Unchained 11

Blood covered his body from head to toe, his hair sticking to his face and his lips tasting of burnt copper as he blearily looked at the mountain of blue lying a few feet away from him. The world dimmed for a second, his eyelids closing slowly as something shouted from his right. As darkness enveloped his vision and he felt the pounding in his head lessen, the voice once again echoed around him, its sharpness along with the way something cold cupped his cheek giving his mind a brief moment of clarity.

Arya.

His eyes snapped open instantly, and a groan escaped his throat as he rolled over to his back. Feeling his mind roused up from sleep, he reached out toward the partner of his heart-and-mind, and he almost recoiled with horror at the shame that flowed through her.

“Eragon!” Arya cried by his ear, and he blinked as her raven hair descended upon his face, her emerald irises gleaming with the light from the fires around them, “Stay still Shur’tugal, you are injured and in no state to move! Angela and Orik are checking up on Saphira!”

A throbbing pain made itself known to him the next moment, as he gasped, his hand drifting up by his ribs to find the gash, warm blood trickling through the cut and wetting his fingers within moments. “Rest Rider,” Arya’s melodic voice once again echoed in his ears, and he looked up at her, his eyes scrunched in pain and his body flaring with more and more agony, even as he continued trying to reach out to Saphira, “We will see to Saphira’s safety and health, but you are in no condition to move. “Slytha…Sundavr-vergandí.”

A few minutes ago

“I meant Thorn and I, the partner of my heart and mind as Saphira put it.”

‘The Oathbreaker had a Rider all these years?!’ Obara’s voice rumbled in his mind through Saphira, and Eragon felt the anger and shock the Elder Dragons were feeling, each of their consciousness connected to him and Saphira, ‘We shall lend you and Saphira our strength Shur’tugal, but be wary of Murtagh and…Thorn. They are trained by Galbatorix himself, and no doubt carry Eldunari to aid themselves.’

‘We need to kill Durza first,’ Saphira thought to all of them as he saw Thorn enter the chamber fully, his large body easily twice or thrice the size of Saphira. The hall was large enough for Thorn to move freely, and he knew that Saphira would be at a disadvantage against the red dragon. However, Arya and he would have their hands full with Durza and Murtagh, “After that, we can focus on Murtagh and Thorn. They both will not strike to kill us or harm us in a permanent way, but the same cannot be said about the Shade.’

“This is the last time I am going to say this, Eragon.” Murtagh’s voice echoed in the hall as he flicked Zar’roc downwards, blood splattering off the crimson blade onto the ground, while Thorn growled and raised himself to his full height, flaring his wings out. For a moment, he was simply struck dumb by the fearsome yet beautiful sight they both were, a Rider and his Dragon standing together, majestic and terrifying at the same time.

“Drop your weapons and surrender,” the red Rider continued, his eyes turning towards Arya at the end as he looked at her with amusement, “and the same goes for you too… Ambassador Arya. Long has Galbatorix wanted to meet an elf ever since the Wyrdfell, and this time, you are not going to slip out of his clutches. Resistance is pointless Eragon, and it will only get you hurt—either way, you all are going to Urû'baen.”

“Enough of this pointless banter,” Durza growled, rolling his shoulder that had been stabbed earlier, “I get the kid, you take the elf.”

An eyeblink later, he jumped forwards, his pale sword flashing through the air as he cackled madly. Bringing up the purple blade, Eragon bit back the curses in his mind as he felt the power behind the strike. He was already bruised and battered from the continuous fighting he had been doing, while Durza had completely healed himself when Murtagh had been speaking. Their ferocious fight resumed itself once more as Thorn roared loudly overhead, jumping into the air and swooping down towards the sapphire dragon.

Leaning away from a slash meant to cut him from shoulder to hip, he back peddled away from the Shade, his flicking over to the Arya and Murtagh as they too clashed in a storm of whirling steel. The ground shook beneath him a moment later as Thorn slammed Saphira into the ground just beside him, the marble floor cracking and trembling under their combined weight. His eyes widened as he saw the giant red dragon open its maw, and Eragon screamed as he blindly threw his sword at it. The blade spun through the air, its purple edge coming to a stop against the wards that covered the mighty creature, breaking through a few of them before it stopped and clattered to the floor.

It barely took an instant, but it was enough to stop Thorn in his tracks, and take Murtagh’s attention from his fight with Arya. Running at the dragon as it turned its long neck towards him, Eragon blinked for a moment as it roared loudly, stumbling sideways and falling to its side, writhing and turning as if in great pain. Sliding underneath its flailing wing, he heard Druza shout behind him, but he paid no mind to it as he picked up his sword and turned around, staring the red dragon in the eye as it slowly, shakily stood up. Slit crimson eyes focused on him, the anger within them making him gulp for a moment as he saw its claws tap against the floor, piercing into it like a hot knife through butter.

Behind him, he felt Saphira, and he finally felt the throbbing develop in his shoulder, telling him about the blow she had taken to her forelimb. Growling in anger as the fear within him was washed away by a wave of protective fury, Eragon gripped his sword with both hands, feeling every inch of his body come alive as liquid fire seemed to flow through his veins. As Thorn reared up his neck and opened his jaws, he breathed in deeply, controlling the rage threatening to swallow his mind and sharpening it into a sword, wielding both his magic and his mind as he saw fire appear in the back of the dragon's mouth.

She saw Eragon run towards the two dragons, his sword clattering to the floor as it stopped against the red dragon's wards. Mentally screaming at him as she saw Durza languidly jump after him, she thought about a way to save the foolish rider without letting herself get injured—as much as she didn’t like to admit it, Murtagh was a great swordsman, with his strength and speed equal to that of an elf. Parrying his slash to her right, her eyes widened as she felt her hilt connect with the vambrace he was wearing.

‘He didn’t put any wards on himself after the spells on him wore off’ she realized, swaying back from an overhead slash as her eyes flicked towards Durza, his arm pulled back as he neared Eragon slowly, a maniacal grin on his pale inhuman features. An idea came to her as she took a step back, her face almost twisting in a grimace at what she would have to do. ‘This might just work.’

Flicking her wrist, she brought down her sword in an obvious slash, leaving herself wide open on her right, knowing that Murtagh would definitely take the opportunity. As her sword clashed against his crimson one, she saw him move inside her guard, which would have led to Zar’roc cutting through her side…only for her fist to strike his crotch with all the power she could muster.

Having decided to fight in light armor, Murtagh had forsaken the codpiece, and he paid for it as blinding, searing pain erupted from his groin. Stepping over his falling body as he grunted in pain, Arya raised her palm as Thorn's pained roar silenced every sound in the hall.

She watched Eragon slide underneath the dragon's limb, and as Durza made to do the same, she let the magic flow through her palm at the Shade. “Thyrsta” she whispered, a faint green light pulsing out from her palm. Durza flew through the air as her spell connected with him, and even as she saw him fall into a pile of Urgal guts, she turned and brought her sword down on Murtagh, trusting Eragon to take care of himself for the moment.

However, a red pulse traveled through the stone beneath them, and it cratered in an instant, the sudden quake sending her to her knees as the stone broke and shattered. She winced as a sharp shard of marble dug into her calf, but before she could even think about healing herself, she saw a crimson flash on the edge of her vision. Leaning back to dodge the Rider’s blade, Arya kicked out with her legs and rolled backwards, cursing up a storm in her head as she once again realised their position.

Murtagh and Durza were dangerous opponents, but she knew Eragon and she could defeat them. However, it was Thorn who was the deciding factor here. The large dragon was capable of breathing fire, and even a single one of his strikes could end the fight in an instant for them. She needed to tip the scales in their favor fast, or at least make them equal—for if things continued as they were, then Arya saw infinitesimally small chances of their victory.

Their fight resumed once more as the Red Rider growled in anger, his maroon eyes flashing red as Zar’roc came for her chest, and she parried it to the side. She moved inside his guard, preventing him from bringing his sword back towards her side as she brought up her sword towards his face, only for him to hook a leg behind her and push her with his shoulder. She fell back with a startled shout, her left hand already reaching back to stop her from hitting the cracked floor as she instead swung her sword downwards, the enchanted elven blade cutting through the thin armor on his thighs with ease. Turning around as Murtagh grunted and slashed at her shoulder, she parried it to the side, her eyes flicking down to the blood welling up from the cut she had delivered to him.

However, it was not without the rider managing to injure her, she realised, feeling the pain in her calf and the sting of the cut he had given to her cheek. Spinning her blade, she shot forwards at him, using the last bit of strength left inside her as she struck at him like a rampaging dragon, her speed and sudden bout of strength taking him by surprise. Growling in the back of her throat, she evaded Zar’roc as Murtagh stabbed at her chest, slamming the flat of the flat with her sword’s edge and sending it to the side. Bringing her sword back up, she struck his chin with the pommel, sending his head snapping back front the force of the blow. As he stumbled back a step, Arya stabbed forwards, but once again the ground shook beneath them, and this time, the already shattered floor broke into pieces completely, sending her and Murtagh crashing into the tunnels below.

Groaning as she shakily stood up, Arya gasped as she felt a powerful mind slam against her mental barriers. It struck against the walls of her mind relentlessly, the battering ram bit by bit honing itself into a spear as Murtagh swung Zar’roc at her face, his eyes furious and his lips bloody. Grunting as she blocked the mental as the physical attack, Arya felt a familiar mind touch the edges of her mental barriers, the tendril of thought reaching out towards her from the floor above.

Opening a small hole in her defences, she felt Eragon’s hurried voice echo in her ears —and what was with the feeling of several other minds present behind his psyche, the distinct draconic presence confusing her even more. Before she could ask any more about what he had said, he retracted from her mind and shut himself off completely—leaving her with a half-formed, mad, dangerous plan and just moments to execute it after some sort of sign.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He jumped rightwards as Thorn smashed his paw on the floor, gritting his teeth as he felt the meager wards on his body deplete further from the loose stones that shot up from the impact. Behind him, he heard Saphria shriek with fury, and he felt the taste of blood fill his mouth as she bit the larger dragon. Ahead of him, he saw Durza shakily get back to his feet, his arm bent at an odd angle as his face covered in Urgal blood. Growling with anger, he leaped towards the abomination, once again struck by the fact that Saphira had to battle Thorn alone for the moment.

“She won’t be alone Shur’tugal, nor will you be against that pathetic little Shade,” Jormun’s heavy voice echoed in his head, and Eragon gasped as he felt energy flow into him, “Durza is as much responsible for the Wyrdfell as Galbatorix and the Forsworn, we will give you as much power as you need to kill that thing. Don’ t worry about Saphira at the moment Rider, she is a smart hatchling, and Obara is helping her fight the Red one. You almost killed him before Galbatorix’s new toy showed himself, you can do it again!”

“Waíse heill” he muttered, spinning the purple blade in his hands as he looked back at the two dragons, Saphira was currently on Thorn’s back, her talons digging into his flanks and her jaws clamped around his much thicker neck—but unlike her claws, her teeth weren’t doing much damage to the larger dragon, his scales and hide much tougher and thicker than anything she had bitten until now.

Shaking his head, he turned towards Durza right as the Shade looked up at him, his smile somehow even more manic than before as he licked his lips clean of the Urgal blood. Grunting as she tightened his fingers on the hilt of the purple sword, Eragon heard his knuckles pop as he started walking towards the Shade. He started running midway, his eyes locked with the Shade’s crimson ones as Durza raised his pale sword once more, his posture a farcry from the relaxed and confident pose it had been when they had clashed just a few minutes ago.

He reached out towards where he could sense Arya and Murtagh, somehow able to sense how Murtagh was pushing against the seemingly infallible, unflawed defenses of the elf’s mind. He touched the walls of her mind briefly, feeling the untamed and unmatched fury of the dragons be unleashed upon Durza as they struck his fractured psyche. DImly, Eragon wondered just how many Dragons and Riders Durza had killed on his own as he saw the Shade stop mid-lunge, his face screwed up in rage and pain—and behind him, Thorn roared shortly as his mind too came under attack.

“Arya,” he whispered mentally as she opened her barriers slightly, once again stunned by the sheer depth of her mind and almost lulled inside by the strange melody that flowed through her consciousness, “Come up here and fly away with Saphira as soon as I give you a sign.”

Leaving her before she could give any response, Eragon reached out towards Thorn, his sword clashing against Durza’s as the Shade brought it up hurriedly, his crimson eyes wide and full of rage. However, clashing against Durza right now was never his true intention, and as Durza slid his blade up his sword’s edge to nick his neck, he just grinned up at the taller creature. Grabbing his sword arm by the wrist, Eragon grunted and turned them around right as he broke into the dragon’s mind. Steeling his mind to the sea of anger and pain that was Thorn’s consciousness, Eragon let the dragon see what he wanted him to see.

A company of dwarves running at him with their axes raised high.

With his mind under attack from the Elder Dragons and too much happening in the hall for his senses to be of any use, Thorn did the only thing a dragon did when it was irritated by something behind it…he swept his large tail like a club, intent on smashing the non-existent dwarves away into the walls around them. Licking his lips, Eragon backed away from the Shade, grabbing the side of his neck for added effect as he stumbled slightly. At the same time, the Dragons too pulled back from his mind, and Durza finally came back to the physical world fully, his lips pulled back in a bestial snarl as he pointed his sword at Eragon.

“You fucking ins-”

“Garjzla!” he whispered as the tail neared an unsuspecting Durza, a bright flash of purple light escaping his palm and blinding the Shade, while white spots danced on his eyes even though his lids were closed. The sound of Thorn’s tail hitting the Shade came an eyeblink later, and for a moment, Eragon just wanted to laugh at the surprised expression that came over the abomination’s face. Unlike when Arya had pushed him with her magic, the full force of Thorn’s tail struck the creature, and Durza’s short scream was cut off as he broke through the stone wall on the left, disappearing into the darkness.

However, before he could celebrate the momentary respite from the three-sided attack they had been facing, Thorn roared loudly and rammed himself into the wall beside him. Eragon screamed as he felt the mind-numbing pain in his left arm, and his scream was drowned out the next second by the pained roar that left Saphira, shaking the very ground as she shakily flew off Thorn’s back. Controlling his mind the best he could, he closed off the connection between him and Saphira as he saw the odd way her left forelimb of bent, and how she cradled it to her chest as she stumbled and dropped to the ground.

Thorn growled as he bent his body low, blood leaking from the wounds the blue dragon had given to him as he shook his head and started crawling towards Saphira once again. “Saphira needs to get healed Shur’tugal” Jormun’s voice flowed through his head, and Eragon grunted in agreement, gradually feeling the pain in his body ebb away as a familiar feeling once began to sweep through his brain like a tide.

“Saphira,” he growled, hsi voice a wrathful snarl as he started walking towards Thorn, feeling the fear and worry over his dragon turn into a storm of rage as his eyes begin to emit a faint purple light. He called out her name over their bond again, diving deeper into her mind, the pain and anger coloring her thoughts only fueling his own as he shouted her name once again, “Take Arya and fly over to the dragon hold to get yourself healed, and no, I am not listening to anything you are going to say.”

“I am n-”

“You are going to do as I say,” he growled, cutting her off as his anger grew even more, feeling the bestial, Shade-like draconic side of him emerge more and more as he let every ounce of anger inside him run loose, “You are in no condition to fight, and you need to get that crushed armor off you. Get to the dragon hold and bring back the Eldurnari with Arya while I stall Murtagh and Thorn.”

“Listen to him hatchling”, Obara-Elda’s voice flowed through their bond as the Elder Dragon spoke up, his words stilling the rising protest in Saphira’s mind as the Eldunari sent feelings of calmness and peace towards both of them, “We shall help Eragon against the Red Dragon and his rider while you and the elf recuperate for the moment and bring our Eldunari from the Shur’tugal’s chambers.”

Closing off his mind to Saphira as he felt her reluctant agreement with the plan, Eragon focused every single thought inside his head into a sword, his anger, and rage at Thorn and Murtagh’s betrayal coloring every inch of it. Driving it into the rebuilt barriers of the dragon’s mind, Eragon grinned as he saw his crimson eyes snap toward his. Running towards the Dragon’s leg, Eragon brought up his sword and slid on the floor as Thorn batted at him with his paw. “Verda hvass” he whispered, feeling the drain on his energy as the already magical blade was made even sharper, a magical layer just like the blocking spell forming over its edges, “Take this Murtagh!”

Gripping the sword with both arms, Eragon grunted as he felt it cut through Thorn’s paw, scales, and hide parting like cloth before the magically crafted and sharpened blade. He hissed as the dragon’s blood splashed down on him, boiling hot and burning his skin as Thorn shrieked in anger. Turning around as he stumbled for a moment, Eragon grinned and stabbed his blade in the large paw once again, pushing it with all of his might as he felt the tip encounter something hard—right before he cut through the bone too.

A ground-shaking roar left the dragon, and dimly, Eragon was aware of the pained shout that came from the Arya and Murtagh had fallen into. Pulling out his sword, he jumped back and looked at the wound he had given to the crimson dragon, smiling savagely at the sight of blood positively pouring out of the stab. However, the next moment, Thorn snapped out his wings and jumped into the air, turning around to glare at the Shade-Rider. His mind fought against the rider’s, the dragon’s own ancient mind and fury battling against the rampaging beast that was Eragon’s rage.

“You will be wise to surrender, Eragon, Rider of Saphira” his voice echoed even as they fought, and for a moment, Eragon was taken aback by just how deep and…angry the dragon sounded, his slit eyes seeming to burn with perpetual rage as Thorn flapped his wings once, blowing dust and rubble into the air, “You are brave, trying to save your dragon by telling her to escape with the elf, but you can’t defeat Murtagh and me together.”

“We will see about that,” Eragon growled back, raising hsi sword as Thorn reared his head back, a crimson glow beginning to emanate from his maw. As he bent his head down and breathed a wave of blood-red fire at him, he squared his feet and jumped towards it, feeling the heat of the dragon’s flames wash over his face, hotter and more powerful than anything he had ever felt, “No one is going to touch Saphira ever again, not you, not Murtagh, Not Durza and neither Galbatorix. I will kill you all before it comes to that!”