Chapter Three

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Chapter 3

“Submit!” shouted Galbatorix, and his mind bore down on Eragon with even greater force as splinters of ice and fire lanced through him from every direction.1

Eragon reached out in desperation, his mind reaching for Saphirah and the Elundarí, he knew in his heart he could win, however, without the help from his allies he would never beat the colossal power that strangled his mind. He began to draw from their stores of energy to aid him with the upcoming battle and with that energy he cast the spell, a spell without words, a spell to make the tyrant king understand.

Emotion and energy surged through him, engulfing every thought of the true meaning of life, every tiny thought Eragon had studied during his meditation took on the importance of a kings. A hundred years of grief and anger swelled up inside the minds of the dragons, the pain merging with Eragon’s river of energy that burst its banks as it surged towards the king. A myriad of emotions, words and memories, all spanning back through time. Past and present. Man and mouse. Dark and Light. The king cowered, quivering as the flow of energy washed down his barriers, pushing them aside as though they were little more than delicate saplings. “What have you done?2” the questioning line came out strangled and hoarse as the king cried in agony. Eragon replied as grandly as he could through the effort. “Made you understand.3”

The battle of the minds waged on, tearing apart the ancient kings lucidity.

“Waise Ne...”

A blinding flash of light engulfed the room before Eragon had the chance to even react to the spell the king was creating. He panicked; the king had not completed his spell. The spell had no channel, nothing to keep it stable, no word to control the time it continued and nothing to direct the immense flow of energy.

Eragon howled, he heard Arya scream his name. He saw the flash of her silver garbed figure try and force her way through the wave of light in an attempt to reach him. It was a wasted effort. He saw the crack open up behind the king, the dark lord’s body still poised in the position of suffering, yet his face was no longer twisted in pain, instead it was pure horror that painted his age withered features.

The light burned his skin as the gaping mouth opened up before him; he felt it draw on his energy.

A whisper of his final spell escaped Eragons dry cracked lips as he attempted to save himself, but he no longer had the stores of energy left to power the spell. Saphirah howled in agony, partially collapsed onto the stone floor as she shared her rider’s pain. She looked up with a crystal blue eye, holding the pained gaze of her frail rider. Eragon shared the moment with her, he blinked, feeling where tears should have welled only aridity behind his hollowed eyes.

There was a final burst of energy and the deadly smile was swallowed up into nothingness, in its place stood a distorted figure, a blurry image of heavenly curves, perfect features and stunning raven black hair. The figures eyes gleamed behind the haze as she fed off the remnants of the chaos the smile of light had caused. This story was over and the satisfaction she felt was enough to last a millennium.

“Now, my dear little beings.” Eris sang, a curious smile spreading across her face. She raised her hand and clicked her long elegant fingers. Her form was swept up by a small dusty hurricane which breezed her along the floor, before reconstructing her elegant posture as she draped over the hard angular throne, the head of the carved black dragon silently roaring beneath her fingertips. Her dark, walnut eyes scanning the gloomy throne room. The lanterns that had lit the room had withered and died upon Eris' arrival, their energy devoured by the force of the portal she had arrived through. Her eyes settled on an unsteady figure that stood at the centre of the hall, his shadow cast over the dried body of his enemy. She ignored the quivering dragon, sobbing elf and all other bodies that filled the room, instead she was intent upon studying the tall man that remained frozen to the core of the action.

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