Luminescent (Inheritance Cycle and Beyond)

Chapter Fifty-Six: Brilliant

My eyes widened as they landed on Nasuada who was chained up to a giant block of stone.

"Nasuada!" Eragon shouted. "Are you all right?" She nodded.

"Has he forced you to swear fealty to him?" She shook her head.

"Do you think I would let her tell you if I had?" Galbatorix asked.

"Well, have you?" Eragon asked in a challenging tone.

"As it so happens, no. I decided to wait until I had gathered all of you together. Now that I have, none shall leave until you have pledged yourself in service to me, nor shall you leave until I have learned the true name of each and every one of you. That is why you are here. Not to kill me, but to bow down before me and to finally put an end to this noisome rebellion."

"We won't give in."

"Then they will die," My father replied, pointing at the two children. "And in the end, your defiance will change nothing. You do not seem to understand; you have already lost. Outside, the battle fares badly for your friends. Soon my men will force them to surrender, and this war will arrive at its destined conclusion. Fight if you wish. Deny what is before you if it comforts you. But nothing you do can change your fate or that of Alagaësia."

"Vae weohnata ono vergarí, eka thäet otherúm. We will kill you, I swear it." For a moment, my father appeared aggravated; then he spoke the Word again—as well as other words in the ancient language besides—and the vow Eragon had uttered seemed to lose all meaning.

"Swear all the oaths you want. They shall not bind you, not unless I allow them to."

"I'll still kill you," Eragon muttered. "What do you want with Mal? She has nothing to do with this, she isn't a Rider."

"She's my daughter, is that not enough?" My father replied. "From her the promise of Dragon Riders!."

"Shouldn't that be her choice!" Eragon scowled at my father. "She isn't a broodmare!"

"But then who will continue on my line? Perhaps her children are destined to become riders." I focused on pushing back the blush that wanted to appear on my face. Me become a wife. Not a good idea.

"Why won't you fight me? Are you a coward? Or are you too weak to match yourself against me? Is that why you hide behind these children like a frightened old woman?"

"Eragon!" I hissed in his mind, did he want to get himself killed before he even had a chance to kill my father?

"I am not the only one who brought a child here today," My father replied, the lines on his face deepening.

"There is a difference: Elva agreed to come. But you didn't answer the question. Why won't you fight? Is it that you've spent so long sitting on your throne and eating sweets that you've forgotten how to swing a sword?"

"You would not want to fight me, youngling," My father growled.

"Prove it, then. Release me and meet me in honest battle. Show that you are still a warrior to be reckoned with. Or live with the knowledge that you are a sniveling coward who dares not face even a single opponent without the help of your Eldunarí. You killed Vrael himself! Why should you fear me? Why should—"

"Enough!" My father shouted. A flush had crept onto his hollow cheeks. Then, like quicksilver, his mood changed, and he bared his teeth in a fearsome approximation of a smile. He rapped the arm of his seat with his knuckles. "I did not gain this throne by accepting every challenge put to me. Nor have I held it by meeting my foes in 'honest battle.' What you have yet to learn, youngling is that it does not matter how you achieve victory, only that you achieve it."

"You're wrong. It does matter," Eragon said.

"I will remind you of that when you are sworn to me." My father tapped the pommel of his sword. "I would like to know, once and for all, which of you is the better warrior. You will fight as you are, without magic or Eldunarí, until one of you is unable to continue. You may not kill each other yet—that I forbid—but short of death, I will allow most anything. It will be rather entertaining, I think, to watch brother fight brother."

"No," Eragon said. "Not brothers. Half brothers. Brom was my father, not Morzan." For the first time, my father appeared surprised. Then one corner of his mouth twisted upward.

"Of course. I should have seen it; the truth is in your face for any who know what to look for. This duel will be all the more fitting, then. The son of Brom pitted against the son of Morzan. Fate indeed has a sense of humor."