Reverence

by DaedricPrinceSheogorath

A Rider's' Recollections (Part two)

Author's Note:

Sorry it took so long. Stuff happens you know.

The memories Eragon is having are from the when he first comes to Dras-Leona to the end of the book.
As always please alert me to any mistakes in the story, I wish to be as correct as humanly possible. Ive decided to wait to do the next book for a little while. I want to go ahead and "connect" the two verses completely.
I also dont want to spoil the entire plot of the books so Im not doing all of book one and I may even not do the others. If you want to further understand the verse you'll just have to read the books yourself

Pronunciation notes-
Eragon- (EHR-uh-gahn)
Saphira- (suh-FEAR-uh)
Hermaen- (her-main)
Gardezin- (guard-ahn-sin)
Dras-Leona- (DRAHS-lee-OH-nuh)
Murtagh- (MUR-tag)
Gil'ead- (GILL-ee-id)
Durza- (dur-zah)

Translation Notes-
Jierda- break; hit

New Carvahall- 3rd P.O.V

Eragon enjoyed the story well enough, though much of it seemed exaggerated.

Blödhgarm looked to Eragon. "Would you care to share a story Shadeslayer?"

Eragon sat back and thought for a moment. "I may have one...this is the story my uncle Garrow told my brother Roran and I when we were very young. It's the story of a hunter of the Spine from before the fall of the riders." Eragon paused for a moment as he recalled the story.

"Hermaen was a hunter who lived deep within the Spine, at its heart. Hermaen was a gifted hunter, said to have no equal, for he could fire an arrow from any distance and hit his mark. One day Hermaen went out for his hunt, when he found a white stag. He pulled out his bow and took out an arrow from the quiver and notched it onto the string. Hermaen released the arrow, but it missed, or rather was deflected, a magical barrier had enveloped the stag, who looked at Hermaen. The stag approached Hermaen, who was in shock and was unable to move. The stag spoke to Hermaen, the stag actually congratulated him, for if it wasn't for the spell, it surely would have died. No hunter had been able to loose an arrow that could have killed it before. The stag glowed and changed shape to a tall man covered in various furs, on his head was the skull of a deer, and he wore a necklace of various animal bones. The man smiled at Hermaen, he said "I am Gardezin, god of the hunt. I congragulate you hunter for your ability." The god reached to a pine and pressed his hand upon it, the tree changed shape until in its place was a beautiful long bow. "I bestow upon you this bow, it is a bow that requires no arrow or string to be loosed. All you need is the desire to loose an arrow from it, and one shall be." The god handed Hermaen the bow. Hermaen took the bow and bowed to the god. The god transformed back into a stag and disappeared into a brush."

Eragon finished his story and looked around, Blödhgarm seemed rather unimpressed.

"That's...an interesting story Shadeslayer."

"Not up to expectations I take it? Well, I've likely forgotten parts to it, Garrow himself always said there was a second part, but he had forgotten it. It's likely why you don't much care for it." Eragon said a bit rudely

Blödhgarm simply shrugged, as if to say it mattered not one way or the other.

Blödhgarm and the others continued telling their tales while Eragon's mind began to wonder as it often seemed to do now, to his first entrance into the awful city of Dras-Leona, his first meeting with Mutagh, and his joining the Varden.

At Dras-Leona's enormous gates, they led the horses through the crush of people. Ten soldiers were stationed on either side of the gates, casually scanning the crowd. Eragon and Brom passed into the city without incident.

The houses inside the city wall were tall and thin to compensate for the lack of space. Those next to the wall were braced against it. Most of the houses hung over the narrow, winding streets, covering the sky so it was hard to tell if it was day or night. Nearly all the buildings were constructed out of the same rough brown wood, which darkend the city even more. The air reeked like a sewer; the streets were filthy.

A group of ragged children ran between the houses, fighting over scraps of bread. Deformed beggars crouched next to the entrance gates, pleading for money. Their cries for help were like a chorus of the damned. We don't even treat animals like this.

Just thinking of the wretched city nearly caused Eragon to throw-up. He quickly pushed the thoughts of the place from the forefront of his mind. Eragon instead thought a bit about being saved from surprise attack by the Ra'zac and his meeting his half brother, Murtagh.

For a long while, Eragon was aware of only the burning in his side. Each breath was painful. It felt as though he had been stabbed, not Brom. His sense of time was skewed; it was hard to tell if weeks had gone by, or only a few minutes. When consciousness finally came to him, he opened his eyes and peered curiously at a campfire several feet away. His hands were still tied together, but the drug must have worn off because he could think clearly again. Saphira are you injured?

No, but you and Brom are. She was crouched over Eragon, wings spread protectively on either side.

Saphira, you didn't make that fire, did you? And you couldn't have gotten out of those chains by yourself.

No.

I didn't think so. Eragon struggled to his knees and saw a young man sitting on the far right side of the fire.

The stranger, dressed in battered clothes,exuded a calm, assured air. In his hands was a bow, at his side a long hand-and-a-half sword. A white horn bounded with silver fittings lay in his lap, and the hilt of a dagger protruded from his boot. He appeared serious face and fierce eyes were framed by brown locks of hair. He appeared to be a few years older than Eragon and perhaps an inch or so taller. Behind him a gray war-horse was picketed. The stranger watched Saphira warily.

"Who are you?" asked Eragon, taking a shallow breath.

The man's hands tightened on the bow. "Murtagh." His voice was low and controlled, but curiously emotional.

Eragon pulled his hands underneath his legs so they were infront of him. He clenched his teeth as his side flared with pain. "Why did you help up?"

"You aren't the only enemies the Ra'zac have. I was tracking them."

"You know what they are?"

"Yes."

Eragon concentrated on the ropes that bound his wrists and reached for the magic. He hesitated, aware of Murtagh's eyes watching him, then he decided it didn't matter. "Jierda!" he grunted. The ropes snapped off his wrists. He rubbed his hands to get the blood flowing.

Murtagh sucked his breath. Eragon braced himself and tried to stand, but his ribs seared with agony. He fell back, gasping between clenched teeth. Murtagh tried to come to his aid, but Saphira stopped him with a growl. "I would have helped you earlier but your dragon wouldn't let me near you."

"Her name's Saphira," Now let him by! I can't do this alone. Besides, he saved our lives. Saphira growled again, but folded her wings and backed away. Murtagh eyed her flatly as he stepped forward.

He grasped Eragon's arm, gently pulling him to his feet. Eragon yelped and would have fallen if not without support. They went to the fire, where Brom laid on his back. "How is he?" asked Eragon.

"Bad," said Murtagh, lowering to the ground. "The knife went right through his ribs. You can look at him in a minute, but first we better see how much damage the Ra'zac did to you." He helped Eragon remove his shirt, then whistled "Ouch!"

"Ouch," agreed Eragon weakly. A blotchy red bruise extended down his left side. The red, swollen skin was broken in several places. Murtagh put a hand on the bruise and pressed lightly. Eragon yelled, and Saphira growled a warning.

Murtagh glanced at Saphira as he grabbed a blanket. "I think you have some broken ribs. It's hard to tell, but its at least two, maybe more. You're lucky your not coughing up blood." He tore the blanket into strips and bound Eragon's chest.

Eragon chuckled a bit at how his first meeting with him was him getting patched up. Oh how ironic later times would be to that. Eragon then thought of Brom, he died that night. He however refused to think of it. It was still too emotional for him. He teared up a little but wiped it away. Eragon thought next of his capture at Gil'Ead and his meeting of Arya.

Murtagh and him had arrived early into Gil'ead. The irony was Murtagh said to keep his head down, Murtagh was basically why they were captured to begin with. Someone Murtagh knew with a loud mouth had seen him. Things didn't go that well on that day.

The first things Eragon noticed were that he was warm and dry, his cheek was pressed against rough fabric, and hiis hands were unbound. He stirred, but it was minutes before he managed to push himself upright and examined his surroundings.

He was sitting in a cell on a narrow, bumpy cot. A barred window was set high in the wall. The iron-bound door with a small window in its top half, was shut securely.

Dried blood cracked on Eragon's face when he moved. It took him a minute to remember it was not his. His head hurt horribly-which was to be expected, considering the blow he had taken-and his mind was strangely fuzzy. He tried to use magic, but could not concentrate well enough on any of the words. They must have drugged me, he finally declared.

With a groan he got up, missing the familiar weight of Zar'roc on his hip, and lurched to the window in the wall.

Eragon's memory gets a bit hazy there, he remembered his conversation with the Shade, Durza. His escape from the prison with Murtagh and Arya and their continuation of the journey to the Varden. Of course many other things occured but Eragon could hear someone call him. It wasn't time to reminesce of the past. It was time to look to the future.

"Eragon, come help us with this, we are setting up the rest of the buildings." Eragon looked over, Blödhgarm, Saphira, and the other elves were already setting up the basis of a town. It honestly didn't surprise him. They would need at least several buildings to completely take care of the dragons. None of them would be rider dragons. Those eggs were left with Nasuada, Arya, Orik, and Nar Garzhvog. Eragon walked over and picked up a board and carried it over to one of the structures. One of the elves, Rayna, showed him all the plans the had drawn out. Eragon nodded and placed the board, and hammered it down. This cycle continued for all the buildings for several hours, by the time they finished, three small houses were finished, six houses were half-way done, nine houses had atleast a base, only two were yet to be worked on, a storage facility was built, Saphira created glass for a green house out of the sand and her firey breath, and a library, medical shack, as well as a animal pen were finished. None of the structures were in anyway impressive. All were incredibly simple and brown. Eragon sighed. They had been here two days and already built an entire town almost. He could easily guess they would be finished by tommorow afternoon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Vanhoover Train Station 3rd P.O.V- Twilight Sparkle

"Ah, here we are girls! Vahoover." The town was quiet and a little sleepy, though considering how far north it was, she wasn't the least surprised. Besides she read half a dozen books on Vanhoover on the train ride alone!

Applejack got off and yawned "Well now, that was a good nap. So this is Vanhoover huh? A little cold ain't it?" she shivered.

Pinkie bounded out next "Well of course you silly willy! This is VANHOOVER! Its like...the snow capital of Equestria hehe!" Pinkie then plowed into the nearest snow bank. Rainbow Dash then smiled and got off the train looking around a bit followed closely by Rarity and Fluttershy.

Twilight looked at her friends for a moment "Well girls, we are here. Lets go investigate!" Pinkie jumped fforward wearing a detectives out fit and a fake mustache "Detective Pie is on the case!" She bounded towards the site. Twilight and the rest proceeded to follow behind Pinkie.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Deepest Part of Tartarus- Unknown

"Has he finished pieicing his mind back together yet?"

"Yes milord, he shows brain activity on the scanners as of ten minutes ago."

The tall hooded figure nodded. "Then it is time." He walked to a cell and opened it. A shape was under several layers of sheets, who or what is was, could not be distingushed. The hooded figure spoke a name, a name of pure power which all magic obeys the speaker of no matter what.

The hooded figure laughed "You are mine now, a slave to my will. Never forget that!" He walked out of the cell and closed it firmly. His plans were nearly ready to be inacted. Only a few pieces had yet to be put together now. "Gilland! How are the final pieces coming?"

The other, smaller figure approached "Quite well my king, quite well. They should be done with in a week if there is no delays in the creation process."

"And what about...it?"

"It is finished your highness. All is left is your power."

"Good. I need one again if my plan is to have any success after all. Let us go greet it." A loud bellowing roar rang throughout the prison as if to already greet the figure was heard. The hooded figure fazed through a wall and disappeared without a trace.

Comments

[The_Filthy_Casual]

I may be a bit late catching up to this one, but anyway, it's good to see you back, and it looks like things are ramping up.

I have a terrible suspicion about the mysterious evil in Tartarus. Galbatorix would be like a slap in the face to Eragon...not to mention if he's still on his 'governing magic' shtick.

In brighter news I can't wait for Twilight and company to meet up with their new guests.

Keep writing my friend. I'll keep reading for sure.

[DaedricPrinceSheogorath]

5763385 On your theory....no comment

[bobtail]

"And what about...it?"
"It is finished your highness. All is left is your power."

Stupid pronoun games!