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Unchained Chapter-5
🕑 Added 2022-04-07 12:24:13 +0000 UTC‘Greetings Arya, it is good to see you free from the clutches of the Shade’s poison’, Saphira said to the elf, her young-yet-ancient mind reaching out to the elven woman’s conscious.
Arya raised her right hand towards Saphira’s snout, her eyes joyous and somber at the same time as she gazed upon the dragoness.
Saphira closed her eyes and leaned forwards, her warm snout touching Arya’s hands as she rumbled deep in her chest. A laugh came from the elf at the action, the sound more melodious and bewitching than anything Eragon had ever heard. He watched transfixed as Arya ran her hand over the bridge of Saphira’s nostrils and scratched her below her jaw, making the fearsome beast purr like a housecat!
“I never thought I’d actually see you out of that egg,” She softly whispered, laying her head against Saphira’s nose, “I carried you for over two decades…yet you never even gave so much as a wiggle in anyone’s arms.”
‘Because they weren’t worthy,’ Saphira snorted in return, a puff of smoke blowing in their faces as she huffed at the very thought of someone other than Eragon being her rider. ‘Eragon was my destined rider, the partner-of-my-heart-and-mind…and none of the ones who held my egg came close to him. When I hatched for him in Carvahall, I finally felt complete.’
Arya inclined her head in agreement, her emerald eyes turning towards the aforementioned rider. “That may very well be true,” she said, her eyes seemingly looking into his soul, “To jump into Durza’s castle, adn then rescue someone while being unharmed…I am in your debt Eragon. For saving and healing from that thing’s claws, I thank you once again.”
“I-Uh..thank you, my lady,” Eragon stammered before a mental snort from Saphira knocked him out of his trance. “Ahem, I would also like to thank you for telling us about the Varden’s location. If it hadn’t been or that, we would either be dead or in chains.”
Nodding at his gratitude, Arya gave one more glance at the hip pouch on her waist. “It has been nice meeting you Eragon, adn you too Saphira. But I must go to the dwarven blacksmiths if I want my sword back.”
“Can’t you just mend it with magic?” Eragon tilted his head before his eyes widened and he raised his palms, a scared expression on his face. “Not that it is of my concern, I was just asking!”
“It is not a problem,” she shook her head, fishing out the handle of her sword, “The energy required to repair this sword is too great, and currently it is out of my capabilities. Also, I don’t know if the crafters in my home ever put an enchantment on this sword, for this was a weapon made well before my own birth. Therefore, if my magic starts to get depleted in repairing or mending the possible magics upon this blade…I can go into a prolonged state of unconsciousness.”
“Going to the smiths sounds much better.” Eragon grimaced, looking down at his own swords, imagining the amount of energy that would go into repairing these if they ever broke. It wasn’t a pleasant thought.
“It does, doesn't it?” Arya smiled, putting the crossguard back into her satchel. She lowered her eyes for a moment, seemingly contemplating something before she looked up at him, her emerald irises meeting his own purple ones, sadness brimming within them. “I-I know Brom was your mentor, adn you lived in the same village for several years…I am sorry for his loss. He was a good man, and even elves will mourn his passing.”
“He was,” Eragon sighed, remembering all the times Brom had whacked him around with a stick, taught him magic and survival…and the way he had revealed his own past with his dying breath. Wrath surged through him at the thought of Brom’s Saphira, and the countless other bonds Galbatorix had broken in his mad pursuit of power. Families slaughtered, Dragons butchered, Elves and Riders hunted across the land…and all of it because Galbatorix couldn’t digest the fact that his own arrogance caused the death of his first and only dragon.
“Perhaps you would like to come to the forge with me?” Arya asked, her gaze turning towards the city, “I have some important matters to discuss with you, and we certainly don’t have the luxury of time for me to find you after my tasks.”
“Huh?” Eragon blinked, caught off guard by the fact that Arya wanted to talk to him, his sixteen-year-old mind seemingly grasping the fact that the prettiest woman he had ever seen wanted to talk to him. A mental shove from his dragoness brought his mind back to the conversation, and the expectant raise of the elf’s eyebrow. “Yes, I-We have work to do anyway. Only you can challenge me in a fight here, and fighting with humans will do me no good when I have to kill Kulls and Urgals.” Looking down at himself, Eragon frowned and tilted his head, “ I also have to see about getting armor for myself, those beasts can punch very hard.”
Arya laughed at that, a soft sound that seemed as soothing and beautiful to him as the chirping of birds over rushing water. “How did you even get out unscathed from the fight with Durza without an armor?” she asked, walking over to an old, withered tree and picking up a bow and a quiver, “Your sword skills are certainly impressive for a new rider, but there is no way that thing’s sword didn’t even nick you. And on the topic of sword skills…” her eyes narrowed a tad while her smile lost all of its warmth, “Can you explain to me why a human rider, likely a farmer based on your village’s location just fought with all the speed and strength of an elf.”
Not wanting to drop the fact that he was practically a Shade, especially after what Arya had suffered and endured at the hands of another—despite what Saphira may think, he had survival and social skills!—Eragon thought of a way to satisfy the elf’s curiosity, as well as prevent himself from getting beaten or alienated by someone who may very well be the only one not thinking of using them.
‘Mayhaps Eragon and I can tell you all about our journey from little one’s home until now after you have completed any work which requires your immediate attention.’ Saphira interjected, sending her amusement to him, ‘It is quite a long tale after all, and I don’t think you want to have such a talk in front of so many humans and dwarves.’
“That is indeed true,” Arya nodded at the suggestion, “Shall we go to the forges then?”
With that, she turned around and started to walk towards the city, and Eragon had just taken a step behind her when a thought came to his mind. “Arya,” he called out, making the eld pause and turn towards him, an inquisitive eyebrow raised, “Have you ever flown on a dragon before?”
At that moment, with that bright, hopeful look on her face and those shining, almost luminous green eyes looking out at him, with her raven hair framing her pale, beautiful features…Eragon knew his heart was lost.
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-nd then we decided to go to Gil’ead for your rescue,” Eragon said, taking a sip of the mead that had been left in his room, Arya sitting in front of him beside Saphira, his dragon allowing the elf to lay against her. “We snuck in quietly, I got you out of the cell after you saw me at the entrance, but then when we had gone in the keep’s armory to take your weapons…Durza found us.”
“What happened then?” Arya asked, her eyes flicking between him and the dragoness she was propped against, “Considering that you had the looks of a human and brown hair when I had seen you prior to forcing my body to shut down, something must have happened for your features to change this much.”
“Durza wanted a servant for the King,” Eragon slowly enunciated the words, his eyes looking past the walls in the direction of Gil’ead, as if somehow able to see the room where his whole life had been changed. “As the rider of the last female dragon, my life was invaluable, so I couldn’t be killed…but as long as I was alive, Durza was willing to turn me over in any way. When we were all nocked out in the armory, he captured us and brought us down to his own cellars. He tortured me, mind and body both…and he offered me power. ”
“Eragon…” Arya’s voice was low, the threatening tone of it plenty clear to him as she shifted slightly, her hand falling to the pommel of her sword. She wasn’t sure if she would be able to end the rider in case he actually betrayed their cause, the giant dragon just behind her easily capable of killing her in a single moment. But she was still ready for it, her magic burning to be flung around in a tempest of raw fury and wrath flowing through her veins ever since that day, when Faolin and Glenwig had been butchered.
“Do you know I had never been whipped before that day,” he said, his purple eyes still not meeting hers, “At Garrow’s farm and in the Palancar Valley, the most I suffered were gashes from sharp things, and an occasional snake or bug bite once a year. But th…that day I experienced a lashing from a whip being handled by a Shade, with Seithr oil being dripped on me.”
Not giving Arya a chance to say anything beyond the small gasp she let out, Eragon continued, finally looking into her eyes. “He invaded my head easily, after all, what hope a human rider, barely five and a half-month old had of stopping a Shade’s mental assault…and that too when it was more of a silent knife than a raging storm.”
“Your red hair,” Arya mumbled slowly, her eyes raking over every inch of his body, and Eragon just sat there with a sad smile, awaiting the explosion that was sure to come. And sure enough, the next moment, a newly repaired elven blade was pressed tip first right above is heart, an aura of dark green slightly shimmering around her as she snarled at him. Behind her, Sphira slowly rose from her position, her tail silently whipping back adn forth as Eragon forced her to be still and quiet.
“It is only the fact that your features aren’t completely that of a Shade, and you haven’t shown a single speck of madness and bloodthirst present in those abominations that is stopping me from driving my sword through your heart,” She hissed, a green haze starting to waft off her skin as her magic thrummed around her. “Tell me everything Rider, starting with how the fuck are you still in control of your mind, without a single spirit inhabiting your psyche?
Ignoring the fact that Arya seemed to know more about the crassness of humans than she let on, Eragon did as he was told. His eyes never strayed from her emerald ones as he recounted his tale from the dungeons of Gil’ead, once again omitting the Hearts-of-Hearts from his words. His slaughter of the soldiers stationed there, their subsequent escape into the Hadarac, and the continuous running in the Beors to avoid the armies knocking at their gates.
“I have heard first-hand tales of draconic magic…” Arya whispered as she looked back at Saphira, “But to see the effects of it, your partner saved your life Eragon, and that of countless others. For that skulblaka, you have my eternal gratitude.” She turned and bowed her head in front of the azure dragon, sheathing her sword back as she did so.
‘There is no need to thank me Arya, He is my little one,’ Saphira gently said in her mind, ‘No spirit or anything is going to inhabit him as long as I draw breath.’
“And I apologize to you Eragon,” she said next, her emerald eyes meeting his, “for raising my blade to kill you without knowing the full information.”
“It is not a problem. You were acting based on the things that were in front of you,” he shrugged, “No one can fault you for wanting to strike me down when you thought I am a Shade. Although will the elves reject me because of this?” Eragon asked next, nervousness and fear clear as day in his voice.
And it was true. While Obara and the other dragons could teach him a lot about Riders and fights from the memories they had of their riders…magic and martial skill were something he could hone only with regular practice against someone better than him, or t least as good as him. With the Varden, it wasn’t simply possible, his magical might exceeding their best spellcasters’ by magnitudes, and even on his worst day now, he would be faster and stronger than a regular human.
“Many will,” Arya answered back without hesitation, the blunt honesty making him wince before she continued, “However, you are the last hope of the alliance against the Empire, considering that the green egg is now sure to be hidden and protected more than Galbatorix’s own heart. And in the end, it won’t matter what the elves and the Lords think…the treaty between the Varden and us said that the rider was going to be trained by us, and Queen Islanzadi isn’t one to back out on her words.”
“She has never had to deal with a human rider who caused the death of an older rider, is friends with the son of Morzan, and for all intents and purposes is a Shade.” Eragon retorted, raising his fingers in time with his points, a small frown on his face.
“Trust me,” Arya quietly said, “If there is one thing I am sure of in all of Alagaësia, it is that Queen Islanzadi never breaks her word.”
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“Eragon!” Orik cried out as he ran towards him, coming to a stop with surprise on his face as he saw Arya beside him, “Huh? And I was just bemoaning that after this I would have had to find you, Arya. Nice of you to stay with him I suppose.”
“Hmm,” Arya responded, nodding with a small smile before it evaporated from her face, “I presume Hrothgar wishes to meet with Eragon?”
“He does,” the dwarf nodded, running his hand through his beard, “and after that, he wants to meet with you. Ajihad will also be there since both of them want to reopen communications with Du Weldenwarden, and you must know of a way to bypass the protections Queen Islanzadi has set up.”
‘Ask for the elf to be present during your talk with the Dwarf King’
Blinking at the sudden words from Jormun, Eragon nonetheless did as his teacher commanded, seeing the merit in that line.
“Uh, Hrothgar asked for a meeting with you Eragon,” Orik said a little uncomfortably as Arya looked at him with surprise at his demand, “I don’t know if the King would agree.”
“A monarch is meeting with me, the ruler of a whole race,” he said back, “I think it is only fair that the representative of the other race is present at such a meeting. Plus, out of everyone inside this Mountain, I only know Murtagh and Arya the best. You won’t release my brother from his cell, so at least let me have this.”
“You have met her for only about half a day.” came the dry response as Orik rolled his eyes.
“And that is half a day more than anyone else other than Murtagh adn Saphira.”
“Can’t argue with that,” Orik nodded, his eyes squinting at Eragon, “Well, if Arya is fine with it…”
“I am,” Arya said, a little bewildered by the sudden demand from Eragon, but not seeing a reason to refuse, she acquiesced. “Lead the way Orik, and I assume Saphira is flying down to us right now?”
“She is,” Eragon said as he looked rightwards in the direction of the Star Sapphire, “She is quite interested to meet King Hrothgar. Apparently, she wants to know every entry and exit point of this mountain so that she can go out and hunt herself.”
“The meat here not to her liking?”
“It is not that,” he shook his head, “When we were coming here, I made a passing comment about how we didn’t need the giant animals of the mountains attacking us. Saphira took that as a slight on her ‘Dragon pride’, and now she wants to hunt such a large animal down and throw it on my face.”
“Dragons have always been the most prideful beings,” Arya nodded, “In Ellesmera, we were once told about how Umaroth, Vrael’s dragon threw him off a mountain because the rider commented about his flying skills.”
“Let’s hope my tongue never slips like that.”
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Once they came upon the entrance to the throne room, Orik ran forward and talked with the guards for a few moments, before one of the axe-carrying dwarf ran inside. After a few moments, he came outside and nodded once at Orik before taking his place once again.
“What was that?” Eragon asked his guide as he looked between him and the guards.
“This meeting between you and Hrothgar was supposed to be private, as an act of faith,” Orik explained, making Eragon wince at what his own demand must have implied.
That he didn’t trust the Dwarf king.
Ignoring the purple-eyed rider, Orik continued, “However, he has agreed to your demand of the Ambassador being present. But,” he paused for a moment, looking meaningfully at the said Ambassador, “You aren’t to speak or contact Eragon with your mind at any moment inside that room, until Hrothgar gives you the leave to do so.”
“And he shall give me the leave only when he has completed his talks with Eragon.”
Orik didn’t have anything to say to that, the dwarf instead motioning to the entrance as he moved to stand beside the guards. “As soon as Saphira comes, you three can go down there.”
As if waiting for those words, a roar came from right above them, startling everyone but the elf and the rider—and if they chuckled a little at the dwarves' inability to perceive the mental plane, well no one noticed.
Saphira dropped down on the gleaming stone, her paws barely making a sound as she walked forwards and pressed her snout into Eragon’s chest. “Ready?” he asked, welcoming the warm embrace of her mind as she rumbled in her chest, warm puffs of air hitting his face.
‘I am, she whispered, twisting her neck around to look at the rocky entrance to the throne room, ‘Let’s see what the little-two-legged-king wants’
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“When he had met the twins earlier in the day, they had painted the Rider as an unstable, impetuous child who was drunk off his meager power and abysmal skills. Considering most of that time was spent by the little shits complaining about not being able to enter his mind and test him to guarantee their safety…Hrothgar had mostly polished his hammer while listening to their drivel from one year and pushing it out of the other.
And meager power? By Gûntera, how stupid did those simpering, slimy cunts think he was? He had listened to the first-hand accounts of how the RIder had annihilated dozens of Urgals and Kulls in a blaze of purple fire. According to some, the lake had been reduced to half its volume for a few minutes, the sheer heat and size of his magical flames boiling the ice-cold water of Kóstha-mérna.
Ajihad had sent him a runner earlier this morning, a letter detailing how his meeting with Eragon went, and of course, the son of the Forsworn currently residing in the Varden prisons. While Ajihad hadn’t said anything…explicitly, he had conveyed his opinion of Eragon perfectly to him. According to the dark-skinned man, Eragon was a nice enough something, his physical features too different from that of a human, and not reaching those of an elf either.
‘His dark brown hair is streaked with crimson, and his eyes are purple, almost luminous. He is skilled, powerful, knows his self-worth, and displays confidence. He also recognizes that we need him more than he needs us, because we sure as fuck cannot fly away from the battle that is about to come. I told him to remove Zar’roc from his person…but he refused, his voice not even hesitating or wavering.’
‘The boy reminds me of Brom, only a little more impatient, a little quicker to anger and lot more powerful than the old man ever was.’
And then, of course, Orik's own words about the Rider when he called his nephew this morning, seeking information about the Rider from a dwarf’s point of view.
“He is not a mature, wise adult…but he is not a child either, so don’t treat him like one. When the twins decided to enter his mind, he was against the idea entirely, but when they suggested that the same was going to be done to Saphira, his azure dragon….Eragon went almost mad with rage. I felt as if I was standing in front of a giant maw hungry to devour me. His anger was so palpable in the air an everyone there backed up a step Uncle. And he broke Arya’s sword into pieces, after equalling her blow for blow in a fight. Somehow this human rider is already as fast adn strong as an elf, and his martial prowess is leagues above anyone other than Arya in this mountain.”
“On the non-violent side of things, he is a good man. Isn’t an entitled, barmy shit who thinks he is too good for the world. By Gûntera, he even wanted to pay for his purchases earlier, can you imagine?! Another rider, hells even I would have probably demanded things for free if I had been the last hope of an otherwise doomed rebellion! Someone else probably wouldn’t have come to the Varden in the first place, knowing the pleasures and riches that would await them in Galbatorix’s service instead.”
His thoughts were derailed by the clicking of something strong adn pointed on stone…something like claws from a dragon. Eyes snapping up to the entrance of the throne room, Hrothgar watched without blinking as his guests of the afternoon entered. Eragon was the first to come in his vision, followed by Ambassador Arya, and then the blue dragon who had hatched for the human.
His eyes took in the appearance of the rider, the red hair, and the purple eyes—almost luminous, Ajihad hadn’t been exaggerating. He was tall, eight to nine heads of what looked lithe but muscled, and ridiculously strong body. Covered by a loose-fitting tunic as he was, Hrothgar could still see the tightness of his muscles, like a snake ready to implode into movement at the slightest danger. His swords, Zar’roc and the unknown purple blade hung from his hips, the sheaths gleaming dimly in the torchlight of the cavern.
And behind came the talk of Tronjheim. The last dragon in existence besides the Black Sun, one whose egg the Varden had stolen from Galbatorix decades ago. Saphira, she had named by Eragon, and Hrothgar nodded ti himself at the appropriateness. Her scales shone brightly, even the msllest of them appearing to shimmer and waver, the different reflective angles giving an ethereal sheen, each scale appearing to be yet another, different shade of blue than the last. Spikes the size of daggers ran down her spine, and her claws were as long as swords, adn feintiely sharper than them. From where he was, he could ssee her muscles mving beneath the gemlike coat, and he could only imagine the destructive potential in her strikes.
However, it wasn’t her various sharp body parts, or even that long, powerful body which was longer than dozens of heads put together that made him sit straighter.
It was the intelligence on thse blue, sapphire like eyes, the slit orbs staring aa him unblikingly. It was at that moment that Hrothgar finally realised why Dragons were feared mightily by the Dwarves.
And it was just his luck that her rider had to a be a headstrong, powerful man in his own right too.
