one, and it chuckled as well.
"We… are the Ra'Zac, human. Our King has sssent usss for you. Interested he is, in your young… dragon."
Saphira, sensing the tone in the creatures voice, scurried behind Eragon's leg, and he willed himself as he aimed for the first creature.
"Did you kill my Uncle?!?" One of the creatures began to circle around him, the other one doing the same, and the taller of the two answered him.
"The pathetic human, you mean? Yessss, little rider, we did. And it worked… drawing you out to your precioussss little dragon… and now, we will take you to our King…"
The Ra'Zac to his side, the shorter of the two, arc'd his leaf sword high and tried to cleave at the Dragon Rider, and he quickly dodged the would be harming blow, barely managing to duck underneath. The other Ra'Zac swung at him, and he quickly let his arrow fly, it striking the Taller Ra'Zac in the chest, sending him falling backwards, unmoving.
"You'll pay for that… human!" The shorter Ra'Zac, now enraged, began to wildly swing around him and he had to dodge left, dodge right, and he wildly began to backpedal as the Ra'Zac rapidly approached him swinging angrily. With his back now pressed against a tree, Eragon fell to his knees, the Ra'Zac's leaf blade just barely dodging Eragon's head, and he quickly smacked the Ra'Zac with his bow in the stomach, it barely doing anything to the bird like creature. Abandoning his blade, its claw like hands swiped at Eragon, drawing blood on his cheek as he quickly entered a struggle with the Ra'Zac.
Pushing himself off of the tree, he was now on top of the Ra'Zac and began swinging down on the creature, whose beak proved quite effective, and Eragon withdrew his hand, blood now gashing from where the bird had just bitten out part of his finger.
It spit out blood at him, and Eragon wiped his eyes, as the claws of the creature began to dig into his sides, causing him to yell out. He head butted the Ra'Zac, something that left his nose bleeding, and quickly pulled out an arrow, jamming it into the Ra'Zac's stomach. It pitifully tried to pull it out, lightly swiping at Eragon in an attempt to injure him, before stopping, the creature dead due to Eragon's arrow.
He heaved deep breaths, the exhaustion settling in as he leaned back on his knees and swiped blood from his face, and grunted out in pain as he felt at his sides, a small flow of blood leaking steadily from his wounds from the Ra'Zac.
Saphira!
Quickly whipping around, he glanced around for his tiny dragon, his heart stopping in its tracks as he saw what was happening behind him.
The other Ra'Zac, the one he thought he had killed with his first arrow, was holding Saphira close to him with a knife, a small cut adorning her long angular face, and she was squeaking in both pain and anger at being held by such a creature. It let out a wretched, wet laugh, probably due to the wound of the arrow, and pressed the knife further into his dragon, with Saphira squeaking out louder in pain from the knife.
"Wait! Wait… I'll… do whatever you want… just… don't hurt her." He fell to his knees, his body not able to hold himself up after his fight between the two creatures, and the Ra'Zac laughed as his now victory had become apparent.
"Alwayssss ssso… weak, the Riders were without their dragonssss. Very well… come with me."
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The Ra'Zac had moved them out of the Spine, and further down south, and had met up with a small group of soldiers from the Empire, their journey had been long, but Eragon had been unable to do anything regarding his current predicament.
Saphira had been held in a separate tent, away from him, and the Empire's men had only given him bread and water, keeping him weak, unable to do anything regarding the situation.
They hadn't made any further attempts to harm the two of them, but with how much food he was getting, he was weak, and frail. Unable to fight against the band of men who were holding them.
The Ra'Zac had left as soon as Eragon had been transferred to the soldiers, and they moved south, father then Eragon had ever been before.
He tried asking the soldiers where they were going to, but they never told him, and he couldn't read, so their maps and papers they had with them meant nothing to him, which was something they throughly rubbed in his face.
But as long as Saphira was okay… that was all that mattered to him.
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The city that was before Eragon was… massive.
It's walls stood higher than anything Eragon had ever seen before, and all in all, Eragon was quite in awe of what we was seeing. The group of men escorting him had taken him here and as they brought him into the city, Eragon had a sense of foreboding. Still holding Saphira from him, he was only able to gently reassure him through their connection, but he could feel that she was still worried.
He couldn't blame her.
They quickly moved through the city, with people turning a blind eye to the soldiers escorting the young man through them, and with Eragon cuffed, he figured he look quite the criminal.
They marched through the city, with most of the men being switched out with some of the city guard, but the still marched him inwards, towards a giant hold of some kind.
As they came closer and closer to the keep, as that was only what it could've been due to its size, he felt a deep sense of foreboding, and was quite anxious as to what laid within.
The keep itself, when they finally got to it, was dark, lit only with small torches lining the halls, and they continued to march him down the halls, and when they got to a large room at the end of the hall, Saphira was lead one way, and Eragon was shoved into the room.
"You can't- you can't keep me from her! Please!" One of the guards seemed a little put off, but the other jammed the hilt of his sword into Eragon's side, causing him to cry out due to his still healing wounds, and Saphira angrily cried out, biting the one holding her and the guard grunted, before roughly grabbing Saphira.
"Listen, beast… do that again, and you'll regret it."
"That… won't be necessary." A man's voice called out from the hall, and Eragon figured he must have been important as the soldiers straightened up, and the one that had threatened Saphira looked uneasy.
"Of- of course, my Lord. We uh- have the prisoner, as ordered. What do you wish us to do with him?"
The man, a Lord according to the soldier, walked slowly towards them and Eragon got a good look at the man. With maroon hair, and a pale face, the man was quite intimidating, and he had a sword hung on his hip, one with a long gash running down it, and the man was quite intimidating.
"Hmmm… this is him? The… Dragon Rider. And this… his… Dragon. Separate them. Leave the boy chained, but keep the Dragon safe. The King demands it…" His swiftly turned around, and began to stalk off, his maroon cape billowing behind him as he stalked down the hallway, looking quite menacing as he did so.
The soldiers brought Eragon into his cell, and he barely was able to see Saphira for the last time as she was taken away from him.
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When Eragon awoke, it was to his room, barely lit by a small furnace and musty, and as he shook his head to awaken himself, he realized that he was bare of a shirt, and was only wearing a pair of trousers and his boots, but was hanging from a pair of chains, which were attached to the roof of the cell.
His cell was empty, with only himself and the chains he was being held up in, and Eragon felt himself grow quite restless. Waiting for something to happen, he almost immediately tried to feel for Saphira, but found his senses… diluted.
He could still feel her, but it seemed as if someone had muddied his senses, leaving him numb and confused, unable to grasp what was happening around him. He struggled lightly against the chains, but when nothing happened, he quickly gave up, and simply waited.
A group of soldiers entered, with one carrying a small trey of bread and water, and Eragon was glad to have some food, and water. His lips were chapped, and his belly rumbled involuntarily at the sight of the small loaf of bread.
They fed it to him, but he had only eaten half of it, before the door opened again. The man he had seen yesterday, with maroon hair and the sword, walked in, and the soldiers looked uneasy again, before continuing to feed him.
"Leave us." The voice was cold, and menacing, and the soldiers were quick to lay down the tray and leave the room, eager to get away from the man.
"My name is Durza, and before the King arrived, I am here to… prepare you for him," Durza, during his speech, had laid out a small leather bag, inside of which was a whip, a small assortment of knives, and a few other small tools. "But, that can all be avoided if you swear allegiance to the King. I would not like to make this… unpleasant, but that is up to you."
Eragon remembered what Brom had told him, about how King Galbatorix had slain most of the remaining Riders, and how he was a cruel leader.
Durza stoop patiently before him, his hands help behind his back, and he waited for Eragon's response.
"I'd never join the King." He glared up at Durza, who smiled almost gleefully at that, and he began to laugh freely at what the young rider had said. He turned around, grabbing one of the whips in the leather bag, before turning around once more.
"I'd hope you'd say something like that."
An evil laugh filled the chamber as a whip cracked down on his back. He silently grunted out, but tired to stay strong. For Saphira.
Another sting on his back. The cuts were somehow shallow enough, this pain was nothing to the cuts and injuries he had ever sustained in the Spine. And Durza knew it too as he went back to the bag, retrieving something else.
He pulled a chain from the little bag and he repeatedly hit the Rider with those. Eragon cried out after a while of this, but when the Shade asked his question again, Eragon gave the same answer.
"Fine."
Durza moved the chain to sit in the furnace for a few minutes.
Eragon shivered in anticipation, he knew what was coming next. But he was stronger, he would be stronger than this.
Durza reached and grabbed the cool part of the chain, yanking it out, and allowing Eragon to see what was about to strike him.
Steam floated off the metal and Eragon already could feel the hot crack across his back. Nothing prepared him for the actual feeling of jt, however. He finally cried out as the searing hot metal burned through his skin, leaving a red mark or bleeding in other places. Durza laughed at this, and began to stalk around him, trying to find new areas to mar his skin.
His now torturer laughed again and hit him again, even harder.
His entire body was covered in bruises or blood with from heat. The whip had gone down a final time and a last resounding crack resulted in a rib cracking. Nearly crying, Eragon took a deep breath, trying to get himself to calm down.
He couldn't give in. Couldn't swear allegiance to the king.
Durza let his chains down and put them back into the bag. He then let Eragon m fell with a nasty crunch on the floor, his own chains falling slack and he huddled in on the floor, his body in a great deal of pain as he breathed heavily.
"Rot here till we start tomorrow… young Rider."
Eragon shuddered in the corner, forcing the tears in his eyes back toward the depths they came from.He let his breathing slow as he thought of Saphira and Roran. Now, only the memories of his dragon and his last remaining family brought him comfort. He tried to get into a more comfortable position, but his body was covered in cuts and bruises, and he fell into a pitiful sleep.
The cell door creaked open once again and Eragon inwardly groaned at the noise. He believed he would have just a little longer before he had to experience it again. The last few days (or maybe it had been weeks) had left Eragon weak, and he missed Carvanhall.
He missed Saphira.
Durza pulled at the chains he was attached to and once again he was left hanging in the middle of the room. He was accompanied next to a few soldiers, and they stood behind him as Durza lifted him.
Water was poured on his face and his mouth was forced open as the drugged liquid was poured down his mouth carelessly, most of it dripping down onto the floor near his feet. A soldier took a few bits of bread stuffed in his mouth, clamping it shut so he had no choice but to swallow if he wanted to breathe. He struggled lightly against them, as well as he could in his current position, but had no choice.
Durza said nothing to him. Instead he dismissed the soldiers and turned his gaze back to the strewn up and injured rider.
"Ready for round two? I do not understand why you resist telling me. No one will come for you," Durza laughed loudly, and began to pace around Eragon. "No one even knows you exist, Little Rider."
Eragon knew the man was right, the only people who knew of him were the people of Carvanhall, but with his house now burned down, he knew no one would look for him.
He felt a sharp edge rake down his back, his blood immediately drawn as it flowed down his back, wounds of yesterday reopening easily as his torture began once more. He steeled himself together and prepared for today, knowing it would be similar to yesterday.
"These past few weeks you have been nothing more than unresponsive. So I created something new for you. Something to inspire… allegiance, to the King."
A long, thin whip lay in his arms, but there was something off about it.
Unsure as to what it was, Eragon looked closer and widened his eyes in alarm. The whip was glistening with broken glass and cut up pieces of metal, as well as some thorns. The material of the whip was doused in some odd substance, oddly reminding him of what he used to assemble his arrows, and then rolled in broken glass, making the whip sharp and menacing.
His understanding initiated some laughter on his torturers part, with Durza coming forward with his whip in hand.
How long had he been here?
He knew not, with his only understanding of time being when Durza entered his room and left his room.
Movement in front of Eragon made him cringe in the expectation of the pain that would surely follow, and Durza laughed before approaching him.
One of the soldiers took a blade and cut the some material from his trousers, leaving him mostly bare. The first crap of the whip came hard on his back, opening up wounds and streaking across the formed scabs. He moved to the front and began assaulting his body from there. The glass caught on his skin and raked across, edging and tearing at his flesh. It did not take long for the Rider to scream in pain, but he still did not break.
The whip came hard on his body once again and soon there was not an inch on his that was not covered in wet blood, it also staining the floor, leaving a small puddle surrounding him.
"We start again tomorrow."
And he was left, hanging still in his chains, his body mostly left to the cold air as the blood dried on him and his wounds scabbed, leaving him shaking in pain.
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Struggling in vain against his chains, he gasped in distress, the noise echoing out slightly in the chamber he was in.
It was no use to make noise, Eragon.
As Durza said, it did him no good.
They were strong, but he was growing weaker and weaker under their daily ministrations.
Sleep eluded him, as it normally did, and he sighed in resignation as Durza opened the cell again. Instead of that accursed whip, he had a small knife with him. It was sharp, but he was slowly forgetting why he could tell. All he knew was that it was a knife. And it was used to cut him almost ever day.
He had blocked the pain, blocking all feelings, and soon, he blocked his memories of the daily tortures he had been experiencing. There was a… connection to something, how he knew he had no idea, but he had been here so long.
Anything he thought he remembered was quickly lost to him, and he had no idea why he was here, what he was doing. Why did they continue to do this to him?
The knife glistened menacingly in front of him, and once again, Eragon steeled his bloody, ravaged muscles for the onslaught.
It moved with painful slowness across his chest, straight down his chest, almost marking his sternum with a long gash. Durza laughed a little, before speaking again.
"This is a new type of torture I have been inventing. The King wishes to make you into his tool, his weapon, and to do so, he has given me free rein to… redecorate you."
The knife pierced his thigh and dragged across a small way before the blood oozed out without abandon, leaving trail like marks down his body.
He was breathing heavily, letting the pain run over him. He felt it slide along his calf muscle, yielding the same results. It made him spasm, which only brought more pain, his already torn muscles and scraps cringing in pain.
The knife raked over his arms, his chest, his legs, even a few times along his face, all to make him feel painful experiences along his body. They told him they were making him new, but what did that mean?
After the next couple of weeks, his entire body was covered in short scars that lined his body and face in multiple places. The cuts were no more than an inch long, but thousands covered his body. He could no longer see the skin that adorned his body.
Truly a way to make him new.
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He did not even know how long he was here.
Where?
That was unknown. The days began to blur together, and Durza continued to torture him, and the only way he knew this man's name was because he told him on a daily basis.
The door creaked open and those malicious eyes fixed on him. Durza matched forward, slowly, and had his bag in hand.
"The King grows impatient your lack of prorgress. His enemies are on the move, and he desires to have you serve him as soon as you can. So, in order to make you new, I have divulged a new method of torture.
He flinched in anticipation at the man's cruel voice, but was still in his chains.
"One of the soldiers under my care here came with a new cut on his face. I was… curious as to where he had obtained it from, and what he had been doing to gather such a cut. He told us he got it from shaving… How curious, is it not? I obtained one of these blades, wondering as to its uses. Care to find out?"
A shining metal glinted in his eyes.
"You are growing too much hair, it seems. You need it cut... and more. If we are to make you into someone new, you must become new in all manners of ways. All of them…"
Durza stepped closer to Eragon, roughly grabbing the young rider's face and bringing the blade down over his skin. The Rider screamed in pain. It was brought down even harder, leaving a patch of his face skinless, and dripping with blood.
He was being skinned alive by Durza.
Memories flashed to him of some furred creature, and he indulged himself in it, eager to think of anything else but the pain.
"Don't be upset, young rider… We are giving you a new identity. At least… enjoy it."
Again the blade came down his face and another long strip of his skin fell to the ground. His chest was covered in blood, with it now running down his face and onto his body. The blade moved up to his forehead. The tortured boy let a blood-curdling scream.
And his captor merely laughed.
"Pity you don't have more face for myself to erase. I need… to go further."
The small razor raked across his back, leaving a patch of skin the width of his stomach on the ground. A few more cuts, and more of his skin fell onto the ground.
"What do you want from me?!" He screamed himself hoarse as the Shade took a step back from Eragon, staring at the uncharacteristic yell of the boy. For almost as long as he had been here, he had never yelled as he had just then.
"Why, my boy… you know what I want. For you to swear allegiance to the King."
King? What King? Agreeing with him just felt… wrong, so surely this King was bad?
Right?
"All you need is to swear, Eragon… That isn't so hard is it? Aren't you tired of this," He gestured around to the room around them, and Eragon knew he was talking about the torture as well. "As soon as you swear fealty, the King will come, and this will stop."
Stop. Such a thing sounded so nice, and it made quite some sense to Eragon. But why did I feel… wrong, in his head.
As much as he wanted to give in, he couldn't. Not when every fiber of his being told him not to, but he had been here for so long. He didn't remember who he was, what he did, only his name, and the time he had spent here, in this Dungeon.
Durza waited a little bit, and then he walked back with the blade. Eragon, akin to a wounded animal, began to struggle and scream as Durza ran his blade along Eragon again, before he finally broke.
"I'll swear! I… I promise, I'll swear… please… just stop this…"
Durza withdrew his blade, and took a few steps back. He seemed quite pleased with himself, and made his way toward the door. He stopped right before it, and gestured for the soldiers in the room to leave.
"I will let the King know, my Young Rider."
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And so he waited.
And waited.
And dreamed.
Of a blue creature, one he sought to protect.
Of a young man.
Of mountains and trees.
Of fire.
And one day, his torturer came.
But didn't torture.
And with him.
Another man.
How strange.
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King Galbatorix had many expectations when it came to his new rider, and so far, Durza had delivered in full.
His new rider was going to be his sword against The Varden, his wild wolf to heel and attack as he saw fit, his dagger against those who saw fit to betray him, and he didn't need Eragon. He needed a Dragon Rider, one who would do his bidding and serve him in Alagaësia.
So when Durza, his ever faithful Shade, brought him to the young riders cell, only a mere three months after his capture, and Durza claimed he was ready. Ready to serve, and ready to swear fealty to Galbatorix. Of course, whether or not he swore fealty was of no consequence, as he would regardless find Eragon's true name and make him swear in the Ancient Language, but… all in due time.
He would train his rider thoroughly, and make him a weapon. His Midnight Rider, to strike through the night, and destroy his enemies.
He already had the boys dragon, and he had forced her to swear fealty under threats of killing the young rider, and she currently resided in Urû'bean, in the castle that his newly acquired rider would remain in. She had resisted for a while, but with evidence of her riders torture… she quickly swore fealty, and was now under his control.
The door to the riders cell opened, and Durza let him inside to were his future rider rested. Hung up by chains, the boy was… a mess, putting it lightly.
Barely beginning to heal wounds marked almost every inch of the boys body, and he barely lifted his face to see who entered, but said nothing.
Galbatorix stepped forward lightly, raising the boys head gently with his magic, and the boys eyes were blank. Brown, dull eyes gazed back at his near black ones, and his mind offered no resistance as Galbatorix gazed within.
Fueled by the power of his Eldunarí, he was quickly able to watch and judge near every part of the boys life, and was quite shocked when his true name appeared before him.
The Dreamer…
"You have exceeded expectations, Durza. If only you'd hadn't let that elf escape on her journey to Dras-Leona…"
The Shade was pleased at first, but turned bitter and angry at the end of the King's talk, but she had escaped, when he was here torturing the boy, on her way to Dras-Leona. His King had ordered her exodus to the far southern city, as to no encourage anyone to rescue her here, where the Dragon Rider was. But, she had escaped…
Thinking back to his rider, Galbatorix thought that his name was quite an oddly narrow true name, but he supposed the boy lived a dull life before this, and with a few quick spells, he erased whatever memories the boy used to have. Including his name.
The boy's dragon, Saphira, had been quite upset at this, but with Galbatorix holding all the cards, he made her swear not to tell the boy his actual name, only to use his new given one when she helped him do his bidding. With his new identity he had chosen a new name that his new dragon rider would use during his new time in the empire.
The boy continued to stare, his mind not realizing that Galbatorix had found his true name.
Galbatorix spoke it, and the boy shuddered, his body recognizing the words as himself.
"Repeat after me, boy."
And so the boy did.
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"You shall be named… Lord Tarkanth…"
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Urû'bean was a massive city, one that used to hold much grace and beauty, and now was the capital of the Empire. It was shrouded in black, and while it still flourished, it held a certain evil that anyone who entered could recognize.
Tarkanth, as apparently his name was, was impressed with the city. It was massive, and what muddled memories he did have made him feel impressed by its size.
Considering his previous home had been a small, poorly lit cell, anywhere but there was a massive improvement.
His King, Galbatorix as he had introduced himself, made it very clear that Tarkanth would never have to go there again, as long as he remained loyal to the Empire. He had no desire to not be loyal, and as long as he never saw that cell again, he'd be forever grateful.
Already he was, grateful that is, to his new Liege Lord. He, miraculously, had healed Tarkanth to nearly full health, as thought it was nothing, and had allowed Tarkanth to be freed from his prison.
And apparently, his King also had a gift.
During the journey from Gil'ead to Urû'bean, his King had explained his duties to him, what he would be doing, what his training would entail, and what his duties would be while he served Galbatorix.
He would be ready for them, but his King had training for him to undergo, to properly equip him with the knowledge he'd need to do his bidding, and Tarkanth was ready to begin. Itching to leave and begin his training, Tarkanth was glad to arrive in the capital, and then, his King's castle.
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a/n:
let me know what you guys think! plz fav and follow, as well as review!
i'm going to write for as long as i feel like it, as to not suffer to my unfortunately horrendous writer's block. hopefully, i will also try to write more for some of my other books as well.
thanks!
-x-kid 11