Unchained-10

“Fucking. Cocksucking. Motherfucking, Assholes. Of. Fucking. Animals,” Eragon panted between each stab and swing of his blades as he tore through the Urgals blocking his way to the Isidar Mithrim. His face was drenched in sweat, and he had discarded most of his armor on the way, leaving him only in his chainmail, vambraces and greaves, “Why the fuck do-duck!”

Arya did so immediately, her sword flashing through the air to sever the leg of the Urgal at her side, and she watched Zar’roc split the face of another in half. His sword tore through the flesh and bone with ease, but she could see how difficult it was getting with each swing and slash of his blade—both of them had been fighting continuously for hours at this point. She rolled forwards, her nose and body long since used to the smell and feel of blood upon her, and evaded the flailing arms of the crippled Urgal. Stabbing it in the head with her dagger, she moved on to her next target, the door to Isidar Mithrim’s atrium just ahead of them.

Bringing up her sword from below, she cut the Urgal from groin to neck, his innards spilling out on her feet as she moved sidewards. “Thyrsta!” she barked, thrusting her glowing palm towards the couple of the Urgals charging towards them, sending them crashing back into the marble wall with the sounds of their bones breaking echoing in the silent chamber. “Where are those two? Weren’t they supposed to be right here?”

“They were,” Eragon grunted, flicking his sword to get the gore off it as he walked into the atrium, straining his ears to the maximum to catch any movement or voice in the dead-silent surroundings. However, other than the sound of blood dripping from his and Aryas blades and the very faint echoes of the battle going on outside, he couldn’t hear a single thing, “Odyns beard, I knew this was going to happen.”

“What do you mean?” She asked him, whispering the words as she ran her eyes over every inch of the large Atrium, and a part of her realized what Eragon had meant by the words. She had never liked the two humans who led the sorcerers of the Varden and had Ajihads ear, but she had still never imagined them to be traitors. But now that Eragon had said the words, several things suddenly began to make sense to her, unexplained events and questions answering themselves as she took a deep breath, “They are the traitors in the Vardens High Command. The ones who have been feeding Galbatorix the information about every little thing that goes on here.”

“They are,” he grimly echoed her words, sending her a glance before he once again looked ahead. “It was just a passing thought, when they insisted upon searching our memories and giving me elaborate, useless tasks in the test along with their offers of teaching me magic. They were always fishing for information I might possess—and of course, that is not mentioning how they tried to delay your treatment in the hopes of probably attacking your tired and comatose mind.”

“I knew you were a smart lad when I saw you for the first time,” a cruel, familiar voice echoed around them, and both of them tensed up immediately, eyes snapping over to every corner as their hands tightened upon their swords even more. The painfully slow clapping came in next, and Eragon growled animalistically as he saw Durza fade into view before them, a dozen Kulls also appearing beside him, “It seems my gift improved more than your body, my young-to-be-apprentice.”

“Fucking shut up,” Eragon growled back, and Arya glanced at him warily. She could understand his emotions perfectly, having undergone the same treatment underneath Durza's hands—and for far, far longer too. But she knew that she had to keep as calm as possible right now. Her hatred and anger at the Shade aside, she could acknowledge that they were fearsome opponents. Only three people on record had come out victorious in a one-on-one battle against them, and Arya neither had the centuries' worth of knowledge and experience Laetri possessed nor had a giant dragon backing her up with its flames and mind both. Bringing her dagger to bear, she took a step forwards and glared at the shade as its eyes landed upon her, a cocky, sadistic edge coming to its smile.

“And you brought the elf to me too, my Eragon, you sure do work fast,” the monster bared its teeth at her, tilting its head as if it were a child seeing something for the first time. “What is this, Elf? Don’t you realize just what is standing beside you? Have you forgotten the teachings of your elders in that beautiful, disgusting forest you call your home?”

“I do recognize who and what is standing beside me, Shade,” she spat the word out, vitriol and wrath dripping from her voice, “What stands beside me is a Rider. Not a miserable, undead existence like you.”

“I don’t remember you being this mouthy,” Durza frowned, his crimson eyes glaring at her harshly, “and a Rider? Don’t make us laugh, girl. I saw Riders with my own eyes! Saw the power and prowess they commanded, and I defeated dozens all the same! You think some milk-toothed babe is going to help you win?!”

“Why don’t we find out?” Eragon snarled hatefully, and shot towards Durza, Zar’roc coming down diagonally from the right while his other blade stood poised to stab the Shade. Not expecting Eragon to display such levels of speed, Durza almost lost his life right then, the spirits inside him screaming against his skull as they realised what had happened that night in Gil’ead. He unsheathed his sword, flicking it upwards to parry the second swing, and in the same motion, evaded the sword coming for his stomach.

“You couldn’t even change properly!” He spat out, hate coloring his tone as Durza took the offensive, batting Zar’roc away to leave the Riders chest exposed. He punched with his free hand, while his sword arced down to cut him from shoulder to hip, Gritting his teeth, Eragon blocked the blow head-on, struggling against the slight height and strength advantage the Shade had over him, “But no matter, we will do it again! We will do it until I don’t succeed!”

Her attention on their fight was soon lost as she found herself surrounded by Kulls, each one armored in black and wielding a large axe or a sword. She grit her teeth, cursing Eragon for his impatience and herself for not starting first. She ducked underneath the brutal swing of the gargantuan axe, and slipped behind the Kull. Her thin blade passed through the boiled leather on its thighs with ease, and she hamstrung the large beast right before stabbing her dagger into the base of its neck.

Removing it from the Kulls body, she took a step back as blood spurted out of the deep wound, the beast falling to its knees as it died with a wet, gurgling moan. She sidestepped an overhead attack and swerved away from a jagged greatsword, taking a step back for a breather. One down, thirteen to go.

Durzas pale sword blurred by his shoulder, and Eragon bit back a curse as he felt blood stream down his arm from the deceptively thin cut the Shade had delivered. The blasted Shade was better than him in every aspect. He had more power behind his strikes, his speed was greater, and he also had more than a lifetime of experience in fighting Riders and Elves.  Even now, despite being dozens of times better than he had been in Gil’ead, Eragon was falling short of truly defeating the Shade. By now, he had succeeded in only grazing the abomination's cheek and delivering a short cut on its palms' upper side—and in return, he had taken one to his shin, one to his elbow and one to his shoulder.

Blood dripped into his left eye, and he growled in annoyance. Of course, there was one right above his eyelid, from when he had barely saved his eye from Durza's pale blade. His swords sang through the air in a storm of steel, blurred arcs of crimson and violet, the only hints of their movements as he struck at Durza from every angle possible. And yet, the Shade defended against him perfectly, his mocking smirk and that cruel glint in his red eyes ever present.

“I thought someone was going to defeat me?” he grinned, suddenly lashing out with a foot and kicking him square in his chest, sending him flying back right into Arya. He crashed into her, and both of them rolled across the ground before they stopped with a groan, “You are weak! Pathetic Eragon who couldn’t save his uncle, his cousin, his village, his mentor and not even his poor little dragon!”

Eragon roared with rage at that and jumped to his feet, only to barely save his shoulder from being chopped off by a Kulls vicious looking sword. Tired to his last muscles, Eragon panted heavily as he walked back, his purple eyes unblinking as he watched Arya jump towards Durza. Her lithe form slid through attacks and parries and evasions with a fluency that he could not have matched in a lifetime. But she too was tired, and it showed itself within a few strikes as Durza gained a cut on her shoulder as easily as he had done it against him. An eyeblink later, his vision was occupied by the large arm coming towards his gut, and Eragon growled angrily, lopping it off at the elbow as Zar’roc entered the nose of the Kull.

One down, two to go.

“You are going to lose here,” Durza cackled as he pulled back from her stab, but Arya followed it up with an upward stroke meant to take his eyes…and right at that moment, she felt the Shades greatest weapon. Something powerful, primal and familiar slammed against the shields of her mind, and Arya staggered for a moment. Against a normal human on a normal field, it would have been nothing. Against a Shade on the marble floor slickened with blood, and her mind under attack, it was a death sentence.

Arya watched with a widening eyes as Durza took his chance, and his pale sword came towards her face, intent on skewering her through the brain. The world slowed to a crawl as she felt herself tilt forward and her sword instinctively moved to rest against the floor while she righted herself, but she knew it would be of no use. She was going to die here, defeated by the Shade she had vowed to kill, far away from her home and mother.

Right as the incoming sword became the only thing she could see, she felt something fly by her head, and the world once again resumed its pace. She righted herself using her sword and rolled sidewards, her eyes widening as she beheld the sight of Zar’roc buried in Durzas shoulder. The shade roared with rage, its eyes wild and brimming with fury as Eragon jumped towards him. However, now with a sword in his shoulder and no time to pull it out, Durza had a much harder time fighting against the Rider.

She joined the fray too within moments, blocking and parrying when Eragon couldn’t, while he did the same for her as they together forced the Shade back. Deciding to corner him and kill the abomination finally, Arya struck the Shades mind with all the force she had, fining her thoughts into a dagger that struck the chaotic yet firm barriers of Durzas psyche. The spirits inside him responded instantly, and they screamed physically as well as mentally, threatening to drown her amidst the sheer rage and hatred brimming within them.

Durza attacked both of them with a renewed vigor, and Eragon stumbled mid attack as he too suffered from the sudden mental lance that peirced his thoughts. Roaring with rage even as he felt the Shade plunder through his mind while he did his damnedest to stop it, Eragon struck back right at the source of the mental intrusion. His sword slipped past Durzas guard and nicked his neck, and Aryas cut open his shoulder as they both rammed their minds against the swirling, blinding walls that protected Durzas thoughts.

Divided as his attention was on warding off and evading their combined attacks, both mentally and physically, Durza couldn't do anything in the face of the sudden power that came behind Eragons mental spike. His defences were pierced right through, the Shade screamed with agony he felt the Rider and his Dragon stomp the feeble resistance he tried to put up.

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DESERTHEATTHIRST

Eragon blinked the sands of the Hadarac away from his vision as he swayed in his place, Saphira’s roar som,ehow the only thing he could hear over the howling of the sandst-oh wait, he was in Tronjheim, not Hadarac—and he was Eragon, Rider to Saphira, not Carsaib, student to Haeg.

POWERLAUGHSDARKNESS

He screamed in anguish as once again the foreign, unpleasant and powerful sensation of spirits rushing into his body and mind filled his thoughts. In the background of his mind, Saphira roared loudly, and he felt her flying through the air towards them faster than she had ever flown before. The next moment, he was back in Hadarac, slaughtering the bandits that had murdered Brom with hsi bare hands and magic while Saphira and Murtagh drank water from the pits.

Their memories blurred together even as they both fought brutally in the physical world, each of them seeing the others thoughts and dreams and moments they violently stabbed at each other’s minds. Slowly but surely, he began to pummel Durza into defence, Saphira and the Eldunari providing him a constant stream of energy as the dead-but-alive dragons stopped caring about hiding to see the Shade dead. The World faded away for Eragon as he focused on Durza completely even as his nose bled from the amount of strain he was under, physically as well as mentally. Hatred and anger fgrom both Saphira, the Eldurnari, and surprisingly even Arya overflowed within his mind, until all he could think was destroying Durza to the last particle. His magic responded to his thoughts instantly, and a dark blue aura began to form around him as he raised his sword once more, his purple eyes coming alight with power.

“BRISINGR!” he roared, pouring every ounce of his magic into his sword, and brilliant purple flames swirled into existence along its length as the blade descended.  He saw nothing but the widening eyes of Durza, and the purple fire rtelfected in his maroon eyes as his blade turned, the tip ready to skewer the Shade through his dead, black heart.

“Thyrsta!” a familiar voice spoke up, and Eragon blinked as he felt a veritable battering ram crash into his back the next moment. His sword fell from hsi grip and clattered to the floor as the flames upon it died, and he was dimly aware of the horrified gasp Arya let out as he went spinning through the air. He landed on one of the dead Urgals, black blood plsttering all opver his face as Saphira roared right above their heads, shaking the whole atrium with teh force of her anger…and Eragons asw through her eyes—even though a part of him already knew what he was going to find behind him.

He turned around, the purple in his eyes more prominent than ever as he saw Murtagh standing at the entrance to the atrium with his hand raised in his direction. “Get up Durza,” he spoke, and there was none of that…life that it had carried with it before, the little bit of bitterness and amusement that was everpresent in the Murtagh he had known, “And bring my sword with you will you?”

“Whu…What is happeni-Murtagh?” he whispered with shock, watching Durza pull Zar’roc out of his shoulder with a grunt and hand it over to Murtagh as he walked upto the sorcerer, “What are you doing?”

“Just taking what is mine by birth,” cam eth answer as Murtagh grabbed Zar’roc, staring at it with total silence even as Saphira came to a stop above them, her low growl making the hairs on his arms stand as he felt eh very ladn slide out from unde rhis feet, “After all, Morzan’s eldest does deserve his sword more than his youngest son, doesn’t he Eragon?”

“Morzan’s so-I don’t understand,” he mumbled, unable to understand just why in the name of Odyn would Murtagh help Durza and speak of wielding Zar’roc and Morzan’s youngest son—he had never heard from the older man of a younger brother, “You were lying all along?! About hating Morzan and Galbatorix and wanting to stay away from the Empire?!”

“Quite true I am afraid,” he replied drily, still looking atht crimson blade in his hands with wonder, before he gave it a twirl and looked up at him, “Now, I don’t wnat to hurt you Eragon, because I admit I have grown a little bit fond of you over hte moons, so I am going to ask this only once. Surrender now along with Saphira and swear fealty to Galbatorix in Uru’Baen…brother.”

The world stopped for Eragon there, and all he could see were the moments with Murtagh wither away in the flames of betrayal and the rapidly growing wrath inside him. “You tricked me. You used me to gain access to teh Varden and Saphira—you were never my friend….you were just there on his orders, pretending and hiding.”

“I wanted to see what had become of my brother,” Murtagh growled, taking a step forward as he raise dhis sword at him, “But then news came that you had become a Dragon Rider like our father, and thus, the Kign gave me an Order, “ he sighed heavily the next moment, and lowered the blade, looking at him softly, “I am still your friend Eragon, I am your Elder Brother. How could I not look for anything but your welfare and safety?”

“Brot-No no NO NONNONONONO!” Eragon mumbled shockedly, adn then screamed as the realization of what Murtagh was saying settled into his brain. Ahead of him, Arya gasped once more, her eyes flitting between him and the supposed Elder brother as she took a step back from both of them. Eragon screamed hysterically, his eyes squeezed shut as he remembered all those times he had seen Brom keeping an eye on him over the years, how Brom accompanied him when he became a Rider, and how Brom mysteriously popped up in Carvahall at the same time his mother appeared, pregnant with him.

‘ERAGON!’ Saphria shouted in his mind, and he somehow grasped onto her like she was a firm rock in teh middle of a flood, drowning in the storm of emotions that were brewing upo insid ehis heart, ‘Focus now on Murtagh and the Sahde, he has completely healed himself up, and I can’t keep him at bay anymore. Fight now, think later!’

“Don’t think of fighting Eragon,” Murtagh spoke up, tilting his head and spinning Zar’roc idly, “You won’t win against us. Not now, not ever—not even with those Eldunari Durza stupidly lost to you.”

“I think we have a pretty good chance,” he responded formly, letting the anger flow through hsi mind as he felt Saphira take a step forward, while Arya walked to stand besides him, “Durza would have been dead if you had not intervened then, and while you may be a strong mage, Arya is more than a match for you.”

“Of I diodn;t mean Durza and me little brother,” Murtagh laughed, and Eragon hisvered at the cruelty and coldness it had. His eyes widened as he watched Murtagh raise his right arm, the palm facing towards them, with its center glowing crimson, “You see,  Morzan was my father too Eragon, and Galbatorix just had a hunch a few years ago.”

“No,” he mumbled, stumbling back as if struck, and as if to pucntuate his statement, a series of screams came from outside where the Varden’s armies were still fighting against the Urgals. A dull thud became audible, even as white light moved and spilled forth from Murtagh palm, while Saphira let out a threatening growl as her tail whipped back and forth. Arya let out a choked gasp, and he heard her knuckled pop as her grip upon her sword tightened, while in front of his eyes, Murtagh’s eyes turned maroon, and his ears turned pointy, “No NO NO, this can’t be!”

“Oh but it is little brother,” Murtagh grinned right as the wall behind him was blasted apart into an explosion of dirt and stone and fire and heat as loud, fearsome roar shook the very ground they were standing on. Sharp, long teeth silhouette against a glowing maw were the first Eragon saw, right before a large, red head came out of the smoke. The ruby like scales shimmered in the light of the Star Sapphire, and its crimson eyes flickered over him briefly befor they snapped to Saphira, teh she-dragoness growling even loudly as she bared her teeth at the Dragon. Murtagh grinned proudly as the dragon lowered its head and its full body came out of the smoke, his Gedwëy ignasia shining red upon his palm, “I meant Thorn and me, the partner of my heart-and-mind as Saphira put it.”