Just a Guy and a Gate to the Multiverse - Chapter 31 (Patreon)

Chapter 31 - Rider vs Rider above Gil'ead

— Gil’ead, 8000 AC —

Oromis’s POV

It had been far too long since Oromis had felt the air beyond Du Weldenvarden. His and Glaedr’s century of exile and hiding had been a difficult but necessary sacrifice.

Having to turn their eyes away from the plight of Alagaësia’s free peoples had placed a cruel burden on their minds. However, even without the crippling injuries that limited what they could accomplish, confronting the mad traitor Galbatorix would have resulted in nothing more than a glorified but meaningless death against his overwhelming power.

Passing on the legacy of the Dragon Riders and training the new hopes of Alagaësia had been the right choice, no matter how heavy the burden became. In truth, it had been their only real choice.

Although Brom had completed his training and remained a valid alternative, he had been young and inexperienced when he lost his dragon, Saphira I. There were lessons he simply could not teach without his partner. Without a dragon, he had also lost much of his power and immortality, while the passing years had gradually weakened his body. Even without those limitations, he could not compare to the centuries of experience and wisdom Oromis and Glaedr had accumulated.

Now, however, their duty was complete. They had passed the torch to the next generation, and their exile had finally ended. Oromis did not believe he would have another chance to instruct a Rider before Galbatorix was defeated, so continuing to hide within Du Weldenvarden would serve no purpose. Instead, they would do everything within their power to weaken the enemy.

The two of them—Rider and dragon, relics of a forgotten age—could finally join the war against Galbatorix in earnest. Even without their aid, the Elven forces had already advanced deep into the northern regions of the Broddring Empire, destroying every border outpost that guarded the Empire against the elves.

Queen Islanzadí’s army had already reached Gil’ead, the first major city within the Empire. After giving Eragon and Saphira their final lessons and revealing the secret behind Galbatorix’s strength—the hearts of hearts—they had departed Ellesméra together.

They had separated midway through the journey. Eragon and Saphira were heading toward the ruins of the Dragon Riders’ ancient home, seeking the Vault of Souls foretold by a prophecy. Only afterward would they rejoin the Varden and lead them during the siege of Feinster, the first major city in the southern Empire.

Meanwhile, Oromis and Glaedr had joined their fellow elves, riding into battle for the first time in more than a century.

Glaedr had welcomed the opportunity to stretch his wings and properly test his new golden foreleg. Its power was truly impressive, surpassing even that of his original limb. His injury would not be the reason they fell in battle.

Oromis’s crippling injuries, however, were another matter. Under normal circumstances, his body restricted him to only minor uses of magic, severely limiting their combined power. Unfortunately, it was an injury they had never been able to heal.

They had prepared for this day long in advance. They had always known that they would eventually join the battle against Galbatorix, so Oromis had stored every trace of excess energy he could spare within the yellow diamond set into the pommel of his golden blade, Naegling.

They had not been the only ones contributing. For years, several elves had visited twice each week to store their energy within the gemstone, allowing it to accumulate a vast reserve of power. That energy would enable Oromis to overcome the limited magical output of his crippled body.

At first, their arrival had intimidated the human forces guarding Gil’ead. None of the soldiers had expected another Dragon Rider to appear, and the sight of Oromis and Glaedr caused their morale to plummet.

Unfortunately, the effect did not last.

When the young red Dragon Rider joined the battle for Gil’ead—that poor fool enslaved by Galbatorix—the human armies regained their resolve. It did not help that most of the soldiers, despite living beneath a tyrant’s rule, believed they were protecting their loved ones from an invading race.

Because the elves had isolated themselves for so long, most humans viewed them as little more than a mysterious enemy—invaders who posed a grave danger to humankind.

The first exchanges against Murtagh, the red Dragon Rider, went in Oromis’s favor. His centuries of experience and training, combined with his Elven constitution and the enormous amount of stored energy within Naegling, allowed Oromis and Glaedr to keep pace with Murtagh, even though Galbatorix had empowered him with several Eldunarí.

Their battle carried them high into the skies above Gil’ead. Using the clouds and the cold, thin atmosphere as cover, Murtagh and Thorn managed to create a diversion and shake off their pursuers. For a moment, Glaedr lost sight of them.

However, Oromis’s sharp senses quickly located them. “Glaedr, behind us!”

Glaedr barely reacted in time to mitigate the damage as the two hatchlings aimed for his right shoulder—the one that remained healthy. They intended to cripple him further, believing his metal replacement was nothing more than an ornament.

That assumption proved to be a grave mistake. Thorn suffered deep gashes from the full force of Glaedr’s new, razor-sharp metal claws. The red hatchling narrowly avoided being caught in Glaedr’s grasp only because the golden dragon chose to strike first rather than seize him.

Nevertheless, the wounds had been inflicted, and they would continue draining Thorn’s strength throughout the battle.

As much as Oromis and Glaedr pitied the young Dragon Rider who had fallen into Galbatorix’s clutches, they could not allow the pair to escape. Willing or not, Murtagh and Thorn posed a threat to every free person in Alagaësia and placed an additional burden upon Eragon.

It was better for an old Dragon Rider, who did not have long left in this world, to remove that burden rather than leave it to Alagaësia’s young hope.

Refusing to let them gain any distance, Glaedr lunged forward and seized the young dragon and his Rider in midair. The four of them plummeted toward the ground, slicing through the air while Oromis’s sword repeatedly clashed against Murtagh’s blood-red blade.

In truth, both the elder dragon and his Rider believed they glimpsed fear on the young man’s face beneath his helmet. However, it would not deter them. They were fighting a war for freedom, and mercy was a luxury they could no longer afford.

Even the desperate curses Murtagh hurled at them failed to shake their resolve. “Curse you for not revealing yourself sooner! Curse you! You could have helped us! You could have—”

The young Rider suddenly appeared to choke on his own tongue.

A strange change swept through the atmosphere. Something within Murtagh shifted, and his entire demeanor transformed before an invisible force stopped their descent in midair, nearly causing Glaedr and Oromis to lose their grip on the young Dragon Rider.

Their fall suddenly reversed, and the unseen force pushed all four of them higher and higher into the sky until the burning city below appeared as little more than a tiny blot upon the landscape.

Oromis wondered whether the young pair intended to kill all four of them together.

Murtagh then began to speak again, far calmer than before. His entire demeanor had changed, as though another person now inhabited his body. His voice sounded richer and deeper, echoing as if he stood within an empty hall.

Hatred and fury surged through the golden dragon and his Rider as they realized exactly who was speaking through the young Rider’s body. It was their ancient enemy.

“So you survived, Oromis and Glaedr,” Galbatorix said. His words were smooth and measured, like those of a practiced orator, and his tone was deceptively friendly. However, they knew his true nature and would not be deceived. “Long have I suspected that the elves might be hiding a dragon or Rider from my sight. It is gratifying to have my suspicions confirmed.”

“Begone, foul oath-breaker!” Oromis cried with hatred. “You shall gain no satisfaction from us!”

Galbatorix chuckled, entirely unbothered and confident in his control. “Such a harsh greeting. For shame, Oromis-elda. Have the elves forgotten their fabled courtesy over the past century?”

He was indeed in control, and all of them knew it. Even from thousands of miles away, Galbatorix could overpower them using the strength of the thousands of Eldunarí under his command, channeling their energy through the young Dragon Rider.

Oromis did not care. He and Glaedr had prepared themselves for this possibility, fully aware of what the outcome would most likely be.

“You deserve no more courtesy than a rabid wolf.”

“Tut-tut, Oromis. Remember what you said to me when I stood before you and the other Elders: ‘Anger is a poison. You must purge it from your mind, or else it will corrupt your better nature.’ You should heed your own advice.”

The tyrant was as petty as ever.

“You cannot confuse me with your serpent’s tongue, Galbatorix. You are an abomination, and we shall see to it that you are destroyed, even if it costs us our lives,” Oromis gritted out spitefully.

Standing before the greatest traitor their Order had ever known brought forth all the pain and rage that Glaedr and Oromis had sealed away for more than a century.

“But why should it, Oromis? Why should you pit yourself against me? It saddens me that you have allowed your hatred to distort your wisdom, for you were wise once, Oromis—perhaps the wisest member of our entire Order. You were the first to recognize the madness eating away at my soul, and it was you who convinced the other Elders to deny my request for another dragon egg. That was very wise of you, Oromis. Futile, but wise. Somehow, you also managed to escape Kialandí and Formora, even after they had broken you, and then you hid until all but one of your enemies had died. That, too, was wise of you, elf.”

A brief pause interrupted Galbatorix’s speech.

“There is no need to continue fighting me. I freely admit that I committed terrible crimes in my youth, but those days are long past, and when I reflect upon the blood I have shed, it torments my conscience. Still, what would you have of me? I cannot undo my deeds. Now, my greatest concern is ensuring the peace and prosperity of the Empire over which I find myself lord and master. Can you not see that I have lost my thirst for vengeance? The rage that drove me for so many years has burned itself to ashes.

“Ask yourself this, Oromis: who is responsible for the war that has swept across Alagaësia? Not I. The Varden were the ones who provoked this conflict. I would have been content to rule my people and leave the elves, dwarves, and Surdans to their own devices. However, the Varden could not leave well enough alone. It was they who chose to steal Saphira’s egg, and they who now cover the earth with mountains of corpses—not I.

“You were wise once before, Oromis, and you can become wise once again. Abandon your hatred and join me in Ilirea. With you by my side, we can bring an end to this conflict and usher in an era of peace that will endure for a thousand years or more.”

Neither Oromis nor Glaedr was persuaded by the venomous words the serpent spewed before them, for they knew him far too well. Galbatorix might have become less impulsive over the years, but he had also grown far more manipulative.

In clear, ringing tones, Oromis said, “No. You cannot make us forget your atrocities with a balm of honeyed lies. Release us! You do not have the means to hold us here much longer, and I refuse to exchange pointless banter with a traitor such as yourself.”

“Bah! You are a senile old fool,” Galbatorix said, his voice acquiring a harsh, furious edge that revealed his true nature after his attempts at manipulation had failed. “You should have accepted my offer. You would have been first and foremost among my slaves. I will make you regret your mindless devotion to your so-called justice.

“And you are wrong. I can keep you like this for as long as I desire, for I have become as powerful as a god, and there is no one who can stop me!”

“You shall not prevail,” Oromis said, firm in his convictions. “Even gods do not endure forever.”

At that, Galbatorix uttered a foul oath. “Your philosophy does not constrain me, elf! I am the greatest of magicians, and soon I shall become greater still. Death will not take me. You, however, shall die.

“But first, you will suffer. Both of you will suffer beyond imagining, and then I will kill you, Oromis. I shall take your heart of hearts, Glaedr, and you will serve me until the end of time.”

“Never!” Oromis exclaimed as he once again clashed his sword against their opponent. This time, however, it was Galbatorix who wore Murtagh’s skin.

Unfortunately, experience offered far less of an advantage against Galbatorix. The tyrant had slain hundreds of Dragon Riders during his lifetime, including Vrael, the leader of their noble Order, and he possessed an immense amount of power.

With Oromis’s crippling injuries, defeating him in battle would be impossible.

When Glaedr felt Oromis stiffen upon his back, he feared the worst. Their minds remained separated for the duration of the battle so that Glaedr could focus entirely on the opposing red dragon, leaving him unable to sense exactly what had happened to his Rider.

Glaedr released his grip on Thorn and kicked him away, hoping to give Oromis enough space to recover. To his surprise, the maneuver succeeded, and the spell holding them in place suddenly released its grip.

“What? What did you do? Curse the two of you! How—” the traitor shouted in fury before abruptly falling silent.

At the same moment, the strange atmosphere surrounding them vanished.

The golden dragon noticed a sword tumbling past him. For an instant, he feared Oromis had lost his weapon, but then he realized that no bone-searing pain came through their shared connection.

Had Oromis suffered one of his seizures, Glaedr would have sensed it.

“Glaedr!” Oromis called from his back. “Quickly, catch them!”

For a moment, Glaedr could not comprehend his Rider’s command. Then he realized that the falling sword was blood-red.

It was Zar’roc.

Glaedr looked down and saw Thorn and Murtagh rapidly losing altitude without making any attempt to recover. They appeared to have fallen unconscious, though he could not understand how such a thing had happened.

Before he could consider the matter further, the golden dragon folded his wings and dived after the young Rider and his dragon. The city below expanded rapidly as they plummeted toward the ground.

Fortunately, Glaedr still possessed all four of his limbs. He caught the smaller dragon and his Rider before they could strike the earth and die from the impact.

They had descended close enough to Gil’ead for everyone within the city to see them clearly. Soldiers on both sides witnessed the unmoving red Dragon Rider being carried through the sky, apparently defeated in battle, though neither Glaedr nor Oromis understood what had truly happened.

One moment, they had been preparing to die in a final attempt to weaken their ancient enemy. In the next, the battle had ended.

They were not the only ones confused by the sudden turn of events. As the siege below shifted entirely in favor of the elves, Murtagh regained consciousness and weakly muttered, “What did you do? How did you drive him from my body? That should not be possible.”

Indeed, it should not have been possible. Galbatorix possessed enough power to maintain such a connection indefinitely. Mad though he was, the traitor had not lied about the extent of his strength.

His power truly rivaled that of a god.

It was a matter they would need to discuss with the war council later. For the moment, however, they still had a siege to finish.

After placing magical bindings upon the young Rider and his dragon, Oromis and Glaedr delivered them to the Elven camp to secure them, before returning to the battle.

Whatever had caused Galbatorix’s sudden disappearance, it had granted them an opportunity they could not afford to waste.

[ End of the Chapter ]