Adult-FanFiction.org : Books

The Last Scion
By : RotSeele
Category: A through F > Eragon
Views: 5098 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Eragon. I do not make any money from this story.
Chapter List
- 23
- 24
- 25
A Battleground of Our Choosing

Murtagh stood beside Nasuada as they watched the wide field before them transform into one giant trap. The Varden had set out for Urû’baen, taking cities as they went. Many villages surrendered before the army had even crested the horizons and the ranks swelled. Many had heard of the miraculous resurrection of Murtagh, and some who joined the Varden were those Murtagh had helped before he’d even become a Rider. Now, though, the Varden and its allies worked to make a battlefield that suited them, for in three days a massive army of the Empire’s would be upon them.

“Will it work?” Nasuada asked.

“I would estimate half our traps will work.” Murtagh answered honestly. “The rest’ll be up to the soldiers and us.”

Nasuada looked at Murtagh and nodded slightly. “And you’re serious about the aftermath of this war?”

“I’ve no love for ruling.” Murtagh sighed. “All I want to do is live in peace, to come to your aid when I’m needed. I’ll usher in a new generation of Riders with Eragon’s help, so being a king is the last thing on my mind.”

“Besides,” spoke Assan as he approached the pair, “your calling is one of much more importance than that of a king.”

Murtagh smirked. “True. Did you need me?”

“I was sent to find you. Hatori requests your presence.”

Murtagh looked to Nasuada and excused himself, following Assan down to where Hatori had set up her tent. The pair entered the tent and found they weren’t the only ones there. Elva and Saïle were there, along with Katrina and Roran with their daughter. Hatori stood in the center of the tent, dressed in the To-Ga-Ir equivalent of armour.

“You asked for me?” Murtagh spoke softly.

Hatori turned to face him. “With my – our – father dead, it falls to us to bless our family for this war.”

“Eragon’s not here.”

“He declined.” Katrina said, almost disapprovingly. “Let him be.”

Roran shook his head. “He’s still sore at you.”

Murtagh sighed and shrugged. “What do we do, Hatori?”

The young woman smiled and produced long red feathers, the same as the one Murtagh wore in his hair now. Whispering in his ear, Hatori told him what she wanted and he took the feathers as she began to sing lightly. It was over before it’d even really begun, and Murtagh was left with two red feathers in his hand. Hatori hugged him tight and Murtagh returned the gesture. Both Saïle and Elva hugged him before they left, then Katrina, Roran, and Assan. Murtagh stepped back from Hatori and forced her to look at him.

“We’ll survive.” He told her. “We’ll see the dawn of a new world.”

“I trust you.” Hatori wiped her eyes and took a breath. “Go now. I’ll be fine.”

Murtagh nodded and left Hatori alone, moving to walk with Assan. He twirled the red feathers in his hold and wondered what he was going to do with them. He and Assan came across Arya and Eragon soon enough and Murtagh sighed.

“Even if you don’t consider him your brother, you’ll be working with him.” Assan sighed. “Perhaps, before this battle, you should make nice.”

“Wait for me.”

Assan nodded and held his ground as Murtagh stepped toward Arya and Eragon. What was said Assan couldn’t hear, but Eragon seemed to be a bit more humble and reasonable, and Arya too didn’t seem so haughty. Murtagh offered the feathers then, and it was Arya who took them, smiling just a little. Murtagh returned to Assan and sighed. He wouldn’t explain the conversation and Assan didn’t ask him to. Time was too short to entertain petty hatreds.

Saphira found Thorn laying in the shade of the lone three in the Varden’s camp, his head on his paws, his eyes closed. She moved closer and settled beside him, watching the crimson-scaled leviathan.

-Are you afraid?- Thorn asked her.

Saphira blinked. -Should I not be?-

-I’d worry if you weren’t.-

Saphira gazed at Thorn and her heart warmed. He lay there so still, trusting her, for if she had the mind to, she could easily kill him. Instead, she settled into a crouch beside him and turned her gaze to the sky. -The field is almost ready.
Then our war will come soon enough. In a few hours, perhaps, or early dawn.-

-The scouts say the enemy is still many days away.-

Thorn snorted. -The enemy attacks on two occasions: when they’re ready for you and when you’re not ready for them. We must be vigilant at all times.-

Saphira blinked and watched Thorn rise. Saphira couldn’t hope to reach Thorn’s size – a good twenty-four feet tall. Saphira herself was nearing twenty-one feet and she could feel she would stop growing soon. She measured herself proudly, though, for as big as Thorn was, she could easily best him if she had a mind to. But she was no longer his enemy, rather his friend and growing closer. She wondered for a long moment if Thorn would become her mate with how close they were becoming but put the thought from her head. Now wasn’t the time to be thinking about such things.

-I’d be honoured, though.-

Saphira’s attention jerked to the red dragon beside her. -What?-

Thorn chuckled. -You were thinking aloud. I’d be honoured if you chose me as your mate.-

-Why?-

-Who could ask for a better one? You’re strong and wise, playful and caring.- Thorn shrugged his shoulders. -You’ll be the light of our entire race.-

-And you would shine beside me?- Saphira asked, her tone both serious and curious.

-Hardly shine. None could outshine you, Blue Sister.- Thorn swung his head to look at her and he smiled as well as a dragon could. -But we have time yet before that happens.-

Saphira blinked and nodded almost numbly. She watched Thorn move away from his shady tree and followed once she got her wits about her again, pushing thoughts of mating far from her mind. Now wasn’t the time for those thoughts and besides, more important things were about to take place. This was a battle in a series of final battles and she wouldn’t fail. Saphira gazed at Thorn and silently promised him she wouldn’t fail him or the green that remained in his egg. She’d see her youngest nest-mate free before the end and she’d make it so no dragon could ever be enslaved again. Saphira promised.

She swore.

The mighty dragoness spent the calm of the evening by herself, sorting out her thoughts and only half-listening to Eragon. The boy was confused and rightly so, for everything he’d planned had been quite literally ripped from him. Saphira was certain, though, Murtagh wouldn’t become a tyrant like Galbatorix, and she could feel the older Rider was only trying to protect those dearest to him by keeping the truth hidden. Thorn hadn’t told her either, but she knew he would when it was time. One thing at a time, Saphira told herself.

Two whole days passed in peace but the Varden and its allies weren’t idle. Weapons were forged, shields made, arrows carved and fletched, and even Saphira and Thorn were outfitted with new armour. Saphira now wore the same ring-mail armour Thorn did, tinted blue to distinguish them. She felt so light as she flew, but knew, as she and Thorn practiced a battle in the air, it was stronger than her old armour. The civilians were soon fleeing what would become the battleground under a guard of the swiftest To-Ga-Ir and Urgals, and all knew war would soon be upon them.

Murtagh and Eragon approached their dragons, and Thorn lowered his snout to Murtagh’s hands. Saphira did the same for Eragon.

-Did you work out your differences?- She asked her troubled Rider.

“We did.” Eragon replied, looking to his half-brother. “Didn’t we?”

“We decided that I would head the Riders,” Murtagh started, “and Eragon would rebuild the Dragons. Together, we’ll train a new generation as it was supposed to be.”

“We also decided dragons would decide the affairs of dragons and Riders would decide the affairs of Riders.” Eragon continued. “We don’t want another Galbatorix rising, so if a dragon chooses to partner with a second Rider, it’s their choice.”

-As it should’ve been.- Thorn said in a stern tone. -Though it doesn’t absolve Galbatorix of his treacherous decisions.-

-We’ll mete out that justice.- Saphira added. -He’ll never again terrorize Alagaësia when I’m through with him.-

“So you two agree then?” Eragon asked.

-We agree.- The two dragons said together.

Eragon looked at Murtagh – the head Rider of their order – and smiled. Murtagh returned the smile and moved to mount Thorn, settling in the silver and black saddle that denoted his station. Eragon swung up into his own saddle as well and moved to follow Murtagh as Thorn began to walk toward their take-off point on a cliff overlooking the battlefield. Hidden down there were the Kull, the fiercest warriors of the Urgals, and the To-Ga-Ir riders. Above in hidden niches were the archers, groups of five spaced randomly apart. On the high ground and in plain sight were the mounted spearmen, behind them the foot soldiers of all the races. The stout dwarves were underground, waiting for the signal from the two Riders, and the spell-casters of the Du Vrangr Gata, dwarves, and To-Ga-Ir stood hidden with the archers, ready for their role.

Everything was planned perfectly down to the smallest of movements. But Eragon knew this trick would only work this one time, so they’d have to come up with something else when the time came.

“Don’t be afraid.” He heard Murtagh say. Though the man was whispering, Eragon could hear him as if he’d yelled. “Though some of us will die this way, those deaths won’t be in vain. We don’t fight for glory or for ruin; we fight for Alagaësia and all who live here. We fight for a world were no one lives in fear. Give all you’ve got.”

Eragon swallowed. “We’re simply the Riders. We’re the guardians, but you’re the caretakers. Without you, there is no Alagaësia.” He looked upon the small figures on the battlefield and knew they, too, could hear him. “Today is only one battle, tomorrow will bring another. But we will win. We’ll see a new dawn.”

“Fight now for what you love.” The Riders finished together.

A horn sounded and the field soon darkened with a horde of the Empire’s soldiers. They saw the waiting host of the Varden and charged. As if on cue, the sky darkened with arrows, cutting down those unlucky enough to be caught without cover. Then came the offensive spells and suddenly it all stopped. Then Thorn let out a tremendous roar, echoed by Saphira. Before the Empire could organize, the ground beneath their feet crumbled and the dwarves began their assault. To add to the confusion, Nasuada and Hatori sounded their charges and down came the Varden and the To-Ga-Ir. Arrows and spells continued to rain down, each individual ally protected by an assortment of shielding spells.

Thorn spread his wings and launched from the cliffside, quickly followed by Saphira. Down, down he dove and at the last moment snapped out his wings and fell into a barrel roll, shooting through the Empire soldiers. Both dragons knew their roles, Saphira swinging toward the Varden’s charge and unleashing her devastating fire as Thorn swung toward the To-Ga-Ir and did the same thing. The field was chaos; the allies were moving in orchestrated perfection as the Empire fought to regain their lost momentum.

Saphira rose up high enough for Eragon to put his bow to use, emptying his first quiver and reducing his second to half. He and Murtagh were in perfect harmony, communicating with one another and letting their dragons choose their maneuvers. The battle was immediately in the Varden’s favour, though many dead and wounded littered the field. The Empire’s forces didn’t retreat though, instead gathering those that still lived, mostly the Immortal forces, and focused their attacks.

On Saphira.

-Spell-casters!- Thorn roared. -Guard yourselves!- He banked to avoid a fireball and unleashed his own upon the group that had concealed themselves behind a spell of invisibility. His fireball broke upon the shield, but it disrupted their spellcasting and allowed several Urgals to fall upon them. Unfortunately, they were able to cast one spell before the last of them died, a bolt of lightning racing for Saphira.

The great female dragon let out a roar of pain as electricity snapped around her and she began a swift descent not of her choosing. Thorn raced for her, knowing he was too far away to do any good. He let out a roar of anger as Saphira hit the ground and unleashed his fire to protect her. He had to stop, though, and climb into the air, for another group of sorcerers had revealed themselves. Torn, the dragon chose to combat the spell-casters. Saphira and Eragon were on their own.

Eragon pulled himself from the saddle and dropped heavily to the dirt, nerves still jumping with the shock of electricity. -Saphira!- He called. -Are you alright?-

-I am.- Saphira slowly picked herself up, tail lashing to keep enemies at bay. -I don’t think I can fly.-

Eragon glanced at her wings as he drew Brisingr and cursed. Her right wing was broken, and her left was bruised. She couldn’t get in the air, but she couldn’t stay on the ground. Murtagh was too far away to help them and he was busy protecting the To-Ga-Ir and Urgals who fought with the spell-casters.

Eragon made his decision.

He cast the healing spell while fending off those who’d do them arm and felt Saphira’s relief that the pain was gone. -Fly, Saphira! Take to the sky!-

Saphira snarled. -Not without you!-

-You don’t have a choice!- Eragon yelled back at her. -I can hide easily down here, you can’t! Protect me from the sky, just like Thorn showed you!-

-Stupid boy! If you get hurt, I’ll nip you!- Saphira snarled, and tamped down her hind legs. She clawed at the air, getting aloft and unleashing her fire.

Eragon blocked an attack for his side and spun, Brisingr breaking free and cutting down his enemy. To him, these men were far too slow, and he grew confident he could beat them easily. They couldn’t hold a candle to his sparring partner Vanir, nor could they match Murtagh, who combined so many styles of fighting it was impossible to predict his movements. Around him, the Varden moved to defend him, chaos now enveloping the defenders. Still, they fought with their units as one instead of individually and perhaps it was that which saved them. Eragon ducked under a side chip and rammed Brisingr into the soldier’s chest. The blade caught on the dead man’s ribs and wouldn’t come free.

Eragon looked up to see an axe coming his way and threw himself away from his sword. The axe swung harmlessly by, but it’d done what its owner had wanted. Eragon stumbled over the body of a fallen dwarf and crashed hard on his back, leaving him prone and open to attack. An Immortal loomed over him, the man’s face twisted in a perverse leer. Eragon backed up, tried to get to his feet but slipped in a puddle of blood and went back down. Around him, the fighting was on in full and no one was coming to aid him.

-Saphira!-

-I’m trying, Eragon! Where are you?!-

Eragon couldn’t answer. He rolled to avoid the downward chip and got to his knees. The poor Rider couldn’t his feet under him in time, though, and had to fall onto his back to avoid decapitation.

-Eragon!-

Eragon stared up into the hate-filled eyes of the Immortal and knew, this time, there was no escape.
- 23
- 24
- 25
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Last Scion	By : RotSeele Category: A through F > Eragon Views: 5098 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Eragon. I do not make any money from this story.

The Last Scion