I do not own any part of the Harry Potter or Eragon universes.
This was the most difficult chapter to write as of yet. I had to rewrite this three times I'm still not happy with it. I still hope you like it!
Magic, The Most Beautiful Thing in the World
Harry looked out the window and saw the moon twinkle down on them in the late night. He clipped his pouch of runes and Sirius knife to his belt.
He would miss the time in Teirm. It had been a nice change, no longer having to sleep beneath the open sky and live in constant fear for one's life.
Harry grabbed his black robes and slung them over his shoulders and left his room.
He went outside and waited for the others. Eragon was the first to approach him with bow and quiver.
"Nervous?" Harry asked.
Eragon nodded and tightened the strap on his quiver.
"A little," he admitted.
It wasn't long before Brom and Jeod joined them. Brom carried a sword at his side and a long staff, while Jeod wore a black vest.
An elegant rapier hung at his side.
They went out into the street and used the darkness to get around unnoticed.
The Group walked along the city walls until they encountered a squad of patrolling soldiers approaching. They spotted the soldiers in advance and quickly veered into a side street, taking cover and waiting for the troop to pass by.
Jeod slowly raised his hand and waved them forward. "Come on! They have moved on," he whispered, urging them forward.
They had almost managed to get to the castle unseen, where the shipping records were being held, when a drunk man appeared from behind a house with an empty mug of mead.
"Let me take care of him," Harry said, nodding for the others to go ahead.
He moved towards the man and threw his arm around his shoulders. The man was swaying quite a bit and was obviously drunk.
"A wonderful night, isn't it?" Harry said happily, leading the man back in the direction the drunk had originally come from.
Brom, Eragon and Jeod, walked past the man towards the castle, unnoticed.
The man jumped in shock when he saw Harry appear next to him.
He blinked in astonishment. "The nigh' was good, ye'."
Harry gestured toward the empty mug and feigned surprise. "There's nothing left in there!"
The man held the mug down and his eyes widened in shock. He said in amazement, " Ye' are righ', lad! An' the night is still long."
Harry nodded and handed the man two crowns, which he tossed into his empty mug.
"Take this, my friend. I have a feeling you deserve it."
The man blinked in confusion, but as he shook his mug and heard the coins jingle, a wide grin spread across his face, directed at Harry.
"Ye' are a great lad, my friend. Do ye' wan' ter come with me? I could introduce yeh ter a few woman tha' I jus left."
Harry shook his head. "I can't, my wife and children are waiting for me at home. Please do me a favor and drink one for me, would you do that?"
"Ah, always the wife, taking the fun out o' everything," he mumbled disappointed. "I promise ye', I will even drink two fer ye', my friend!"
The man broke away from Harry and entered the nearest tavern.
"I'm back, yeh drunken bastards an' I've got money with me again!" Laughter erupted from the men inside the tavern, their jovial voices filling the air, as the drunk closed the door behind him.
Harry shook his head and joined the others who were waiting for him.
"No one's there, we should try now," Jeod whispered and Brom nodded.
Brom looked to Eragon. "Do you recall your role?"
"Yes," Eragon replied, nodding in affirmation.
With Brom's nod of approval, Jeod advanced toward the fort, and the others trailed after him.
He pounded his fist forcefully against the gate, the sound reverberating loudly. When there was no response, he repeated the action once more.
"What do you want?" an irritated voice questioned from behind a narrow speaking grille that had been lifted.
His breath stank of mead.
"We have to go in," Jeod answered.
The guard's-tired eyes blinked. "Why?"
"The boy forgot something important here on my desk. We just want to get it for a moment."
Eragon hung his head in embarrassment.
"We would offer you that as an apology," Brom whispered, holding a bottle of rum up to the moonlight.
The guard's eyes leapt to the bottle, and he licked his lips greedily.
"All right, you can come in. But give the lad a good spanking from me."
Jeod gave the guard a smile. "I will."
The man let them in through a narrow door set into the gate. Brom handed the man the bottle, which he eagerly took, and the man promptly walked away.
They hurried across the courtyard, careful not to be seen by other soldiers. Arriving in front of the scriptures archive, Jeod tried to open the door, but it was firmly locked.
"Let me," Harry said, taking the knife from his hip.
He put the blade to the keyhole and pulled it up to the handle. The lock dislodged with a clatter, and the door opened with a soft creak.
"Very good," Brom whispered and pushed open the door.
Jeod and Eragon followed him, but before Harry entered, he heard footsteps. He quickly closed the door behind him and leaned it ajar so that he could see through a small gap.
Two figures emerged into the moonlight, granting Harry a clearer view of them. Among them was the girl he had collided with the previous day and accompanying her was another man. The man was dressed in black, had long dark brown hair and a handsome face.
"Are you sure you want to do this, Murtagh?" the girl inquired, adjusting his collar. Her voice hovered just above a whisper.
Murtagh shut his eyes momentarily. "Yes, I am. I can't endure another moment with this monster. You should join me, Mary." Mary shook her head and a single strand of hair fell out of her hair.
"I can't... My family is with him. He would kill them, and I can't let that happen, you know that," she said pleadingly.
Murtagh tenderly cupped her cheek, gently brushing a loose strand of hair away from her face.
"I'm going to miss you, Mary," he said and gently praised himself away from her. With a final, lingering gaze, he turned away, battling the inner turmoil that threatened to consume him as he walked away, each step carrying him further from her.
Mary's gaze remained fixed on his retreating form. "Not as much as I do you," she whispered softly.
Unable to contain her emotions any longer, she released a choked sob, the sound echoing the profound sadness that engulfed her. With a heavy heart, she turned away, her shoulders trembling as she tried to cope with the overwhelming tide of emotions that threatened to consume her.
For a fleeting moment, a flicker of uncertainty seemed to pass over Murtagh, a silent battle playing out in his eyes. However, he steeled himself, his resolve evident as he squared his shoulders and, with a final, lingering look, vanished into the enveloping darkness.
Ensuring they were safely out of earshot, Harry softly closed the door behind him, careful not to make any noise that might betray their presence. He turned around and saw that the others were already busy working.
Dozens of scrolls were laid out on a wide table in front of them.
"Where have you been?" Brom hissed tensely. "We must not waste any time!"
Harry picked up a scroll from the table and replied, "Someone was coming, and I wanted to make sure we weren't spotted. So, I had to wait to close the door."
Brom's eyes widened in concern for a moment.
"They didn't hear us?"
Harry's head shook slowly. "No... They seemed preoccupied and left in haste," he replied.
Brom's already tense posture relaxed. His gaze briefly flicked towards the door before he refocused his attention on his task at hand.
"Have you found anything yet?" Harry asked.
"No, nothing yet... But- Wait here!" Eragon said with delight, pointing to a squiggly sentence on the page.
"Here's a shipment from Narda to Gil'ead... 3 years ago."
Jeod looked up from the scrolls that had gathered around him. "Excellent, write down any records you find about Seithr Oil," he instructed.
Harry nodded in agreement and then set about choosing a handful of scrolls. With determination, he delved into their contents, searching for the desired information.
Time flew by, and they finally lightened the workload by just looking for the scrolls containing ship names coming down from the north. Since the oil from the petals of the Seithr plant only comes from a small island in the northern sea, they were able to narrow down their search.
Abruptly, a tingling sensation enveloped Harry's right hand. He lifted his head, prompting him to blink in surprise. Positioned atop the wall was a small window, and within it reclined a black cat.
Undoubtedly it was Solembum, and Harry was confident in that verdict, especially when he saw the look of recognition on Eragon's face. Suddenly, Eragon's eyes widened.
"We must go, soldiers are looking for us," Eragon said hastily.
"How do you know?" Brom demanded in a sharp voice.
Eragon hesitated for a moment and Harry came to his aid. He could guess what the werecat had told Eragon.
"It doesn't matter how he knows, or do you not trust him?"
Brom's eyes flickered with a dangerous intensity, and he muttered something beneath his breath, concealed within his beard. "Yes, I do... Nevertheless, we have to finish this task."
Their pace then quickened, causing them to skim through the scrolls so rapidly that entire entries were being glossed over. While Jeod and Brom read the final entries, Harry and Eragon set about putting the scrolls back in their place.
Eragon was putting the last parchment on the shelf as Jeod stuffed the copied entries into his pocket.
They rushed outside and Brom quietly said words in the ancient language. As they detected the sound of voices approaching, the lock mended itself and firmly sealed the door.
The next moment two soldiers appeared around the corner.
"Get away from the door!" shouted one of the men.
"Sorry," Jeod apologized. "We got lost in the dark. We were just about to leave."
The soldier nodded towards his partner.
"Check if everything is alright."
The soldier walked towards the door and pulled the handle, but the door stayed locked.
"It's locked, sir."
The soldier in front of them scratched his chin.
"Well, I don't know how a group of four men can get lost like that, but since the door is locked you can go. Hurry."
Harry laughed inwardly as the soldiers helped them escape.
"We actually did it!" Burst it out of Eragon and jumped in the air.
"We did. Now we just have to see if the trouble was worth it," Brom said, making room on the table in Jeod's library, who then spread out a map of Alagaёsia.
Harry's eyes narrowed as he focused on Urû'baen, situated at the center of the map, the very place from which King Galbatorix exerted his dominion over the kingdom.
"The Ra'zac must be hiding near Urû'baen," Eragon said with dark realization.
Brom scratched his head thoughtfully. "Let's hope they aren't, otherwise, you can't even venture near it. If there's a single place we must avoid, it's Urû'baen," he cautioned.
Jeod pulled out the parchment with the entries they found.
"The Seithr Oil has been shipped to every major city in the last 5 years. That means Aroughs and Feinster in the south, Belatona, Kuasta and Teirm in the west, Gil'ead and Ceunon in the north and finally Urû'baen and Dras-Leona in the center," Jeod listed with a frown.
Brom smoothed the card out with his hands. "I think we can rule out a few cities. The Ra'zac are the king's errand boys. If they're going to get anywhere in Alagaёsia quickly, they need to be in a location that allows them to be in many places at once."
Harry furrowed his brows.
"So, the cities in the north and south would be gone."
Brom agreed. "I think we can rule out the cities to the west, beyond the mountains, as well. There are few paths that would give them access there, making travel difficult for the Ra'zac. Ceunon is too far in the north, but they could be hidden at Gil'ead."
"So, from the west remains Belatona and in the north Gil'ead. What about the southern cities?" Harry asked.
"Aroughs and Feinster are just as remote as Ceunon is to the north. Belatona would be an option," Jeod suggested.
"And Urû'baen?" Eragon asked. "It's right in the center of the map. You could go anywhere from there."
"It may be so, but I doubt the king would want to keep the Ra'zac that close," Brom argued.
Harry leaned against the chair. "Which means, it's either Belatona, Gil'ead or Dras-Leona. Although we can't really rule out Urû'baen either," he concluded.
Eragon looked at the entries. "Belatona has only received a single shipment in the recent years. Not much activity," he noted.
Brom closed his eyes, lost in contemplation. "Dras-Leona is also nearby. The city is larger and more conveniently located than Belatona. How often did they get it?"
Eragon quickly checked. "Earlier this year three shipments arrived within a few weeks. All through the same retailer."
"And Gil'ead?"
"Only two shipments in the last year," Jeod said as he peered over Eragon's shoulder.
Suddenly, Jeod smacked his temple as if remembering something.
"And we forgot about something else. The Helgrind."
Brom's gaze darkened with intensity. "Of course. This is the perfect place for the Ra'zac to hide."
Harry looked up from the map. "What is the Helgrind?"
"It is a four-pointed mountain near the city of Dras-Leona. In the ancient language it is also known as the Gates of Death. It makes sense for them to be there," Brom explained.
"Finally, we have found them." Eragon's eyes gleamed.
He looked determinedly at the map to where Dras-Leona was. They had finally found the whereabouts of his uncle's killers. It was only a matter of time before their torsos were filled with his arrows.
Brom said goodbye to Jeod while Eragon packed the saddlebags.
"I wish I could go with you, but my place is here, with Helen. And I've grown old, something you haven't experienced."
Brom smirked but nodded understandingly.
"Nevertheless, it was good to see you again, Jeod," Brom said and the two shared a brotherly hug.
"I wish you all the luck that Alagaёsia can offer you," Jeod said thickly.
Harry and Eragon both thanked him for his help and together they led the horses out into the streets at their side.
They were walking off the main street when they heard voices getting louder and louder. Curious, Harry walked down one of the side streets until he met a huge crowd.
"It's Lord Morzan! He has not been in Teirm for years and now he has arrived! Look!" exclaimed an old woman in joy.
Harry scanned the crowd, spotting a tall, well-built man astride a horse. Several of his companions trailed behind him. The man possessed a mane of black hair and emitted an unmistakable air of authority. Seated erectly on his horse, his countenance appeared stern. A prominent, unsightly scar marred his face, stretching from his eye across his visage.
The man's gaze swept across the gathering, until it settled on Harry amidst the multitude. For a brief interval, their eyes locked in a silent exchange. One eye was a piercing blue, while the other remained an intense shade of black.
Harry held the gaze without flinching, refusing to avert his eyes. Morzan's scrutiny seemed to intensify, his narrowed eyes hinting at a deeper contemplation. After a moment, Morzan shifted his attention elsewhere, and as the tension released, Harry let out a slow, steadying breath.
He turned his back on the crowd and was looking forward to putting miles between himself and Morzan. He didn't want Artemis to be near a person like him, but then it happened.
A soldier sprinted towards Morzan, bowing deeply in deference. Morzan raised his hand, signaling his followers to halt behind him.
Whatever the soldier told Morzan couldn't mean anything good. Even from a distance, Harry could see how angry he was getting. His hands knotted into tight fists, and his visage contorted with anger.
Dismounting from his horse, Morzan advanced toward the waiting maids.
"Step forward, girl." Morzan's voice resonated with a deep, chilling tone, carrying an unsettling undercurrent of ruthlessness.
A blonde-haired girl stepped hesitantly forward, her hands trembling. It was Mary. With trepidation, she lowered herself into a kneeling position before Morzan.
"Where is he?" Morzan hissed.
Mary's throat constricted, and she swallowed hard, her tongue darting nervously over her lips.
"He's gone," she confessed, her voice carrying a surprising strength that belied her fear.
"Gone?"
Morzan's right hand lashed out, delivering a forceful blow to her. Mary's cry of pain filled the air as she crumpled to the ground, clutching her cheek in agony. She held her cheek in pain and looked around for help, but no one came to her aid.
"Your sole task was to keep an eye on my son! Nothing more! Let me ask you one final time, girl. Where is my son, Murtagh?" Morzan's voice seethed with anger and impatience.
Like a serpent, he extended his hand and yanked the girl upright by her hair. Mary's cry of agony pierced the air, her eyes brimming with terror, yet a glimmer of something resilient sparkled deep within them.
"Murtagh is long gone, my lord. You will never lay eyes on him again," she rasped through the haze of pain.
The onlookers grew uneasy witnessing the scene, and they hastily dispersed in fear.
Morzan flung her against the ground, then lowered himself beside her prone form.
Morzan's visage drew near to hers, and in the sunlight, his eyes gleamed with malice.
Tears pooled in Mary's eyes as she gazed up at him.
"Is this your final choice, girl?" he inquired in a soft tone.
Mary drew a trembling breath.
"Yes," she cried, her tears streaking down her cheeks.
Morzan let out a disappointed sigh, extending his right arm and encircling her neck with a vise-like grip.
Mary strained to free herself, using both hands in a futile attempt to loosen Morzan's hold, but his strength was insurmountable.
His fingers constricted, and her breath hitched in her throat.
A cloud slid in front of the sun, casting a shadow over the street.
"You're not even worthy of staining my blade with your wretched blood," Morzan growled.
She heard his final utterance, a whisper brimming with potent power, and her world dissolved into blackness. Mary's lifeless form slumped to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been severed.
Harry's heart raced within his chest, the thudding sound reverberating in his ears. His wide eyes remained fixed on the unfolding scene before him.
He couldn't stand idly by and let it happen.
Just as he was about to take a step forward, a hand closed around his collar, yanking him forcefully to the side. Before he could react, he found himself pressed against the wall behind a nearby house. The firm grip belonged to Brom.
"What in blazes do you think you're doing?" Brom snarled, his voice dripping with anger. Eragon stood beside them, his eyes wide with shock as he observed the unfolding scene.
"We can't just stand by!" Harry retorted, forcefully pushing Brom's hands off his collar.
Brom let out a scoff. "Really? And how do you intend to do that? You don't have a weapon, you can't even wield your magic properly, and yet you're planning to confront the Right Hand of the king right here in the heart of the city?"
Harry was shocked as he witnessed Brom slowly remove the glove from his hand, revealing a mark identical to the one on Harry's own palm—the unmistakable Mark of a dragon rider.
"You're a dragon rider?" Eragon gasped in disbelief.
Brom's eyes tightened in anguish. "I was, once. But not anymore. She perished in battle."
"The point is, countless people have attempted to exact revenge on Morzan, and each one has met their demise. I should know, for I have failed to bring him down as well. And now you believe you're the chosen one, the hero destined to bring him down?" Brom's voice dripped with a mixture of sternness and exasperation.
Every word struck Harry like a blow, making him flinch with each verbal strike. He shook his head vehemently. "No, I don't believe that."
Brom's expression softened, his stern gaze relenting slightly. "Well, you're not completely daft then. You would be seriously outmatched in a sword fight, and your magic isn't even a viable option, yet."
Harry's eyes shifted to the lifeless body on the main street, a tragic testament to the cruelty of the world.
"This is what we're up against, what we're fighting against!"
Something surged within Harry, a tempest of emotions and determination. It was as if a storm had erupted in his soul. He had come to a decision, and he was resolute.
He wouldn't stand for the atrocities perpetuated by the ruling class. He wouldn't become just another soldier.
He was different, a wizard and a dragon rider. His name was Harry Potter, and his partner was Artemis.
Together, they would root out the evil that plagued Alagaёsia.
In that moment, after months of uncertainty, he felt the comforting warmth of his wand in his hand once more.
"Come on you two, we should hurry up," Brom said.
As they walked through Teirm, the atmosphere was tense. As they approached the gate, they saw fewer and fewer people, and those coming toward them had pale faces and refused eye contact.
Harry wished Artemis were with him. He needed to speak to someone.
As they rounded the final bend in their path, two figures came into view, blocking their way.
It was Morzan. He gave them a sneer as they came into view. His scar contorted in a disgusting way.
Next to him, a few feet away, was an old man with a hunched back. It was the books owner Harry had met before. His name was Svikari if he remembered correctly.
With a trembling hand, he extended his finger, pointing directly at Harry. "That's him, my Lord! I saw them earlier near my bookstore, and that one was purchasing books from my shop!"
Morzan nodded and reached into his coat. A small bag of crowns landed in the seller's shriveled hands.
"Now get out of here or you'll see your ancestors sooner than you'd like," Morzan said in a menacing voice. Both of his eyes were firmly set on Brom.
Svikari nodded fearfully. "Of course, my lord. I am deeply in your service, my lord."
He vanished into the shadows cast by the surrounding houses with a speed that belied his old age.
Brom's eyes blazed with anger, and for a moment, Harry feared he was about to rush in and attack Morzan. However, Brom's attention suddenly shifted sideways to Eragon, and Harry noticed him taking a deep breath. The tension in Brom's shoulders remained, but the anger gradually ebbed from his eyes.
He nodded toward Harry and Eragon, his voice urgent. "Head through one of the side streets. Teirm was designed with roads that all lead to the gates for better defense. We'll meet outside the city. GO!" Brom's command was forceful.
Without any hesitation, Harry seized Ares' reins, and they charged through the streets. Eragon followed closely behind, a few yards away.
"Brom!" Eragon's shout went unanswered as Brom focused solely on his opponent. His gaze was locked onto Morzan, determination etched in his expression.
Eragon's sword caught the faint sunlight, casting a crimson beam straight into Morzan's eyes. The sudden glare caused Morzan's eyes to widen briefly.
"That sword belongs to me, boy! Do you truly believe you can escape me?" Morzan's furious voice echoed behind them as they fled. However, Brom dismounted from Snowfire, effectively cutting off their path.
Brom positioned himself firmly, blocking their way. "Your appearance has only grown more uglier since we last met, Morzan," Brom spat with a sneer.
Morzan's lips curled in a snarl, and he unsheathed his own sword. His left eye twitched involuntarily, revealing his inner turmoil.
"I will avenge what you've done to me," Morzan seethed, his voice heavy with rage. "Then I will hunt down the boy, and it will be I who ultimately prevails."
Brom's face contorted with fury, and his sword flashed out as he lunged at Morzan. In a desperate maneuver, Morzan managed to parry the strike just in the nick of time. The clash of their blades created a shower of sparks, as if a swarm of fireflies had suddenly come to life around them.
"Harry, damn it! We can't just leave Brom!" Eragon's voice carried a mix of urgency and frustration, but Harry remained resolute.
"Brom knows what he's doing! Trust him!" Harry's response was swift and loud. The city gates loomed ahead, and they had only a few roads left to reach them.
Eragon's mouth opened to protest further, but he abruptly halted as a lone soldier, equipped with only a shield, charged towards them.
"Halt! In the name of King Galbatorix, you are under arrest!" the soldier's voice echoed with authority.
Without hesitation, Eragon drew his sword and swung the pommel of Zar'roc against the soldier's temple. The impact was decisive, and the soldier crumpled to the ground like a sack of flour.
Their horses galloped towards the exit. The sound of alarm bells echoed through the air, mingling with the chaotic cries of soldiers.
"Faster!" Harry's command rang out, accompanied by a sharp kick to Ares' sides as they urged the horse to greater speed. The adrenaline surged through his veins as their path became increasingly precarious.
Abruptly, a dozen soldiers emerged from behind a nearby house, forming an encircling formation that blocked their path. Spears held aloft, they advanced with grim determination. Harry exchanged a nod with Eragon; there was no avoiding the confrontation. They dismounted swiftly, drawing their weapons – Eragon's Zar'roc glinting menacingly, while Harry raised his wand.
Time was of the essence; they couldn't afford to linger, lest more soldiers descend upon them. As they prepared to confront the encroaching threat, Harry's attention was momentarily diverted by a shadowy figure solidifying behind the soldiers. This man had blood-red hair and was clad in armor that appeared as though constructed from bone.
A sinister aura enveloped the figure, and his mouth moved, but the surrounding noise drowned out any words. Suddenly, an explosion rocked the scene, sending Harry hurtling sideways into a wall. Agonizing screams followed, and then eerie silence.
Struggling to his feet, Harry surveyed the aftermath. Just as it had happened in Yazuac, a crater now marked the spot where the soldiers had been positioned. Bodies lay strewn about the impact zone, blood forming macabre patterns on the street.
Harry closed his eyes for a moment, pushing aside the shock, and focused on the current danger. The man who had appeared behind the soldiers was leering at them with a malevolent grin, his expression twisted and vile.
"Rider," the man sneered, his voice dripping with malice, "Are you prepared to meet your end?"
"How did you manage to find me?" Brom inquired, his movements swift as he evaded another of Morzan's attacks.
Morzan's response was laced with an air of superiority. "Did you honestly believe the Ra'zac wouldn't recognize you in Carvahall? Predicting your chosen path wasn't a daunting task. I know you far too well."
Brom's tone dripped with sarcasm. "Oh, behold the mighty Morzan, capable of coherent thinking?" He shifted his position fluidly, narrowly deflecting Morzan's strike.
Seizing an opportune moment, Brom capitalized by delivering a forceful kick to Morzan's side, prompting a pained grunt from his adversary. "That scar of yours truly complements your visage. It once had potential for ugliness, but now you almost resemble an Urgal!" Brom taunted, his voice laced with contempt.
Morzan took a step back, his grip on his sword tightening as he directed its point toward Brom.
"You think you're going to escape from me? After everything you have done to me?" He growled out.
"After what I did to you?!" Brom repeated slowly. He stepped back and tore the glove from his hand, revealing the Gedwёy Ignasia.
"You took her from me! She was everything to me and you killed Saphira, you bastard!" His words, heavy with sorrow and wrath, were hurled at the figure who had once been his friend.
"You betrayed all of us in your blind devotion to a madman!" Brom's voice trembled with the weight of his emotions.
Morzan's response was chilling laughter. "You don't know… you don't know."
"What don't I know?" Brom panted, his breath coming in ragged bursts. But
Morzan's gaze shifted, eyes focused on the direction the two young boys had disappeared.
"You're too naive, Brom. You always were and always will be. You were never able to see the bigger picture. You have always focused on the small details. Something that will cost you everything."
Morzan tilted his head, planting his sword firmly into the ground. Brom's confusion deepened. "Have you lost your mind entirely?" he inquired incredulously.
A growl rumbled in Morzan's throat. "No, but you should be thankful you face me and not Durza."
Brom's eyes widened, aghast. "Durza is here?"
Morzan's grin turned sinister. "Yes. We knew you were travelling with two other people. Although Durza was rather… busy himself, it was easy to persuade him to come to Teirm with me."
"That is not possible. No one knew of our tracks," Brom muttered under his breath.
Morzan pursed his lips. "Even after all these years, you still underestimate the king's power. There really is no hope for you anymore… or for your little revolutionary group."
Brom narrowed his eyes at him. "What do you mean?"
Morzan laughed at him. "Please! Do you not think the king doesn't have spies among the Varden? You are attempting to conquer a power that you cannot even begin to understand!"
Brom snorted. "Everyone has a weakness, even the king. And we will find it or die trying to rid Alagaёsia of this disease."
Morzan shook his head. "If you still think you have a chance, you are sorely mistaken. But I digress…."
"The Ra'zac recognized you in that little village. The king presented them with many memories of every single dragon rider that could have survived the fall. They knew exactly what to look for."
Brom took the information in. If that was true, then they would have to go to the Varden at once, without further ado. Brom had wanted to keep the boys away from any politics, but fate left him no choice. They had to survive at all costs. They were their last hope.
From the corner of his eye, Brom spotted Snowfire racing toward him. A wry smile played on his lips – the horse was worth every coin he'd spent. Morzan saw it too late, when Brom sheathed his sword and run towards the horse.
If Durza was there, then he had to get to the boys as quickly as he could. Neither of them was ready to take on a shade.
His ring grew warm against his finger.
"No! You stupid beast, stop!" Morzan screamed in anger, he started speaking in the ancient language, but Brom was wide ahead of Morzan and had the foresight to put protective wards on Snowfire's saddle.
"Fetch me a horse, you fool, or I'll skin you alive!" Morzan screamed at the nearest soldier that had arrived.
The soldier feared for his life and quickly run off to find one.
Morzan looked after Brom, who disappeared behind the main street. He knew he wouldn't be able to catch up to him, but he would see Brom again and he vowed to kill him the next time they met. Slowly and painfully, so his lust for revenge could be satisfied after all these years.
"Kill us? You don't seem to know who you're dealing with," Eragon called out to him.
The man responded with a sly smile. "Oh, I think I know exactly who you are. But where are my manners? My name is Durza. I really wanted to meet you." His lips curled up into a grin.
His gaze shifted between the two of them. "Well, at least one of you."
Eragon's face turned ashen. Brom had informed him about Durza, the king's shade.
"Ah, it seems my reputation precedes me," Durza remarked with a nod, seemingly pleased.
"You know who we are?" Harry questioned.
Durza's gaze locked onto Harry's. A twisted smirk played on his lips.
"Why, yes. I do believe I have a fairly accurate understanding of who you are," Durza replied. "Traveling with Brom, the last of the dragon riders. Well, apart from Lord Morzan and the king, naturally."
"The surprise on your faces indicates that this isn't entirely news to you. How intriguing," Durza added, his smile taking on a sinister edge.
"The only remaining question I have is which of you is the dragon rider... Of course, I could eliminate you both, resolving the issue once and for all... Or I could attempt to exploit the rider and the dragon to overthrow the king... So many decisions," Durza whispered, his voice carrying clearly to their ears.
At least their knowledge about Artemis appeared to be lacking.
However, before Durza could take any further action, Eragon notched an arrow and cried out, "Brisingr!"
The arrow ignited with blue flames and sped toward the shade.
Durza regarded Eragon with intrigue. "Ah, so it's you."
Durza granted them a bright smile, and with a single utterance in the ancient language, the flames encasing the arrow froze and fell to the ground, shattering into countless fragments.
"A young magician! Splendid!"
"Now, let me demonstrate true power!" He turned his attention to Harry with a sneer. "My apologies, but you are of no further use to me. Only the rider matters now. Farewell, boy."
Durza twisted his hand, summoning a spear from the fallen soldiers' weapons.
With a swift gesture, the spear hurtled toward Harry.
The weapon lunged at him, and Harry swiftly raised his wand, aiming it at the incoming threat.
"Impedimenta!" Harry commanded, feeling the surge of familiar magic coursing through him, though stronger than he'd ever experienced.
Astonishment played across Durza's face as the spear halted in midair.
"How can this be?" Durza breathed.
His gaze flicked from the suspended spear to Eragon, then to Harry.
Could the rider command such magic? Or was it the other one?
Durza shook his head. Whatever it was, it changed everything. He would make sure that he would get hold of this knowledge.
"Eragon, be ready," Harry whispered.
"What's your plan?"
They observed as the shade raised his pallid hands, murmuring incantations in the ancient language. The utterances formed lengthy phrases, and the magic reverberated tangibly.
It felt tainted, malevolent.
"I hope you endure this," Durza taunted them.
"Vindr Istalrí!"
The air before them erupted, manifesting an ominous black fire.
Harry stepped forward, shielding Eragon. The flames surged toward them, the searing heat palpable on his skin.
Saturated with power, he harnessed his magic and channeled it, his only recourse. With all his might, he focused on his own magical potential and unleashed it.
He raised his wand in a swift, assertive motion.
"Bombarda Maxima!" Harry cried out.
His wand trembled in his grip, and the pent-up energy accumulated over the past few months was finally released.
A brilliant beam of white light emanated from his wand's tip, throbbing with power.
As it met the magical fire, there was a huge explosion and Harry folded his arms protectively in front of him. He only saw the spell hit Durza and blast the shade against the hundred-meter-high wall.
However, Harry had struggled to contain the spell's power. Unknowingly, he had unleashed an overwhelming surge of his magic.
In that moment, a fleeting memory of a woman with black hair and green eyes crossed Harry's mind. It was quickly overshadowed by the sight of Eragon and the horses vanishing behind a line of buildings. Then, a sudden force struck him, knocking him off his feet, and everything faded into darkness.
Vindr – wind, air
Istalrí, Brisingr - fire
A/N: So, after much complaining, I wanted to explain a few things about why Harry temporarily lost his magic. The idea behind it was to do something similar to what happened to Tonks in the 6th book. She was having problems with her magic and her Metamorphmagus abilities, and I wanted to go even more in that direction. Harry's stress and inner struggle was supposed to be his blockage to his magic, which was finally resolved in this chapter.
Looking back, I think I should have shown more of Harry's inner struggle of him again joining a battle.