I just wanted to thank all of you for giving me time to finish the huge mound of work on my plate, so to speak. Have patience! I have no intention of letting this fic fall on the wayside. I will be sending around periodic Newsletters about the fic's progress. If you see an E-mail with the subject being `TDS - NewsLetter', then that's what it'll be. If you want to be added to the newsletter, put your e-mail address and author/reader pen name in a review.
Also: KittenRebecca has guessed correctly in my little contest. Thus, the contest is now closed. The dates were August 14, 1996 and March 28, 1998. Congrats. Meanwhile, the rest of you can chew on that new information as well as any other such info you might dig up in this chapter.
Remember to dig well. There are quite a few clues in this chapter, though you may never find them…
I don't think I have anything else to say, so on with the show!
--
The Draconis Saga
--
Chapter 8
Eragon
--
Harry took the pebble from the shelf in his quarters, flinging it high into the air and caught it deftly as it fell back through the air. He grabbed the large book from the table in the living room of his quarters and sat down in the rocking chair next to the window.
Looking out, he watched the sun begin to sink from the sky, turning the clouds and sky pink and golden, and casting long shadows across the ground of the Elvin fortress. As the sun sank slowly lower, the light glared off of the water fall and through the window, casting deep orange shadows around the room.
Opening the large tome, he began to read. As he did so, he muttered a few soft words. The silver mark on his hand glowed faintly and the pebble rose quickly out of his hands and began to move around the room as he moved his hand.
The book he held was the Lai'gĩra, or the Language. Inside was the book of the Elvin Ancient Language. It was aid to be the first language, once spoken by all creatures, but it had been lost to time. Now, only the elves still spoke the tong, but it had other uses. It was the language of magic. Real magic. All one had to do, the Sage had explained to him, was focus you magic to a single point in our body, speak the words of magic, and release it, and it would do your bidding.
He flicked up another stone into his right hand.
"Stenr reisa!"
The second stone rose quickly into the evening air, joining the first and moving around in the ceiling.
The new type of magic intrigued him. He had told the Sage about the ways of magic he was used to and demonstrated with the wand he still carried with him at all times, and the old wise man had questioned him extensively about the magical theory of his world. He did not know much of what the old Sage had asked him to explain, but their discussion had revealed some paths of interest to him.
He was interested to find out whether he could use his brand of magic without a wand. To test his theory, he had tried a few spells while using the same methods he was being taught to focus his magic in the manner used by the elves.
He had tried and failed. He could summon up magic without much thought, but he could not direct it with the incantations used for his wand, as he could using the Ancient Language. He had his suspicions, though. He suspected greatly that the incantations used with a wand were meant to use the magic inside both the caster and his or her wand core. He'd laid the matter to rest afterward, resigning to learn the methods of magic used in this world as soon as he could.
He had been having trouble learning to speak the Ancient Language, which he put down mostly to having to learn a strange language that was foreign even to his own world. He had practice, though. Like all elves, the Royal Guards manning the castle spoke both the Ancient Language and English, which was known here as the Common Tong, and the Sage's instructions were to practice the language whenever possible.
As the light faded from the horizon outside of the window, he closed the book with a sigh, setting it down on the table in front of his chair.
He moved off to his door, walking out into the hallway and moving off to the Dining halls for dinner while muttering words and phrases under his breath.
He was just entering the halls, which were filled this evening with chattering elves enjoying a idle meal, when he felt the now familiar brush of Ashrang's mind against his own.
What is it?
He heard a mental chuckle in recesses of his consciousness. Nothing important, my boy… You haven't ridden with me at all, or even had a conversation… The other Dragons are comforting, but I become lonely…
He sighed, sending reassuring thoughts to his faithful companion. I know how you feel. I get lonely too, sometimes… Take heart, though. As soon as my control over magics is perfected in another month or so and I'm armed with my own weapons, then the future is ours to determine. The nine of us will be free to go about waging this war with the Empire with the other Elves and the Varden. After that, we will go home again…
Ashrang seemed satisfied with this, and withdrew from his mind without another word.
Harry sighed again and pulled a dish of food toward him. He went over the magical words in his mind again, to make sure that his ever growing knowledge of them did not fade away just as soon as he had learned them.
He ate silently before putting down his fork in exasperation and walking quickly out of the room. As soon as he exited the hall he leapt into the air and transformed. The transformation was slower than Sirius had ever done it, but he was getting better. Every time he changed, it went just a bit faster and took less thought.
He ran through the building, his sleek, white, leopard's body moving silent and fast. He soon reached the Dragon's Tower. He padded slowly up the step spiral staircase, which,. After a minute or so of constant climbing, finally levelled out.
He pushed open the door with his nose and padded softly into the vast cavern of a room. The huge holes around the walls containing the Dragons stood full except for three.
I wonder when the last of us will arrive, he pondered, closing the door behind him with a click and loping over to Ashrang's quarters.
As he approached, the Black Dragon lifted his head and stared down at his companion with interest.
Well, this is certainly a first… Come to talk as a beast instead of a man?
Harry walked over to the Dragon, lying down next to him and resting against Ashrang's black scales. It's easier to sort things out as an animal. It's easier to think.
He rested his head on his paws and let out a low growl of frustration. I feel lost here. I know little of this world or its people. I will fight against the Empire, but what after that? Will I ever go home, my friend?
Ashrang sent him calming thoughts along with a sigh. It cannot be helped, little one. You will learn in time how this world works. After this, if the prophecy is true, we will go back to your world again, but it will not be the same. You have changed too much over the last four and a half months to ever have things the same again. After that, though, nothing is certain.
Harry let out another growl.
Let it be for now. We will think things out as we go along.
Harry gave a slight grunt of feline acknowledgement. I miss them all, though. The problem is that I like it better here…
With that though, he closed his eyes and fell into slumber.
---~*~---
The King sat in his throne room, listening to the report of one of his commanders. He was interrupted, though, as an armoured soldier ran into the room bearing a scroll.
Galbatorix lifted his head to watch the soldier as he entered. His short, salt-and-pepper-grey hair blowing slightly in the wind let in through the door by the messenger. His cold, black eyes crackled with powerful lightening, and his wrinkled skin tensed in anticipation of what he was about to hear.
"We have received word from the Ra'zac, Your Majesty. They say they are camped in the forests of Du Weldenvarden, just north of the area where the renegade, Eragon, was said to have been last seen by our spies. They also bring good news, my Lord."
He waited, but the messenger did not continue. "Well," he snapped with barely controlled malice. "What is it!?"
"They send word that they have spotted elves in the Forests. Your suspicions were correct. What are your orders?"
The King put his fingers together and thought slowly, weighing the possibilities.
"Tell the Ra'zac and their 50 soldiers to move into the woods and capture the Rider, the Dragon, and his two companions . Impress upon them the need for the utmost secrecy. They must not be found." He paused for a second before continuing. "Mobilize the First and Third Divisions and direct them to make for Cuenon and await further orders."
They soldier nodded and bowed his way out, leaving the king and his commander alone. Galbatorix waved his general out and was left to think.
And so it begins, doesn't it Shruken?
The King had a response that only he could hear. A cold, mirthless, draconic laugh. Yes it does, Master, yes it does…
---~*~---
Eragon walked slowly through the Forest, his eyes and ears alert for any sign of trouble. Saphira padded behind him, Arya and Murtagh following at the rear and leading their horses.
The Forests of Du Weldenvarden stretched in all directions. The deep green canopy dimmed the light, leaving soft rays of sunlight to illuminate the forest floor. Brightly lit clearings were dotted here and there, and craggy outcroppings of rock stood like grey monoliths every few hundred yards. Dried leaves, sticks and moss covered the forest floor, making it hard to travel on. They avoided the roads, as Arya had said it would raise too many questions from whomever they met on the tracks.
They had arrived in Ceris the day before, and Eragon and Murtagh had waited outside in the forest while Arya went in to purchase more supplies and to send a message on to Ellesméra. They set had set out North that morning in the direction of the Gaena River. From there, they would travel up the river to Lake Ardwen and SÃlthrim. The going was slow, but with Arya as their guide, they found the paths and landmarks they needed to know they travelled in the correct direction.
The Forests of Du Weldenvarden were, for the most part, dark and mysterious. Creatures of unknown size stirred everywhere, punctuating the silence with rustles and cracks every few seconds. The great trees, some as wide as a small house, stood like lone soldiers in the soft light shining down from above them.
"They are as old as the forest itself. They have stood here for as long as any elf can remember," Arya had said. "They have been here since the time of my Race's arrival in Alagaësia more than 6,000 years ago."
The trail was rough but traversable. They walked slowly through the trees at a steady pace, stopping at times to practice the sword, to hunt for food, and to eat or sleep. Eragon was constantly aware of how the terrain stayed the same, but the elevation seemed to rise steadily the entire time.
They had made good time, though. By the end of the day, they had reached a small mountain which Arya said was roughly half way to the Gaena. As they climbed, they searched for a convenient place to camp for the night.
Just as the sun had sunk completely under the horizon, they came across a large cave set deep into the side of the mountain and behind a mask of large bushes. The cave was large but dead. The stalactites and stalagmites that had once grown from the floor and ceilings of the underground rooms in bygone days grew no more. The façade of the cave had not changed in centuries.
Then did not set up tents inside the cave, but put down their bed roles on the sandy floors of the cave. As the light began to fade from the sky, they lit a fire in the cave mouth and Murtagh prepared some food. Arya stood just outside the cave mouth, scanning the area around them in search of any danger.
Dinner was served quickly. Afterward, the three took turns sparring with each other while one took watch. Saphira, while muttering about the strangeness of the humans and elves she minded, decided to go hunting, and she sprung into the air and was gone.
When it was decided that it was time for them to sleep in preparation of the next leg of their journey to Ellesméra, Arya volunteered to take the first watch. She stood just outside the cave, watching and listening only half-heartedly, dwelling as she did so on what would happen when they reached the Elvin capitol.
The wind rushed through the forest in small gusts from the west, revealing no scent. The glow of the fire lit up the immediate area around them, yielding no dark form. Except…
The glint of an feral eye winked suddenly out of the gloom, catching her attention. She fixed her sight on it but it had vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. She stood as still as she could, slowing her breathing, becoming just another shadow in the forest.
The trees rustled in the wind. A twig snapped somewhere in the woods behind her and a shadow moved quickly in front of her.
She closed her eyes and focused, bringing her magic into her grasp.
"Qia eis propare," she muttered, releasing the magic.
She sensed it rush out into the forest around her, invisible tendrils of magic forming a web some one hundred feet wide. The tendrils writhed and twisted, searching inside the web for any creature which might lie there. They rushed back to her soon enough, revealing a mental picture of the area around them.
She gasped in spite of herself. Fifty of Galbatorix's soldiers and the Ra'zac surrounded them. How did I not see them? She backed slowly into the cave, making it look as if she did not s=know if their presence. The Ra'zac could not sense magic, she thought, which was a relief. They would not know that they had been discovered.
Why are they waiting?, she thought. Why do they not attack? She cast her mind about for any possible reason for the delay.
Saphira.
That was it. They waited for the Dragon to return so that they could catch the four of them at once and not have to take a chance if Eragon called her.
She had reached her two companions and she shook each of them until they woke. She pushed a hand over each of their mouths so they could not speak and contacted the two of them with her mind. It cost magical strength, but she had to risk it. It took some effort, but she got through.
We are surrounded. Draw your weapons and be ready to fight. They cannot see you in here. Eragon, you must call Saphira.
They nodded and pulled their weapons from their packs.
Eragon cast his mind about for Saphira and found her flying not too far from them.
Saphira!, he yelled with his mind. You must come to us! We are being attacked!
He sensed her grim acknowledgement and he focused now on the task at hand. He did not know how they could win this. The three of them were no match for fifty of the King's soldiers and the Ra'zac. Saphira would turn the odds, but not if she did not turn up in time.
They positioned themselves inside the mouth of the cave and waited.
Snow began to fall as the time passed slowly by them, coating the side of the mountain in a white sheen. The light of the full moon occasionally broke through the storm clouds, making the ground sparkle.
Silence weighed down on them. Silence…listening to silence. Not a things stirred in the trees. No single sound broke upon their straining ears. Both groups of fighters knew that the other knew they waited, but still, nothing happened. They waited for Saphira. The King's troops would not attack until she came, and the three travellers could do nothing until she arrived to help them.
And then she came.
The sound of her wings was muffled in the cold night air. She slid between the clouds until she was behind the position they thought the Ra'zac would take, a cold blue wraith in the winter sky, and then dived.
Chaos was let loose. The Ra'zac and twenty of the King's troops were occupied with Saphira, who was fighting madly with them all, all sanity forgotten as she let loose tooth, claw, and fire. The rest of the troops stormed the cave. Steel clashed on steel, but Eragon could already see that he battle would be lost.
There were just too many of them. Whenever Saphira turned on way to attack a soldier, the others would come close, jabbing her with their weapons and climbing onto her back. The Ra'zac were dodging around her, throwing their chains over her back, and she was having trouble stopping it. Already they had thrown over three of the six they needed to secure her. Just as they had the first time, they drove the ends of the chains into the ground, pinning her beneath them. Her head was still up and about, but that too was soon immobilized. All she had left was her fire, and she dispatched four soldiers simultaneously with a well placed blast, but the Ra'zac were too quick for her. They fitted a huge muzzle over her mouth, and she fought no more.
Things were going steadily down hill with Eragon, Murtagh and Arya. They had evened the odds a bit, dispatching twenty of their thirty attackers soon enough, but after the Ra'zac had secured Saphira, they and the five soldiers the Dragon had not killed came and added their weight to the battle.
Eragon and the two others were steadily pushed back into the cave's recesses, despite the fact that they downed many of the attackers as they went. Soon they were backed against the rear wall, fighting for their lives.
Eragon, Arya and Murtagh were soon overrun. With only the soldiers, it had been hard, but manageable, but with the addition of the Ra'zac to the force pitted against them, they could see they would be beaten. He signalled to them behind his back, sending the message to each of their minds so they would know what to do. They gave him sharp glances, and in Murtagh's case, a glare, but they followed his request non the less. Slowly they lowered their swords. Scarlet blood dripped slowly from the point of the blade, coating the floor in a deathly sheen.
As soon as the swords pointed to the ground, the soldiers of the King moved in and knocked them to the ground. The swords clattered off of the rock floor with a reverberating clang, making everyone in the room flinch.
"Tie them up," snarled the smaller of the two Ra'zac.
The soldiers rushed to obey, bringing in thin cords to tie up the three prisoners wrists. Eragon grudgingly allowed his arms to be forced behind him by two burly troops, who tied them tightly behind his back; not enough to cut off blood circulation, but it did not allow for much movement either.
"Bring them with us."
The soldiers nodded and pulled the three of them to their feet while another collected the weapons of their captives. As soon as they were out of the cave, where the snow had increased slightly to a light flurry, the taller of the two Ra'zac pulled out a small vial from inside his cloak which he handed to one of the soldiers standing next to him.
"Four drops for the Rider and the Elf. None for the other. He is not," he paused for a second, choosing his words, "worth it." He smirked and walked back into the forest, leaving his shorter companion with the rest of his surviving troops and their four new charges.
Orders were quickly given and followed, and soon a small camp was nestling itself down for the night. Arya and Eragon had been force fed the drug the Ra'zac had brought, and their minds soon dulled, straying away from rational thought or magic until they were in a drunken stupor. They were thrown in a tent with their hands still tied together where they lay down and tried to sleep.
Eragon was the last to fall into slumber. He lay on the hard floor of the tent and tried to think of something to do. He gathered together what force of mind he still had and tried to focus.
If only I could call for someone to help us, he thought.
He cast his mind about and settled on the Mourning Sage. He would surely send help…
He focused with all his strength and tried to find his magic. It eluded his grasp for a while, but he finally managed to grasp it for a split second. He gathered together what magic he could muster and thought only of the Sage.
Focusing with all his might, he sent out a single thought into the ether. Help us…
---~*~---
Harry loped slowly through the halls of Deraht Näan, the castle he had been staying in for the past five months, in his Animagus form. He'd learned this by speaking with one of the castle guards. His knowledge of the Ancient Language was, as the sage said, `adequate'. It was good enough, though, that he was able to speak to the guards in what Tristan had dubbed `Pigeon Elvish'. He was progressing fast, though, as he was in his other magical studies, and the Sage had voiced the opinion that in another two months, he would have a full command of the language.
He padded slowly through the halls of the castle, purring at the guards he knew in greeting. They nodded and smiled, one or two giving him a slight pat on the head as he passed. It took another two minutes of wandering before he arrived at the Sage's study. He had free time for another hour or so, and he often went into the Study for a bit of conversation or to talk about his studies in further detail, and the Sage was always happy to oblige. Today, though, he just needed a quiet place to think.
He pushed open the door with his nose and loped into the room, where he found himself face to face with an Elf, who seemed to be halfway through leaving the room. The Elf gave him a startled look and edged around him to the door, which he shut behind him with a snap.
The sage looked up and smiled.
"How nice of you to come in. My guest," he looked distastefully at the door behind Harry, " did not seem to want to leave…"
He trailed off and sighed, looking back down at the work on his desk. He glanced at a note that had been left on top of a large sheaf of parchment before peaking to him again.
"You and your piers have had your trials scheduled. Depending on who you are, they should be in about two months."
Harry nodded his white, furry head once in affirmation before going over to the huge ceiling-to-floor window and lying down at its base, staring out at the huge Elvin capitol city in deep thought. The lake below the castle shimmered in the sunlight. Elvin children played in the parks dotted throughout the ancient city he looked down upon. Smoke rose from the smithies and houses in small, swirling tendrils.
He missed Hogwarts, his professors, friends, and Hermione. I'll be back there soon enough, though. After the Empire falls, We will turn the tides of my own war…
He felt Ashrang brush against his mind. The Dragon sent him calming thoughts as well as a picture of what the he was up to. It seemed the Dragon was engaged in tearing meat off of a young buck in a clearing just over a league away.
What bothers you?
Homesickness.
Take heart, little one. I have seen through your memories the disdain you hold for you're the fame you hold in your world. It is time for you to be able to make a name for yourself, for once and to break from the bonds of Childhood and become what you were meant to be. Now is your chance…
Harry felt a rush of determination at Ashrang's words. You are right. I am tire of being thought of as a celebrity and a child… I will forge myself into one whom all will fear…
The Dragon sent him a few calming thoughts. And I will be by your side throughout it all, little one…
(A/N: No, this is not a sign of evil.)
The Sage, who had been looking down at his paper in concentration, suddenly looked up with a jolt, knocking things in all directions. His eyes were unfocused and he muttered words under his breath that were not intelligible.
As sudden as it had begun, it was over. The Sage looked down at Harry, who was still in his Animagus form under the window.
"Astyan?" he said wearily, as if out of breath.
Harry got up and came to his side, placing a large white paw on the Sages lap in answer.
The old man smiled for a few seconds, but he became serious again in an instant.
"I have a task for you, Rider…"
---~*~---
Hermione Granger sat in the Gryffindor common room, Advanced Defensive Theory propped up in her lap. She watched the snow fall steadily outside the window. Squally January wind buffeted the window and whines around the castle and through the gaps between the many turrets and towers. It was a Saturday, and the day before, the main population, attired in full winter regalia, had pervaded the grounds in a number of spectacular snowball fights involving almost everyone who happened to be outside at the times they ensued. The end result was a troop of very wet and very cold students filing in at roughly four in the afternoon in search of warmth and a dry change of clothes. It was rumoured that Dumbledore himself had been seen snowballing Professor McGonagall in the early stages of a particularly vicious snowball war involving the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins against the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors.
But the reality was slowly closing in on them…
The War was fast escalating into full scale combat, but both sides did not yet have their full strength together, and Voldemort would not attack when he did not have his full strength assembled. They had time, and the Order and Ministry, now working as one with the removal of Fudge the month before. He had been replace by Amelia Bones, a close friend of Dumbledore's and an ardent supporter.
But the tide of Darkness was sweeping the world none the less. Death Eater activity was up ten-fold, and attacks on prominent light families and Muggles was becoming too frequent for comfort. Voldemort, it was known had already sent envoys to all of the foreign Ministries he was sure would support him, and while the Order did the same, it was clear that Voldemort was gaining too much ground. They would have to strike soon, but they did not yet have enough resources.
The sides were fast being drawn. The German, and Eastern Bloc countries had already sided with Voldemort, as had the Finnish (by force, it was obvious), Chinese, and the Ukrainians. The Russian, American, Australian, French, Italian, British, Spanish, Canadians, Japanese Wizarding governments. The nations of South America, the Middle East, and Africa had opted to stay neutral, as they were not up to being involved in any sort of war at the moment. Internal conflict raged in many of the countries, and they had problems enough of their own.
The problems were still clear, though. Even with the two large Allied forces facing off against each other, it was clear that they would have to reveal their world to the Muggles. They needed ground on which to fight, after all…
Hermione pushed the thoughts out of her head.
Things went much better at Hogwarts. The DA, led by herself and the rest of the Order of Aries, had swollen to over 200 members, but it was still only about a fifth of the school population. They met three times a week. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday were fast becoming the brightest days of the week. The fifth, sixth, and seventh years of all four houses, excluding the Death Eater sympathizers trained extensively, and they were fast becoming a force to be reckoned with.
Hermione fingered the ring on her left hand thoughtfully. The Platinum reflected in the light, casting strange light over the ceiling of the common room. She could only hope that things went well in the near future, and that some miracle happened sooner or later. If it didn't, the future would look bleak on all fronts.
She was bored. There was no other way to say it. She went up to her dorm room and went over to the large bay window at one end of the tower room.
She looked down on the Snow War below her before bringing her right hand up and touching a finger to the gold `A' on the ring residing on her left ring finger. She pressed nit sharply. Below her, 249 students flinched at the sudden jolt of magical electricity. Each and every one of them dropped what he or she was doing and snuck inside in groups of five or ten.
In exactly 45 minutes, they were assembled in the Room of Requirement.
It was time to learn some curses…
---~*~---
Astyan did not say anything as he approached the Riders' Wing at a run. He ran into the room, searching for his piers.
He found Mathias and Zorac sitting on the chairs in the main living quarters. He beckoned to them frantically. They set down their things immediately and came over to him.
"What is it?" said Mathias, voicing the concern of the other at the same time.
Astyan hurriedly explained the facts to the other two. Afterward, they nodded and followed him out of the room without a backward glance.
The Sage's voice still rang in Astyan's mind. `Bring them back to us unharmed. Take two or three of the others. I leave you in command. Fare well.'
They arrived at the armoury at a run. The guard nodded to each of them as they passed through the doors. He did not question what they were doing there. He knew each of them for what they were.
Astyan grabbed a heavy cloak, a Long Sword and a few throwing knives. He put each blade into the proper place in the gear belt he took with him, strapping it all over winter gear he took from a shelf. Heavy boots and a woollen tunic as well as his gloves gave him the warmth that he would need in the winter cold. He threw the cloak on and waited for the others. Zorac took the same as he had, and Mathias took a bow in place of knives.
Throwing the hood of the cloak over his head as he went, he led them out of the large armoury and into the corridor beyond. From their, they went down the stairs to the entrance to the spiral staircase and Dragon Hold.
He sent out a single thought to Ashrang waiting above him. Be ready to go as soon as we get there. We have little time.
---~*~---
Eragon was awoken roughly in the middle of the night by one of the Empire's soldiers. When he rose from the floor, the soldier was already gone.
The three of them stood awkwardly and moved into the cold night air. They were met by six armed soldiers and the Ra'zac.
"We are going. Make ready for travel," hissed the taller of the two. He turned to one of the remaining troops who waited beside him. "Break camp. We move as the moon sets."
The soldier nodded and hurried off.
---~*~---
Astyan pressed himself down onto Ashrang's back as they hurtled through the air above the forests of Du Weldenvarden. The landscape passed below them at a reasonable pace. They began their decent.
He could hear the rustles of metal and scale behind him as the other two followed him. The could afford no mistakes now. Their target area was only another four leagues ahead of them. They could only hope that they arrived their in time.
---~*~---
Eragon trudged through the forest, held by two burly guards. His two companions walked dejectedly behind them. Saphira walked behind them, guards holding tightly to the chains around her neck and body.
The sky had cleared of clouds, and the silvery light of the moon cast ethereal shadows onto the forest floor. The stars winked at him through the canopy above them. Mars was rising in the west. It was blood red, and as bright as the moon. It hung on the horizon like a tiny eye of some far away beast.
He heard the hum of wings before anyone else did. Saphira yowled behind her muzzle, twisting her head around in confusion.
Eragon! Wings! There is a Dragon approaching!
The fear was evident in her voice. The only other Dragon that he knew of…belonged to the King.
---~*~---
Dive!
Ashrang obeyed immediately, folding his wings back and plummeting head-first into the forest. At the last moment he snapped back his wings, levelling off and slamming into the ground. He opened his wings and gave a bone jarring roar.
Panic could be seen in the faces of the soldier, but they did not run. The two robed figures came forward slowly, unsure of what was happening. Why, though…
Then it clicked. They didn't know who he was…
He stood and flipped off of Ashrang's back, landing silently on the ground. He turned to face the two Ra'zac, moving his hand casually to the hilt of the sword he had borrowed from the Armoury in Ellesméra. They moved to stand in front of him. He eyed them both coldly, calculatingly.
They gave no orders to their troops. Why? Because they thought he was their King…
He blinked, revealing that his pupils had changed colour. Ice Blue slits looked at the Ra'zac from beneath the hood, seeing through their cloaks at what they truly were. Hideous. They were like vultures, but their shape was that of a human. Clawed, scaly legs protruded from their lower body. Their chests were feathered, as were their arms, which also held a number of spiny things that looked as though they may have once been wings. Their heads, also feathered, comprised mainly of a beak and two, scarlet, feral eyes. Had they once been human? Perhaps, but no matter. It did not complicate things…
An enemy was still an enemy, whether he was human or not.
He sent a thought to his two companions. Land behind them all. Now!
Just as his two companions dived, he caught the attention of the two Ra'zac, who had looked around at the noise.
As he gripped the hilt of his sword beneath his cloak, he said the simplest thing that would get the point across.
"This is not Shruken." (A/N: To those of you who haven't read Eragon yet, Shruken is the name of Galbatorix's Dragon)
Then he brought the sword out in a blur and cleaved the shorter Ra'zac's head from his shoulders. Blood spurted from the stump as the head hit the ground. The corpse hit the ground with a dull thump.
"And I am no King of yours."
The other, taller Ra'zac went for his sword just as Mathias and Zorac, riding their Dragons Lasra and Ozorac, landed. The Ra'zac drew the sword and took a fighter's stance, ready and waiting.
"Free our charges," he yelled to his two companions, "and kill the others!"
Chaos reigned as he swung the sword down in a blurred attack. It was blocked quickly and thrown back. What ensued was a spirited fight between the two, and though the Ra'zac was incredibly strong and fast, and would have beaten any human, he was stronger and faster. Soon he was pushing his opponent back, step by hard fought for step, until the Ra'zac was fighting at the edge of the clearing as he tried to push it back into the tree line.
His two companions were having better luck. The two of them easily overpowered the soldiers one by one. They had already managed to free Saphira of her muzzle, and she was adding her weight to the fight, whose tide was quickly turning in favour of the three attackers.
After a particularly vicious series of attacks, he had pushed the Ra'zac into the trees and down the low hill and onto the flat, rocky outcrop at its base. Looking over the Ra'zac's shoulder, he saw that where the outcrop dropped off was a steep cliff at least two hundred feet high. Hem smiled slightly and began to attack with renewed vigour. The Ra'zac seemed to know it as well, as he, too put all of his energy into the fight. Steel flashed between them, sparks flying when two blurred blades clashed. Suddenly, the Ra'zac let out a screech into the night, still fighting.
To his surprise, he heard an answering screech some way off. Ignoring it, he continued to push the Ra'zac back inch by inch.
The Ra'zac, who seemed to become desperate, let off a series of blows that gained the creature a foot or two. Before Astyan could recover, the Ra'zac had turned and leapt out into space. Astyan ran to the cliff edge and looked over just in time to see the Ra'zac land on the back of a giant bird. The bird, which resembled a giant crow, flew off into the night horizon, soon lost in the darkness.
He turned and trudged back up the hill in time to see his two companions dispatch the last four of the guards. The walked over to the three ex-prisoners and began to untie them.
Astyan turned to the Dragon-Saphira, was it?-who was still chained to the ground, only her head free of the bonds. He raised his right hand and gestured, drawing on his magic and muttering, "Dregas meirto." The chains around her crumbled into dust and vanished. The Dragon stood and came slowly over to her Rider, who stood unsteadily, rubbing the feeling back into his hands and feet. The other two soon followed suit.
The first to stand carried a blood-red sword. That meant that he must be the Rider, Eragon. The other man must then be Murtagh, and the Elf, of course, would be Arya. They were looking at the two who had untied them in what appeared to be a strange mix of curiosity, surprise, and a touch of ill concealed fear. They did not seem to notice that Astyan had come back into the clearing.
The Rider, Eragon, was looking suspiciously at Zorac, who was having trouble refraining from squirming under the gaze.
He finally spoke in a slow, measured voice. "Who are you, Shade?"
Zorac opened his mouth to answer, but Harry, who had been moving stealthily closer behind the three ex-prisoners backs.
"We are your piers, Eragon. Whether we are Demon, Elf, Human, or Dwarf is none of your concern. All that matters is that we are not your enemies."
At the sound of his voice, Eragon and his two companions spun around to face him. Harry lowered his hood, revealing his slitted eyes. Arya's eyes widened slightly, but she said nothing.
Eragon frowned. "Who are you, though, and why are you here?"
"I am Astyan. My companions here are Zorac, and Mathias. We are here on the request of Osthato Chetowä. He asked us to retrieve Eragon, the Rider, Murtagh, the son of Morzan, Arya, Queen Islanzadi's eldest niece, and Saphira, Eragon's Dragon. He asks us to take you all to Ellesméra. When you are there, you will receive your Dragons and/or training."
Eragon and Murtagh shot Arya a look when Harry mentioned her relation to the Elvin ruler, Islanzadi, but all three of them stare when he mentioned the words `Dragons' and `training'.
Eragon opened his mouth to ask another question, but Astyan raised his hand, silencing him.
"Come," he motioned to them. "Retrieve your things and come to the center of the clearing. The Ra'zac I did not manage to kill will be on his way to Urû Baen and the King. We had best be moving."
They did so, getting back swords, knives, and bows, as well as packs and anything else that might be useful.
Eragon rode Saphira with Arya, while Murtagh was given a ride by Mathias's midnight-blue Dragon, Lasra. He sighed as he jumped onto Ashrang's back. It was cold and dark, and it was a two hour ride back to Ellesméra.
---~*~---
Bane looked up at the sky with interest. Magorian and Gedvolai stood next to him. The trees of the Forbidden Forest rustled darkly in the wind. In between the two largest towers of Hogwarts, the Red Planet rose above the horizon.
"Mars is bright tonight…" he said idly. "The brightest it's been for nearly twenty years…"
Magorian nodded. "It begins…"
---~*~---
A/N: Well. That is the long awaited Eighth Chapter. I've decided to keep the Author's Notice up, so this will be in the Chapter 10 slot, as the Prologue is considered Chapter 1, so Chapter 8 would normally be Chapter 9, but is now another ahead and is now 10…
I'm rambling.
Well.
I got a load of that Plot work done, but some is still a ways off from being done, but none of it is urgent. That shouldn't hold up the next chapter. If anything does it'll be writers block. Hopefully, I'll have that chapter out much earlier than this one.
By the way, in response to a reviewer on Portkey.org, I've set up a Yahoo! Group for this fic, where I have the Chapters posted and everything. I can also be used for a message board and polling place. Everyone who wants to join must be a Yahoo! Member (If you aren't already, become one. It's easy and you don't have to get an email address. Everything that goes through there can be rerouted to your existing email address.). I will be sending out Yahoo! Invite Emails to everyone I got an email address from in the next day or so. Anyone who hasn't gotten one by Saturday, January 22, can contact me for a URL via email. My address is posted on my Author Profile on both Portkey.org and Fanfiction.net.
If you have any Questions or Comments, please review and I'll get back to you somehow.
Regards,
SilverDagger
This Chapter Was Last Modified On - [Monday, January 17, 2005]
Number Of Words In This Chapter - [7,403]
-->