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Brom's Last Words CHAPTER 69 Dwarves Eragon was concentrating too much on Roran to notice tfhat Saphira was moving back into the smoke, the harsh voices, the confusing, the clangs of metal upon metal, and the odd roar of Saphira, into of the Battle of the Burning Plains. It was strange that they had met in this way, both headed toward a desolate battlefield. From Roran's questioning, boring, harsh, relieved, enraged and even accusing stare, Eragon deduced that Roran had figured out his role in Garrow's unfortunate death. How Eragon wished he was there when the Ra'zac killed him. Eragon and Saphira might have been able to delay Garrow's death. All of a sudden, an Empire soldier's longsword bounced off his chestplate. Eragon was rescued from his confusing maelstrom of thoughts and dreams, but if only to cleave the soldiers helm in two with a hoarse shout and a downward slash from Zar'roc. “ Barzûlegûr” Orik swore, behind him and unable to rouse Eragon from his thoughts. “I am OK, Orik. No need for foul language.” Wait a minute… Saphira! Why didn't you warn me we were fighting again?I couldn't get past your emotion for Roran… It was like catching a greased slab of polished granite, which we all know is impossile. Eragon decided he would tell Trianna about the Dragon Wing now, while she was resting. He cast out his consciousness to include Trianna and thought to her, Trianna. Please tell Nasuada and the Varden not to attack the Dragon Wing. My brother is on board. If it is possible, also send someone to tell them what is happening. Wiol ono, Shur'tugal. From the lofty veiwpoint of Saphira's back, he saw the dwarves, and told Saphira to leave the brunt of the fighting and greet Hrothgar and his dwarves, or knurlan as Hrothgar called his race. Saphira, eager to see how the Dwarf King had fared, rushed to the army in a few steps, and let Eragon dismount. Eragon, now running, yelled to Hrothgar, “YOU'RE HERE!!!” Hrothgar, in reply, bowed down to Eragon and Saphira and said that the elves had changed him a lot. “No, Hrothgar, it was the dragons. The caretakers Iduna and Nëya have a dragon tattoo that came to life and…. And, well, changed me, I guess. The full story is so much longer, so maybe after the battle?” “Oeì” said Hrothgar, meaning affirmative, or yes. “Eragon, I see that you have accepted out offer to be Dûrgrimst Ingeitum. It is an honor to be kin with you.” “And the other way around!” Hrothgar laughed, then looked at Saphira and said, “I can't believe you will be able to mend Isidar Mithrim, Saphira. Some of my dwarves are putting it together, even now. I cannot say I don't look forward to seeing the dragonhold's floor whole again!” Saphira killed a soldier that was sneaking up on her, then responded. I promised to mend it, so I will, using Eragon as her mouth. Hrothgar looked at Eragon and Saphira's armor, and questioned, “Has our armor served you well?” “Aye, Hrothgar. It has saved us from much pain, even maybe death.”
CHAPTER 70 Winning Hrothgar lifted Volund, his legendary hammer, with a faint light glowing somewhere deep inside his eyes. “Well then, shall he test it once more in the chaos of war?” Turning to his men, he said, “Akh sartos oen dûrgrimst!” “ Vor Hrothgarz korda! Vor Hrothgarz korda! Vor Hrothgarz korda! Vor Hrothgarz korda! Eragon looked quizzically at Hrothgar and the dwarves, until Orik leaned in and translated in a whisper, “Hrothgar said, 'For family and for clan!' and the dwarves were chanting the words 'For Hrothgar's Hammer.'“ Joining in, Eragon ran with Orik toward the battlefield, his dragon by his side. At last, with the dwarfs, the tide turned in favor of the Varden. Crushing, splitting, dividing, and pushing Galbatorix's army, the Imperial Troops were forced to give up the positions that they had held since the beginning of the battle. Angelas various poisons were also taking their toll now, and the poisoned officers were commanding the army to ward off invisible enimies, taking force off the Varden. The soldiers were now realizing that luck had turned its back on them, for hundreds surrendered, committed suicide, fled, or attacked their former comrades. And the time flew by, now entering the late afternoon.
CHAPTER 71 A New Rider Eragon was busy defending himself from a group of ten soldiers that would not give up when a flaming javelin burst past and destroyed one of the Empires command tents. Drawing into the energy of the men, he killed them, and looked back at the Dragon Wing. Dozens of conflagrant missile were rolling out of the ships ballistae. What are you thinking, brother? wondered Eragon, before finding and killing an enemy magician. Soon after, a loud claxon came, echoing, from the back of the Empire troops, then more and more. Somebody began to beat out a rhythm on a drum made from enemy skin, and as everybody looked for the source of the sound, a shadow passed overhead, then dived down, barbed, before gliding away. At first Eragon thought it to be a Lethrblaka, the Ra'zacs parents. Then a gap in the smoke showed an image of glowing red scales. The image descended. Eragon gasped. Above them, floating on thermals, there was a sparkling red dragon. Its scales looked like red-hot coal. Its wings were the color of red wine, seen held before a lantern. On his back, a man garbed in polished steel, painted white to match the dragon’s teeth, claws, and spikes, sat. In both of their eyes, a gleam of horrible glee showed itself. Panic rushed through Eragon. Galbatorix managed to hatch another dragon! Oh no! Then the Rider raised his left hand, (the hand not holding his weapon of choice, a hand-and-a-half sword) and a shaft of fizzling, sizzling, multicolored lightning rolled out of his gedwëy ignasia and snared Hrothgar in the shoulder. The magic spread throughout the outside of his body, Hrothgar being protected by multiple spellcasters. Eragon knew that the magicians could not hold out for long, and sure enough, all of their energy was leeched away to no avail. Hrothgar's last words were addressed to Eragon. Don't let me die in vain. Win this battle and my spirit will watch over you forever. Just do it for m— The dwarves gave a great groan of despair as they watched the King and the mages die. “NOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Eragon yelled as Saphira roared in anger. They glared daggers at the enemy Rider. I'll kill you for that, even if it takes my life. Eragon knew that he and Saphira were too tired to fight this mighty newcomer. Eragon dismounted, and drew some energy from a dying horse and the Belt of Beloth the Wise, and an unprotected platoon of soldiers. It was enough energy. He felt almost as good as new. The red rider landed on a platoon of Varden soldiers, not feeling their armor, weapons, or hearing their howls as she crushed them flat by pure weight.
CHAPTER 72 The Humans Fight Almost immediately, the other Rider dismounted and rushed at Eragon, who was just as ready, and willing, for a fight. “They collided like two great masses of rock balanced on adjoining peaks and shaken loose by an earthquake, that bound down the mountainsides gathering speed, leaping over crevasses and knocking trees to splinters, until they crash into each other so hard that they both are smashed to powder and flying chips of stone: that was how the two Riders came together. The crash as they met deafened the soldiers on the plain. But they weren't destroyed, as rock would have been.”1 Dodging a vicious backhand slice, Eragon struck out with Zar'roc and almost scored a hit. The blade was an inch away from the other rider's bracer, but was flicked away by a last-minute twirl of the hand-and-a-half sword. The other rider retaliated with two words. “Thrysta vindr” said Eragon's adversery, and Eragon found himself sailing backwards, borne on by a brutal clump of wind. When he landed, he found himself being dragged forward by invisible hands around his ankles. Before long, he was deposited by the feet of the other Rider, who took this moment he could have spent killing Eragon to gloat. Eragon smirked. If this was the best the other Rider could do then this battle would be a piece of cake. Even Vanir could do that without difficulty. “So, Eragon Shadeslayer. Have you figured out you can never compete with me?” “HOW DO YOU KNOW MY NAME!!!” “Galbatorix told me. He also told me your true name, Du Sundavar Freohr. But I want this to be a fair fight. I won't use it unless I am in grave danger of being killed by you, which I doubt will happen.” “Oh (censored).” Eragon muttered. Silently he extended his mind to the magic, sending a ripple along the surface of the sorcery. The other Rider grimaced, as if he had felt the wave. This Eragon did not see. He was too busy forming the word, “Malthinae” to capture the Rider, but all it did was drain his energy. Eragon was astonished, until he realized that the other Rider must have blocked it by arcane means. The other Rider threw his shield at Eragon, bowling him over. As the other Rider moved in for the final strike, with much twirling and pirouetting, Eragon's memory took over, and he found himself, in a dream world, fighting Murtagh. Then the image faded and he saw himself by a brook murmuring Draumr kopa. The surface of the water went black, and Eragon saw himself seeing his past self, seeing his future self. How did I scry the future, Saphira. I don't understand! Even Angela and especially Gertrude have trouble with this, but I did it without any energy loss! I don't know, Eragon. It boggles me. The image of Murtagh gave Eragon enough energy to rip the other Rider's helm off. Eragon gasped. The other Rider bent down and pulled something sharp and small from his boot… A throwing-knife.
CHAPTER 73 Oromis The other Rider was Oromis. Eragon remembered when they had fought, and Oromis fought nothing like this. It was weird. ERAGON!!! Remember your lessons with me! You aren't! Pretty good fight, though. Oromis???
Who else, Brom?
But I'm fighting you!
No, you're not. I'll prove it.
Are you fighting me?
Nè. Happy?
Almost, ebithril. If I am not fighting you, than who am I fighting?You are fighting a being with the magical powers of a Shade. The only way that other Rider could sustain that illusion through your eyes, and not through magic, reveals that he must know Thryprên, the language of the Shades. Oh, and it would be to your advantage if you dodged this abominations new weapon, which in ten seconds will be in your heart.
Thanks for the tip. So? I know it. In the Thryprên you cannot decieve someone else who also knows it. Oromis gasped, and started working up his defense and attack. Meanwhile, Eragon rolled over, suprising his archenemy’s slave. In a last-minute attempt to correct his throw, he threw a spiraling curve-knife that worked its way steadily left, and almost hit a row of Empire soldiers. I say almost because Eragon’s nemesis pulled it back with the words Letta knifr. You can search my mind, Oromis. Remember the battle under Farthen Dûr? I killed a Shade, and all of its memories flooded into mine, unorganized. I organized them and kept them in a locked corner of my mind. You will find I am not evil if you search me. Eragon felt several probes going into his mind, and thought, hoping Oromis would pick it up, See? Perfectly safe. Do you think I should fight evil with evil using Thryprên? If that is what he is using, of course. Oh… Eragon smiles. Durza remembered that there is a version of Thryprên only Galbatorix knows. He may have taught it to this Rider. The other version of Thryprên is evil, corrupt and blackened beyond measure. If only the redheaded fool knew it. Ooooh, I know the Thryprên’s true name! Well, Durza did, anyway. It is— NO! DON'T TELL ME! DO YOU THINK I WANT TO USE DARK MAGIC! No. Anyway, I'll use it to disrupt all the Thryprên in the area. “Finnar abr freohr,” Eragon stated, and in a monumentus moment, the language belonged to Eragon. He cut the magic. Now he could see who it really was.
CHAPTER 74
Arya It was Arya. Wait a minute, Eragon thought to Saphira. Arya is with Nasuada discussing battle plans! I know, I stationed her there myself, replied Saphira.What was that, Eragon? Arya asked.Oh… You heard? We weren’t suspecting an eavesdropper, both Eragon and his dragon said, or rather thought, to Arya. Yes, I heard. I set my consciousness to detect anybody mentioning me telepathically. You are avoiding the question, though. What? The new Rider looked like Oromis, but I shut down his magic, and he started looking like you. Magic? The ancient language cannot change what one sees through ones own eyes. Only through scrying can an enemy magician falsify images, Arya stated.It wasn’t the ancient language, it was the Thryprên, Saphira replied. Thryprên? Aye. The language of Shades. Eragon and I know it, because when he killed Durza, the language, including all of Durza’s memories came to him and me. Good, you aren’t suddenly a shade. The last thing we need around here s a shadow rider. There have been a few in the course of history, you know. Oh great. The last thing we need is Galbatorix’s last egg hatching for a Shade. “You aren’t Arya, just like you weren’t Oromis.” Eragon told the other Rider. The other rider praised Eragon on his deduction, but shunned him in his battle side. This made Eragon so angry that he used a rock, one of the many stranded about the battlefield, and chucked it over the fake Arya’s head, subsequently murmuring “iet kodthr.” The Red Rider laughed, but soon the spell came into effect. The rock came sailing back to Eragon’s hand, hitting the other Rider squarely in the back. This hurt him enough that he dropped his magic.
CHAPTER 75 The Red Rider Oromis, with his lost disguise, Was Arya, who lost hers too. Thought the true ones both,
Who could it be,
With a helm of Gold? Arya cried For her lost friend, Who used to wear a Helm of Gold, Of whom we may never see again. Durza, Evil Durza, Who killed those so fine, Durza, Evil Durza, Oromis cries. For those who fought for Life and home, Those who fought for Good and bright, May never see the warm, sweet light Of the morning sun, Past Durza’s bitter embrace. Cry for them, Who gave all, For the fight For the Varden or, For the possibility of The slaying of Galbatorix. Galbatorix, Dark King Galbatorix, He who kills and Shades the light for Those who wish to Live in peace, Far from the capital, Far from Urû’baen. They fly far From hate and dark, From the court of Galbatorix, Dark King Galbatorix, Into the Beors, Surda, The Guarding Forest, Which is Du Weldenvarden. This is the aphotic world of Alagaësìa, Formerly the Boddring Kingdom, Where the capital Was Illerìa, Good sweet Illerìa. They fight for the Right to fight The right fight For the Right. Which happens to be Varden, in Surda. So who was this new Newcomer to the elite group, The Riders? Now we know that he died, And we know that No one can Recall the dead From their graves. So we all will ask How this came to be. For the other Rider hath Shot Durza, Evil Durza, And is Son of Morzan, Morzan, Vile Forsworner, Eld Äfwyrdfell, Rescued his brother Eragon From both prison and The Ra’zac’s fiery wrath, Those wraith-like creatures with Their Seithr Oil, daggers, swords and shields… You may Put the clues together, And we will have only one suspect… For though I have tried, With might and main, For long hours and short, Oh short days, To find a person who Fits the bill, But only one human, Human, that is right, remains.
1Page 349, Northern Lights, page 350, The Golden Compass, both by Phillip Pullman, both the first book in His Dark Materials Trilogy. |
Fiction
