For Alagaesia: 79. A golden act

‘It isn’t over Eragon! Not yet! Take my strength. You promised me that we won’t take defeat lying down,’ Saphira’s renewed plea rang in his mind. Amidst the torrent of pain caused by the crushing of his bones by the air - rivalled only by the pain he had felt in the dungeons of Uru’baen when Galbatorix used Elva to gain access into his mind - Eragon somehow managed to respond to his dragon.

He reached out to Brisingr that lay on the floor with his hand willing it to come to him. His mind worked wordless magic and his blue sword came flying to his outstretched hand.

Without him causing it to, Brisingr caught fire as soon as it reached his hand. The sight of his flaming sword gave him confidence. With it, he could win over anything. He delved deep into Saphira’s mind accessing her immensely vast store of energy. Then, ignoring the crack of his rib as he stretched his arms, Eragon hurled Brisingr at Galbatorix, with all the speed he could muster. As soon as the sword left his hand, he slumped unable to fight the pain any longer.

Eragon watched with awe, through Saphira’s eyes, as Brisingr flew like a blue lightning bolt, straight towards the king’s heart. If Galbatorix's dilated pupils were any indication, he was acutely aware that his life was at peril.

Driven by instinct, the king brought his black sword down in the path of Brisingr with a speed even elves would be hard pressed to attain. The force of the impact of the two blades was so great that the gleaming black sword was knocked away from Galbatorix’s hand. But the impact deflected Brisingr off its trajectory. Eragon's sword, instead of finding its way into Galbatorix's heart, grazed his left arm and flew towards the magical wall made by the black king.

Having failed to end the tyrant despite giving his best, Eragon fell into the inviting arms of death, which promised him relief from the agony that his life had become. He was about to go into permanent sleep when an explosion rudely brought him back to the world of living.

He lifted his head off of Saphira’s neck just in time to witness the worst nightmare of his life. The magical wall built by Galbatorix fell apart in a million pieces revealing a proud green dragon and a beautiful warrior riding him. Eragon wished with every fibre of his being that he was just hallucinating even though he could feel the concerned mind of Indra pressing against his. They can’t be here. She promised Glaedr that they would stay in Ellesmera.

With the wall broken - either by the force with which Brisingr crashed against it or by the efforts of Arya - Eragon felt the air loosen around him. Even a man as powerful as Galbatorix could not control the vast amount of air in the open ground. Involuntarily, he heaved a sigh of relief and immediately regretted doing so as his broken ribs sent waves of pain to his brain and blood splattered onto his already bloodied tunic from his mouth.

Galbatorix looked confused for a moment having been unprepared for the sudden onslaught of events against his whims. He looked like a man who had escaped death by a hair’s breadth, which of course was true. If he had even delayed bringing his sword down by a microsecond, Brisingr would have punctured his heart.

The black clad elven princess surveyed the scene before her like a hawk. The pain that crossed her face when she took in his bloodied state hurt Eragon. He simply did not want her to feel any pain. But another part of his love-struck heart screamed for joy. After nearly three weeks of being ignored and scoffed at by her, he saw that she did care for him.

“What did you do to him?” Arya almost yelled at Galbatorix, brandishing Shantiyastra above her head. Just to hear the worry reflected in those words - worry for him - Eragon would go through the torture of near death experience at Galbatorix’s hands a thousand times.

Having recovered from his confusion, the king seemed to prepare to cast another spell. Sensing the danger in letting the king go on with whatever cruelty he was planning for Indra, Saphira roared and made her way towards Shruikan. As they had expected, Galbatorix’s attention was diverted towards them giving Arya the chance to catch him unaware.

The elven princess was only too glad to take the opportunity. Indra beat his wings twice and shot forward towards Shruikan even as Galbatorix raised his hand at Eragon. Eragon watched with bated breath - not that he was able to breath properly anyway; every breath he took was an exercise in agony - as Arya raised Shantiyastra behind her head as she neared Galbatorix.

Just when he thought that the chapter of Galbatorix was closed in Alagaesia’s history - for the fourth time during that night - the king found a way to wriggle out of death’s grip. As it turned out, the same speed that allowed Galbatorix to block Brisingr helped him to sway away from the path of Shantiyastra. Arya’s powerful sword cut away a few scales from Shruikan’s torso making the black dragon let out an agonised roar and back away from Indra.

Galbatorix cursed Shruikan as if it was the dragon’s fault that Shantiyastra could cut through every ward he had placed around the dragon. As much as the king loved abusing Shruikan, it was the dragon’s actions that gave Galbatorix the precious time he needed to get his fallen sword back in his possession.

Right after he got his sword, the king’s eyes fell on Brisingr that lay on the floor beside Shruikan. Eragon knew instantly what the king planned. He had heard of the hundreds of lost rider swords and he now knew where those went. Galbatorix had taken them away to symbolise his dominance over the owners of those swords. Too tired to fight for the possession of Brisingr, Eragon waited for it to be taken away by Galbatorix. But before the king could cast the spell to pull Brisingr to him, Arya raised her hand towards it and the blue sword flew into her hand without her uttering a single word.

“Interesting,” Galbatorix observed as if he found Arya’s action amusing. She ignored him and said to Saphira, “Take him to the healers.”

“Oh. no! He is not going anywhere, are you Eragon?” Galbatorix mocked and murmured “Letta” freezing Saphira and Eragon in place.

“You needed me and I am here. Let him go,” Arya said quietly although her voice trembled in anger.

“You elves! You always attach too much importance to yourself. Whoever told I needed you, my dear? All I have to do with you is to kill you.” Galbatorix said, an annoyed look on his face. But the annoyance was replaced by amusement when his eyes fell on Shantiyastra. “Ah, now I understand how you could withstand that heartless bastard Durza’s handling. Of course, you would. If not you then who, eh, Drottningu?”

Fear flitted through Arya’s eyes before she hid it behind a veil of impassiveness. She had kept her lineage from even the Varden and yet here she was being exposed by the dark king in a matter of seconds.

Galbatorix unstrapped himself from Shruikan and jumped down on the floating platform all the while smiling broadly at Arya who watched him warily. Elva, who had over the course of the demanding pain filled encounter fallen unconscious, remained on Shruikan.

Once the king was firmly on the floor, he turned around and waved at Eragon. Then he looked at Arya and asked, “Well, won’t you join me on the ground Drottningu?”

Eragon wanted to scream to Indra to just fly away when he had the chance but Galbatorix’s spell had tied even his tongue and he knew the danger of trying to contact his loved ones mentally. And so he and Saphira remained mute spectators to the game Galbatorix was playing with Arya and Indra’s lives.

Indra did just the opposite of what Eragon wanted him to. He rushed forward, eager to stamp Galbatorix like a fly beneath his foot. But the king was much too fast for Indra. He dived away from Indra and screamed, “Letta” stopping Indra on his tracks.

“Free him. Now.” Arya said accentuating each syllable dangerously.

“It was him who attacked me first, Drottningu!” Galbatorix feigned innocence.

Seeing Indra tied to one spot like a statue, Saphira lost what little control she had on her senses. She tried to break free of Galbatorix’s bonds with every bit of life she had in her body and help Indra. Eragon, already drowsy from the loss of blood, could not be as rash as Saphira was. His body would not allow it of him and so he acted a little more logically.

He tried contacting Glaedr for help. But the golden dragon was too engrossed in his battle with his brethren that he barely paid attention to the physical world. Having failed to gain his master’s attention even after trying so hard, Eragon urged Saphira to try and explain Glaedr about the dire situation they were in.

Seeing no way to escape than to follow Galbatorix’s whims, Arya got down from Indra’s back patting him as she walked towards Galbatorix.

“Don’t worry. He will be alright, drottningu.” Galbatorix consoled as if to a friend.

The already sharp eyes of Arya took on a rather terrifying look sending shivers down Eragon’s spine. He had never seen her being so angry on anything. She did not wait for Galbatorix to strike first like she always did when measuring up a foe before battle.

Rather, she went for Galbatorix’s throat like a hungry lioness pouncing on her prey. Having provoked Arya, Galbatorix was ready for the onslaught. He brought his black sword up to defend his head with utter surety in his skills. Metal met with metal and the clang reverberated all through the skies.

Arya was not daunted by the speed that the king displayed. She fought with abandon, often times leaving herself defenseless focussing solely on chopping Galbatorix’s head from his torso. Her aggression kept Galbatorix on the backfoot never giving him much opportunity to use her weakened defenses against her.

Sweat gathered on her brows as she fought, ignoring the various cuts Galbatorix dealt her with. With time, it seemed that she grew faster matching even the king in speed. Such was the display of her swordsmanship that Eragon doubted the reality of the times he had disarmed her.

Galbatorix seemed to grow frustrated as Arya matched him strike for strike making up for her lower speed with her superior skill. He swiped at Arya wildly hoping to connect with her gut. She jumped back out of reach of Galbatorix’s sword and used her toes to spring forward when Galbatorix madly followed her, his sword held in front of him. Arya sailed over the king when he lost footing seeing her dive towards him and landed right behind him.

Without wasting even a second she turned around skillfully and tried to stab Galbatorix on the back. But the king was much too fast. He turned around in time and tried to swat Shantiyastra away from his gut. Arya, having gone through similar motions several times during this confrontation, smartly stopped short of going all the way to his gut and have her sword pushed away again. Instead she changed tack in the last second to create a swishing motion with her sword.

It worked to an extent as Shantiyastra cut open the king’s chest. But Galbatorix’s enhanced speed helped him avoid serious injury. Being thoroughly beaten by the elven princess, Galbatorix swung his sword at her chest in anger without thought. Being so near to Galbatorix, Arya ducked under the line of the black sword and grabbed the king’s wrist. Before he had time to react, she twisted his wrist making him scream in pain and lose control of his sword. Not stopping there she dove around the king’s broken hand and tried to bring Shantiyastra to his throat from behind him.

Just when she was about to slit the king’s throat, he yelled, “Letta!” stopping her movements. That coward! He had used magic when he knew his defeat was sealed. 

Arya’s hands remained wrapped around Galbatorix's neck which she had tried to chop off. The king seemed to mock her as he caressed her hand and murmured, “Hmm... So soft. Wonder where all that power comes from.” He then proceeded to lean into Arya, smelling her. “The beauty of the elves! For once, the bards have restrained from exaggerating,” he whispered just loud enough for Eragon to hear.

Eragon could not bear the fact that he could do nothing to save Arya from the mockery and violations she was subjected to. A rage that could only be likened to a roiling hurricane built up in him with every sly word Galbatorix cast at Arya’s expense and every unwanted touch he subjected her to, wanting nothing but to chop the usurper into a million pieces. His nerves bulged out as he struggled to break free of the bonds tying him in place. Blood poured out from his broken ribs threatening his consciousness. But he cared not. What was his life worth if he could not help his beloved when she needed him the most?

But for all the struggles, he could not even twitch his fingers. Defeated and ashamed at himself, he looked into Arya’s eyes hoping that she would have a way out of this quagmire they were caught in. What he found in those deep emerald orbs hurt him. Not since the day when Indra chose her to be his companion had she looked so vulnerable. It wasn’t the open fear she displayed that affected him as much as the accusatory look in them when she met his eyes.

“Your beauty and charms aside, do you know of the help you rendered in my rightful ascend to the throne of Alagaesia?” Galbatorix asked, as he walked around Arya having ducked out of her hold. “The celebrations that followed your birth gave Morzan the time to steal this overgrown lizard from Uru’baen sealing my place as the first rider to have chosen his dragon. It is the right way, you know... the dragons are lowly creatures that need to be controlled for a better world for the rest of us.”

Eragon seethed hearing the insult on Saphira and her brethren. But just as with Arya he could do nothing but watch silently as Galbatorix insulted the entire dragon race upon whose strength he had built his empire. How could a man be so twisted? And he wasn’t just any man; he was a man who in his young age was chosen by a dragon.

Galbatorix seemed to answer Eragon’s question. “That day when my ignorant life was torn apart nobody came to my aid. Every dragon rider who rode with me abandoned me. And my Jarnunvosk...” He paused showing a rare moment of weakness before he crushed the emotion with an angry look. “Even that lowly creature abandoned me and left me with half a life.”

He then switched to a self-pitying tone, “I had to work under nobodies like Tenga and tolerate crazy people like Angela.”

Eragon’s head reeled as he assimilated the information. Angela! The witch had a history with Galbatorix? Why hadn’t she ever mentioned it?

“If not for Durza I wouldn’t have had my second life. But I have you, princess... you to thank for completing my rebirth.” Galbatorix reverted to his own proud self. Having completed his story, he looked into Arya’s eyes. Finding it perfectly emotionless, he seemed disappointed.

“I wanted to amuse you before you meet with your death. But my story seems to have served to bore you. So let us hear another tale; the tale of the ending of the previous owner of this sword.” Galbatorix said touching Shantiyastra.

Tears gathered in Arya’s eyes at the mere mention of her father, King Evandar by Galbatorix. Eragon wanted nothing but to cut the poison dripping tongue of Galbatorix. Was it not enough that his fingers tortured her? Should his tongue too join in?

“Your father, like you, was a great warrior or should I say among the greatest to have ever lived? But like you he had his flaws. He trusted me... that I would fight honestly. That too after knowing how I killed Vrael. It was with this sword,” Galbatorix pulled Shantiyastra out of Arya’s grasp, “that he pushed me to the very edge of existence before my loyal slave Morzan executed our plan to perfection. You should have seen Evandar’s expression as Zar’roc punctured his back. It was one for ages!” Galbatorix finished excitedly, as if cheating someone to their death was a thing to be proud of.

Eragon wanted to comfort her; tell her that it was fine and that none could have done anything to stop what happened; to let her cry in his shoulder. But he could do nothing. He had to watch the angry tears roll down Arya’s cheeks. He shut his eyes close unable to watch his beloved lose her control in the presence of their enemy.

“Ah! There! That is what I am talking about. Tears of an elf! How rare it is to see one. I am really blessed.’ Galbatorix smiled broadly. “Now that you have blessed me with your tears, princess, I will next need you to bless me with your heart, or shall I say his heart.” He pointed to Indra.

Arya’s eyes widened and Eragon’s shot open. ‘No. Not Indra! Let him be, tyrant. He is just a child. He hasn’t even seen five full moons yet.’ Eragon spoke with his mind abandoning all caution. Galbatorix simply eyed him flatly and turned back to Arya.

The way Eragon skirted around Glaedr’s mind to contact Galbatorix alerted the elder dragon to the presence of Indra and Arya. ‘You promised me Arya!’ Glaedr screamed in Arya’s mind although he went on to cover her and Indra’s mind just as he was protecting Eragon and Saphira’s.

“Let that thrice blasted dragon protect your minds... I have your bodies to play with. And till he gives up his heart, I shall not stop playing,” Galbatorix promised them.

He walked around Arya stomping his feet down proudly, probably contemplating ways to scare Indra into giving up his heart of hearts.

‘Saphira, what does he mean by my heart?’ Indra asked in a feeble voice. Eragon’s heart nearly stopped in grief. He didn’t even know he had a heart of hearts and Galbatorix was trying to separate it from him. It was just too much to tolerate.

Being unable to do anything to Galbatorix, all his anger turned towards Arya. ‘You! I pleaded with you not to come. Why did you come? Why? Why do you always have to disregard the advice of people who love you?’ He yelled at her.

Arya did not reply. But he could feel her fear. She was dead scared for Indra. He could not be angry at her after feeling her mind. ‘Don’t worry, don’t worry, Arya! He will be fine. We will make sure of it.’ He tried to assure her.

Galbatorix murmured, “Brisingr” and fire enveloped Arya’s fingers. Arya remained calm and her expression hardly changed. Galbatorix raised his eyebrows at Arya’s brazen attitude.

Eragon though could not just watch Arya’s finger being consumed by fire. He struggled against the bonds even though he knew it was of no use. His heart beat erratically opening up his newly clotted wounds.

Indra seemed to be in no better shape than Eragon. His exertions tore his wing membrane where it joined with his torso. Hot dragon blood oozed from it.

Galbatorix looked from Indra to Eragon and said, “Very interesting indeed.”

Arya’s eyes turned red as the pain from her burning finger reached unbearable proportions. Galbatorix smiled and said something in the ancient language. Instantly, Arya’s pained cry reverberated across the night sky before she bit her lip and went silent.

Something broke in Eragon hearing Arya’s cry. He thrashed his hand against his chest like a madman hurting himself in the process. It took him moments to process that he had actually overridden Galbatorix’s immobility spell. But when he tried to move against the usurper, he found that he could not.

Galbatorix looked at Eragon as if his interest was piqued. “What is it that we have here, uh?” He asked coolly. Eragon glared at him and if looks could kill, the king would have fallen dead the next moment. “You and I, Eragon, we need to have a little chat when this hearts game is over. It seems there is an interesting heart and brain game to be enjoyed. Its been long since I got to play this game last... and that was with your mother.” Galbatorix said casually and proceeded towards Indra. ‘My mother? You played your games with her too?’ Eragon thought sadly but he did not have time to brood as Galbatorix looked at Indra. Worry for his dear friend pushed everything else down.

“Now let us see what you have here green fellow!” Galbatorix said to Indra pointing his heart. “Know that your rider will lose all ten of her fingers if you don’t give up your heart.”

Blood was already dripping from Arya’s lips as she bit down hard on it. Galbatorix smirked evilly at her and said, “Breida” The fire simply spread to her other fingers. All five fingers on her right hand were burning and the smell of burnt flesh began to permeate the air.

Arya dropped all pretence of being able to overcome pain and started screaming as much as her throat allowed her to hoping that her sound would eventually drown out her pain.

‘Take it! Take whatever you want from me. Stop hurting her!!’ Indra screamed in Galbatorix’s mind.

“Good. Good dragon. You used to be my property and I am just recovering what is actually mine.” Galbatorix said as he went to stand before Indra.

“No Indra, you don’t understand what you are doing. Don’t give in. For my sake don’t!” Arya shouted with what remained of her voice after losing it in her screams of pain.

Saphira scrambled to explain the basics of Eldunari and their power to Indra hoping he would refrain from doing the ultimate folly.

‘I don’t care what it is. Can’t you see her being burnt before our eyes? As long as it can save Arya the pain I am willing to sacrifice anything.’ Indra replied. He then said to Galbatorix, ‘Take it and Leave her alone.’

“That is what I call dragon spirit!” Galbatorix said laughing victoriously. He raised his hand at Indra and began murmuring in the ancient language. As Indra was ready to disgorge his Eldunari, Galbatorix only had to say the choice words to separate the green sphere from Indra’s body. A slight green glimmer came from Indra’s chest indicating that his heart of hearts was now awakened.

Arya was weeping openly, pleading her dragon to reconsider his decision. Saphira was struggling against her bonds, wanting to shield Indra’s eldunari from Galbatorix and Eragon wanted nothing but to kill himself. He would not live to see the day Indra was made a puppet in Galbatorix’s hands. Reaching within his mind where magic welled, Eragon searched for the right word to end his life.

That was when things around them changed. Red, blue, yellow, brown, white, green and every other colour imaginable filled the air as dozens of explosions rocked Shruikan’s back. The waters of the Leona below them glimmered as a golden mist covered the night sky. From the mist that stretched from the trees by one shore of the lake to the wall of Dras-Leona at the opposite shore rose a likeness of Glaedr. Unlike how he was used to see his master, this rendering was complete with all four of his majestic legs intact. By the looks of it, the glimmering golden dragon seemed to be waking up from a deep slumber. His eyes shone with a light of their own as if he had two suns for eyes.

As he looked on awestruck, all pains from his mind and body forgotten, his mind was taken over by a savage feeling the like of which Eragon had never encountered before in his life. He could say that neither had Saphira, Arya and Indra from their looks. But it was Shruikan and his rider that were most affected by the force.

Galbatorix was trembling - literally. It was indeed a sight to behold. A man who was arrogance-personified being shaken to his core by a dragon who did not even have a physical body of his own.

“Corrupt youngling! You took Oromis from me,” Glaedr’s proud voice actually rang across the area, “But you will not have my children. Go away!!”

And that was it. Galbatorix and his dragon simply vanished from the place. There simply wasn’t any trace of them except for the prone figure of Elva on the floating floor. A thrilling shiver went down Eragon’s spine and he raised his hand ignoring the searing pain that shot through his injured body as he did so and shouted, “Ebrithil! You did it!!”

The likeness of Glaedr looked down at him from where he was floating in the sky and his expression changed from terribleness to fondness in a matter of seconds. Master and student looked at each other for a few seconds before Glaedr said turning to Arya who had rushed to Indra’s side the moment they were freed, “The partner-of-your-mind-and-heart is the bravest soul I have ever met. Take good care of Indra.”

Saphira roared her respect and admiration for her master and let out a torrent of fire from her mouth at his likeness. As his form started wavering and dimming, Glaedr turned to her and said, “Kuthian awaits you all children. Meet him!”

With that the world returned to normal. The golden light that permeated the place was gone replaced by the gloomy night. Well, it was normal except that they could not feel the reassuring presence of Glaedr’s mind. Panic stricken, Eragon half climbed and half fell from Saphira's back down to the floor which still remained floating indicating that Galbatorix was still alive and fumbled to open the strings of the bag which held Glaedr’s Eldunari.

Arya came to stand behind him, a look of utter shock on her face. She too felt the absence of Glaedr. When they opened the bag, they found that it was empty but for the folds of rich elven cloth that had wrapped Glaedr’s heart of hearts. Eragon turned around to see fresh tears streaming down Arya's face. Suddenly wanting her warmth, he flung himself onto her groaning as his injuries hurt him. She did not even feign resistance as she clung to him for support. Once his face was well hidden in her black locks, he let his tears flow as Saphira keened behind him.

Indra, who understood only half of what was happening around him felt his dearest people's sorrow and asked with rising trepidation, “Who was it?”

“Our master and your saviour.” Arya replied mournfully. Their beloved master, the last of the great dragons of a past era had given his life up to save them.

Author's Note:

This chapter and the two before this were all supposed to be a single one and were intended to bring out how woefully short the riders of the Varden are compared to Galbatorix. But as you must have noticed, these chapters also served to put Galbatorix in perspective. In this story, he is not the God he is in the originals. In For Alagaesia, he is a good swordsman, strong magician and a twisted king. But without his Eldunari, he is perfectly beatable. His strength is the Eldunari which feed him with massive energy, the like of which has never been showered on a single person ever. Besides, Paolini spoke of dragon's mysteries so much in the first book (Eragon) but showed not much of it when it came to Galbatorix. So here it is... what one dragon can do to Galbatorix. Finally, I thought that letting Glaedr live on completely beat the purpose of killing Oromis. If Oromis had to die to let Eragon take over, then Glaedr should have too. And that bit about Angela and that about Selena will surely be explained in detail later.

Breida - Ancient Norse for Spread.

P.S.: Sorry for the monotonous Letta spell used by Galbatorix. I figured out... the gloating type that he is, Letta would be his personal favourite :-) I know justifications for loss of creativity.