Chapter 9
The Stolen Egg
Murtagh’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of the egg room. He turned back to Celestine, who had turned her back to the door and was wiping the tears from her face. He brushed the side of her face with the back of his index finger. “Celestine…”
“I know,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “We must go.”
“Has it been stolen?” Murtagh asked as Celestine retrieved her helmet.
“Yes, sir,” the soldier replied.
“Lock down the castle and the courtyard. No one leaves until I find out what happened.”
“Already done, sir.”
On the way, he contacted Thorn from a distance. I’ve just received word that the egg has been stolen. Have you noticed anything amiss in the courtyard?
The egg? I’ll tear asunder any fool that harms it! I’ll—
Focus, Thorn! Have you noticed anyone trying to skulk away with a stolen dragon egg?
No. I’ve been here the whole time since the battle. When was it taken?
I don’t know yet. I’ll let you know more as I find out.
As they approached the room, they were met by two guards. “Sir,” one said, “it’s a grisly scene. The young lady might not want to see.”
“The young lady has seen worse in her time,” Celestine replied.
“I meant no offense, m’lady,” he said, bowing his head.
“What happened?” Murtagh asked.
“We found them when we went to change shifts. No telling how long they’d been dead or the egg gone.”
“That may not be the case,” Celestine said, walking around them and entering the room.
Grisly was an apt word. Barely any patches of floor were not covered with blood. Two of the guards had been eviscerated. A third guard had a slit throat. The fourth was lying face down in a pool of blood, his cause of death not immediately evident.
Murtagh entered the room behind her and said, “By the gods…”
Celestine inspected one of the eviscerated guards. “He’s been dead for hours.”
“We’ve been changing shifts every six hours as ordered, sir,” one told Murtagh.
Celestine had a puzzled look on her face. “Six hours sounds about right, but… do you notice anything odd about this scene?”
Murtagh paid close attention to the details. “Yes,” he said. “Their armor is undamaged. It looks like it was pulled up at the belly to make those wounds.”
Celestine rolled over the face down man. “His wrists have been cut. His armor is undamaged as well.”
“They killed themselves?” Murtagh asked. “But… I don’t understand.”
“Could they have been made to kill themselves? Magically?” Celestine asked.
“I suppose.”
“What of your wards on the pedestal?”
“Those are gone.”
“So, whoever did it must be a spellcaster,” Celestine said, “but six hours ago… That would’ve been right about the beginning of the battle, wouldn’t it?”
Murtagh nodded. “Perhaps the Varden had someone on the inside.” He turned to the soldiers. “Go and inform Lord Bradburn of this.”
“It’s already being done, sir,” he said. “One of us went to get you, one went to Lord Bradburn, and us two stayed here.”
“Well then, go and inform him to get his spellcasters together. Quickly!”
As they left, Murtagh turned to Celestine. She was closing the men’s eyes and whispering prayers over them. He waited until she was done before saying, “Celestine… I think we ought to wait to inform Galbatorix about this.”
She stood and gave him a disapproving look.
“It’s just that we may recover the egg quickly, and then it will be no point to worry him for nothing. Just give it time is all I mean.”
“No, we have to tell him right away.”
A familiar voice came from the doorway. “Glad to know at least one of you has some sense.”
They both looked as Galbatorix entered the room. Murtagh asked, “How did you…?”
“Know? Did you not think I had potent spells of protection placed upon it, boy? Or were you wondering how I got here so fast? I can move quite quickly when my last dragon egg is involved!”
“Your majesty, we will recover the egg,” Celestine said.
“Oh will you?” Galbatorix asked, advancing towards her. “And to think I made a great advancement towards returning you home. Recognize this?” he asked, handing her a large, leather-bound tome.
She skimmed through the first few pages before skipping large sections to check later parts of the book. “This is Holy Writ. You got this from my world?”
“Where else?” he asked, prying the book from her grasp.
“You can send me back?”
“After figuring how to obtain things from your world, figuring out how to send you back to your world would be a fairly simple matter. However, I think the issue with the egg warrants more attention.”
“I can fix this! I can get your egg back!”
“I can get my own damned egg back!” Galbatorix said. “How do you intend to fix… this?” He held out a shard of thick, green shell.
“It’s hatched?” Murtagh asked.
Galbatorix just glared at him in response.
“I can fix this!” Celestine insisted. “I can make it right!” she said, hurrying from the room.
Murtagh started after her, but Galbatorix grabbed his arm. “Let me go! She’ll get herself killed!”
“As if I’d let anything happen to her before she’s of any use to me. First things first. I need to know what you two have been up to.”
Having said that, Galbatorix began scouring his mind, reading all of the events Murtagh had witnessed since they’d left for Belatona.
* * *
Arya looked at Eragon as he sat in his tent, holding his head in his hands. He said, “I don’t know what happened. We were doing well. I’d almost overcome Murtagh, but then he said those strange words and Saphira suddenly grew so weary.”
Arya said nothing. Eragon looked up at her. “How many did we lose?”
She sat next to him. “I don’t know. About a thousand. King Orrin is already speaking of harsh measures to take against deserters.”
“Deserters? But this was just a setback. We’ll find a way to defeat this new foe; we always do!” Eragon said, standing. He paced back and forth a bit before adding, “We shouldn’t have attacked anyway. She warned us this would happen. She knew her power better than we did. That is not a mistake that will be made twice.”
“More than that, Eragon. She knew our power better than we knew hers. As you say, though—it is not a mistake to be made twice.”
“I need more power! Solembum told me that when all seems lost and my power is insufficient, to speak my name to the Rock of Kuthian and open the Vault of Souls. This must be that time, but I still don’t know where the rock is. Arya, I asked you about it before. Have you found anything out about it?”
Arya stood. “Asked me about it? This is the first I’ve ever heard of it. Though it does sound familiar…”
Before Eragon could say anything else, they were interrupted by an amplified voice ringing throughout the camp. “Eragon!” she called. “Eragon! Where are you? Come out and face me, coward! Eragon!”
The color drained from his face, but still he reached for his sword. Arya touched his hand as he strapped it to his belt. “Let me handle her,” Arya said.
“But—”
“You will need to rally the men so that they don’t flee. I will handle this sorceress.”
“Be careful,” he said. He paused to look at Arya just a moment before hurrying from the tent.
Arya took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She’d barely had any time to rest since the night’s battle, but then that meant the little sorceress hadn’t either. She walked briskly from Eragon’s tent, stopping only to retrieve her sword, heading towards the sound of the voice which was still calling, “Eragon! Where are you?”
Men were running the other direction. As she made her way through the press of men, Arya hoped that Eragon would be able to handle the situation. King Orrin had spoken of harsh measures indeed.
Less than a hundred feet outside the camp, Arya found Celestine. The girl stopped and said, “I’m looking for Eragon.”
“Does a lion answer when a dog barks?” Arya asked.
“Where is Eragon? I would have words with him.”
“You decimate our army and then storm our camp? You will have far more than words, little sorceress, but not with Eragon.”
“Have it your way then, Elf,” Celestine said, drawing her sword.
Arya readied her mental defenses and then reached out to probe her opponent’s mind. She was shocked to find it completely unguarded, her thoughts completely open. Decimate their army? They’re the ones that attacked! Then they steal the green dragon and he won’t even face me! My responsibility and if I don’t get it back, Galbatorix will never send me home. After I deal with this Elf, we’ll see what Eragon has to say for himself!
As she listened, Arya noticed something in the background—some sort of song. It wasn’t like the dreamy Elf song that lured the unwary. Though quiet, the sound was majestic, glorious. She’d never heard anything like it in the mind of a human. She listened more and more carefully, trying to discern the words, but she paid so much attention to the background that she almost didn’t notice the girl’s attack in her foreground thoughts. A shape and some unfamiliar words coalesced in her mind along with a sentiment of Let’s see how she handles this. Arya couldn’t see the attack, but could tell that it was aimed at her chest. She dodged to the left as quickly as possible, but whatever it had been clipped her arm, half spinning her and nearly knocking her down. She would have to ignore the song in the girl’s heart if she hoped to win this encounter.
Arya probed the girl’s mind for any information on her magic defenses, but could find nothing. How could a girl with a mind so open possibly be hiding her magic defenses so well? Or, on the other hand, how could a spellcaster of such demonstrated power possibly have no wards to defend her?
Arya was on the defensive again quickly as Celestine cast several more spells—mostly invisible force spells like the first one. She concluded her attack with a fireball and Arya noticed something that stunned her so much that the fireball passed much closer to her than she would’ve liked. The girl hadn’t said or thought brisingr at all, and yet, there was fire. Her mind had been much the same as when casting the other spells—shapes and unfamiliar words. Perhaps… her magic was different? So, perhaps she didn’t have wards such as traditional spellcasters had? Arya almost spoke the words to stop Celestine’s heart when a sudden thought stopped her. There was no way Galbatorix would let his pet force of destruction out on the battlefield without putting wards on her if she couldn’t do it for herself. That would also explain why she couldn’t sense them in the girl’s mind—they wouldn’t be there.
Celestine had paused her attack for the moment. Thoughts of frustration seethed in her mind. Playing with me. Hate Elves. They think they’re so superior. I’ll show her superiority.
Arya sprinted forward and swung her sword. Celestine parried and riposted, but Arya was quicker, sidestepping and pressing the attack as Celestine stumbled back. The girl’s thoughts were in turmoil as she began reacting without thinking first. She must have had training with the sword in order to keep herself defended so well on instinct and muscle memory. Suddenly, Celestine concentrated on some shapes and said some words aloud, but her actions were moving as fast as her mind was now and Arya couldn’t tell where the attack would hit until after it sent her sprawling away.
As Arya stood, Celestine pondered her opponent. Good thing she didn’t see that one coming… Wait a tick, the Elves here don’t have Magesight—no one here does but me, and I already knew that. Oh, Angelina would’ve already thought of this, I’m sure. I should be fighting her the way I’d fight a normal. Celestine smiled. “One last chance. Let me see Eragon.”
“It will not happen,” Arya said, but in the back of her mind she wondered how Celestine would fight a “normal.”
“Very well, but remember: you asked for this.”
Her eyes looked about; shapes started filling her consciousness. She moved her hands and arms, speaking words of some other language, and the shapes in her mind transformed into vaguely human outlines. Whatever she was doing, Arya didn’t intend to let her finish. She charged again, but before she could reach Celestine, several more armored girls appeared around her—all looking just like their originator, all with swords drawn.
Arya paused. Were they real? If this Celestine were a standard spellcaster, there would be no way. How to know the limits of this stranger’s magic, though? She continued to press into her opponent’s thoughts as she swung her sword at the nearest doppelganger. The girl’s thoughts mainly indicated that she was pleased with her cleverness, but Arya picked up on a stray musing that answered her question. So very hard to see through illusions without Magesight.
Even so, the figure in front of her blocked the sword, and it felt real enough. Was it possible she was attacking the real one? Arya focused her effort on this one, but when another stabbed at her, she parried just in case. That blade felt real as well. The girl’s thoughts had already betrayed that these were illusions. It must simply be that the illusions were complete in all the senses. Any of them could be the real one.
One of the girls said, “You don’t talk much when you fight. That’s probably best.”
Arya turned on her quickly, pressing a ferocious attack, ultimately running her sword through the girl’s throat. She fell to the ground and disappeared. The other girls laughed. One said to another, “She’s quite the vicious one, isn’t she?”
“Yes, but not very discerning,” the other girl answered.
Complete in all the senses indeed. Suddenly, Arya caught another thought. Won’t see this one coming.
With more than a slight sense of desperation, Arya paid careful attention to every detail her keen Elven senses could pick up as several of the armored foes converged on her. Behind her she noticed blades of grass bending under an invisible weight. All of the girls were illusions! The real one was invisible! Arya swung her sword in a broad arc that would block an incoming stab at as many levels as possible. Something clanged off her blade at about thigh level. Arya spun to swing again from the same side. This time she made contact with something that yelped.
The illusory foes all disappeared and Celestine became visible again as she rolled several feet to the side. A trickle of blood ran down her left arm, but it appeared that the worst of the blow had been absorbed by the eagle-shaped shoulder armor. Arya dashed forward to run her through on the ground, but an invisible shield blocked her as the little spellcaster stood and hurried to a safer distance.
Arya again delved into the girl’s mind to determine how next her foe would approach her. Don’t have time for this! How did she even…? Blasted Elven senses I’m sure. And what is this pressure? It’s like a headache, but instead of pressure in my head, it’s like pressure on my… sense of self… Oh bother, Murtagh warned me about this. She’s been reading my thoughts this whole time! Oh, what did he say to do? That’s right. Concentrate on some ear worm piece of music. But what to pick… Ah yes!
One, one, one Makotan swordsman
Went out, went out, went out to fight an army.
He fought, and won; he beat one hundred soldiers,
But they came back with two hundred.
So one, one, one Makotan swordsman
He stood, and fought, against two hundred soldiers.
He lost, and fled; the army was victorious,
But he came back with another.
So two, two, two Makotan swordsmen
Went out, went out, went out to fight an army.
They fought, and won; they beat two hundred soldiers,
But they came back with three hundred.
Arya got out of her mind to escape that annoying singsong tune—there was no more use being in her mind. She’d have to handle this a little more traditionally. Celestine moved her hands about, saying words in that unfamiliar language, until she slammed both palms into the ground. An eight-foot tall, roughly human shaped figure rose from the earth beneath her of which it also seemed composed. The girl plucked some sort of stone from her belt pouch, knelt on its broad shoulders, and pressed the stone into the creature’s mouth underneath its gravelly tongue. It almost seemed to breathe after she did that. She then whispered into its ear something that Arya could hear by virtue of her sensitive Elven ears, “Golem. Smash.”
Celestine slid down its back as the so-named golem raised its arms and roared. Arya lost track of her as she became invisible again. As Arya prepared a spell, several more golems rose from the ground and roared in like manner. Surely those had to be illusions…
* * *
Eragon could hear the roar on the other side of the camp—a roar deep and loud like winter’s first avalanche on a cold, lonely mountain. He hoped Arya would be unharmed, but he also had no time to reflect on it. The mass of men that he’d been convincing not to break and flee from Celestine’s approach were looking past him to the grassy plains with renewed panic. “Hold men! Hold!” Eragon cried. “We have fought through numerous battles! Faced foes far more powerful than we had any expectation to defeat! This will be no different.”
As he spoke, he heard the thundering of hooves. King Orrin and his cavalry circled around the press of soldiers to face opposite them. They then lowered their lances. “Any deserters shall be immediately punished with death,” he proclaimed. “Now arm yourselves against the intruder and fight like men. Do you still hope to free yourselves from Galbatorix’s reign? Then defeat this child!”
“You mean me?” the clarion voice called out.
Everyone turned and looked to see Celestine approaching, her countenance as severe as a bird of prey. The men glanced at the cavalry that blocked their escape. Many were drawing weapons, perhaps thinking to summon up enough courage for an assault. She must’ve seen it, too, for she raised her hands and said, “Ignatous orbus succendamus.”
A waist-high ring of fire encircled her to a radius of five feet. At the mere sight of flames, one of the soldiers broke and ran, heedless of the horsemen that barred his way. As he tried to push past, one of the cavalry speared him between the ribs. Eragon and Celestine both shouted an imprecation at the same time, and then the world turned upside down for Eragon. He saw men flung left and right like children’s ragdolls. He saw the ground and the sky change places several times as he felt himself soaring through the air.
When he came to himself, the horses had been scattered, the men had been scattered. All that remained on the battlefield was him and Celestine. She was knelt over the injured man—a soft, white light emanating from her hands. She was weeping.
He drew Brisingr. As he approached, he heard Saphira in his mind. Eragon, do you need help? I’ve kept the men from retreating on the north side.
Check on Arya, please.
But Eragon…
Please!
Very well, but I’m coming to you as soon as I make sure she’s well.
He walked towards her with great care. Each step he reminded himself that she was a danger, an obstacle on the way to Galbatorix. She had to be defeated. She paid him no mind as he neared, focused entirely on the prone man. His wound was closed, but fresh blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. Eragon raised his sword and swung. The blade rebounded off an invisible shield.
“A man lies dying—one of your own men even!—and all you can think of is adding more death? What’s wrong with you?”
“You slay hundreds upon hundreds of men, but you want to save this one? Why?”
“Because I can!” she shouted back. She then wiped some tears from her cheeks and said, “Or at least I thought I could. I stopped all the bleeding, but he’s lost a lot of blood and he’s choking on the blood in his lungs. I can replace the lost blood, but I don’t know what to do about his lungs.”
“Can’t you just put the blood back into his veins?”
“Easy for you to say.” Celestine suddenly looked directly at him. “That’s it! It’s easy for you to say! Say it; cast the spell. It wouldn’t take a lot of energy at all.”
Reluctantly, Eragon did as she asked. She clapped her hands and said, “Dayus be praised! He’s going to make it!”
The man lolled his head towards her. She looked him in the eyes, hands poised over his chest, and cautioned, “Brace yourself. This last part hurts.” She focused on his chest a moment before glancing back to him to add, “A lot.”
The white glow returned to her hands and, true to her word, the man cried out in pain and writhed beneath the light, but within moments it was over and the man was able to unsteadily get to his feet. “Go back to your tent,” Celestine told him.
As the man complied, Celestine said, “I’m glad you helped. But now for the reason I’m here.”
Eragon tightened his grip on Brisingr.
She continued, “Where is the green dragon?”
“What? I thought you said you had it.”
“It was stolen during the battle by some magician that murdered all the guards, and you have no knowledge of this?”
“It’s the first I’ve heard of it. In case you didn’t notice, while you were burning the city streets, I was busy fighting Murtagh, and after the battle I was tending to Saphira.”
“I know you didn’t steal it personally,” she said, “but I presume there are other magicians in your marauding band. You know of none of them that took it?”
“I don’t.”
“I need to get that dragon back!”
“That’s the second time you’ve said ‘dragon’ instead of ‘dragon egg.’ Has it… hatched?”
Celestine sheathed her sword and said, “You really don’t know, do you? But if not one of you, then who?”
Celestine began to walk away when Eragon pointed his sword at her and shouted, “Hold! You think you can simply walk away without answering for your crimes?”
She glared at him and opened her mouth to speak, but she was interrupted. “Since when is it a crime to kill armed soldiers in battle during a war, Eragon? Or, if it is a crime, are you not equally guilty? Perhaps you should answer for the Battle of the Burning Plains? Or for Feinster?”
Eragon turned to see the man himself in imposing black armor, looking like a raven to Celestine’s dove. Only one word could escape his lips. “Galbatorix.”
“In the flesh,” he said with a mock bow. He then turned to Celestine and added, “It was dangerous to go alone.”
“I don’t think it’s here.”
“You could have waited a moment. I can sense nearby dragons,” he glanced at Eragon and added, “I cast that spell on myself a long time ago. Have you worked it out yet?” He looked back to Celestine. “Wherever he is, he’s not close.”
Celestine hung her head. “Oh.”
Eragon barely paid attention to what they were saying. Here was Galbatorix. His ultimate foe right in front of him. He couldn’t let this opportunity pass. Shouting “Brisingr!” Eragon swung his sword at the king.
Saying something in the original language, Galbatorix lifted his armored hand and grasped the fiery sword by its burning blade. He then placed his empty palm against Eragon’s chest and cast a spell that pushed Eragon away several feet. Brisingr remained in Galbatorix’s hand. He smirked to see that it was still aflame despite no longer being in Eragon’s grasp. He then muttered a few words and tossed the doused blade aside. “Impressive sword. Did an Elf make it?” he asked. “No, wait. Let me guess. An Elf made it, but used your body to do so.”
“How did you know?” Eragon asked before wondering whether it had been wise to confirm his suspicion like that.
“Because when you let an Elf craftsman use your body to create an object, a representation of your identity fuses with the object. Did they not tell you? Or did they pretend to be as surprised as you? I suspect your first spell was also brisingr, wasn’t it?” Galbatorix asked. Eragon remained silent now, but the king continued, “You’re like fire, Eragon.” Galbatorix sighed. “When it rages unchecked, fire is destruction. When harnessed, it bakes bricks, shapes metal—it is needed to build. What kind of fire do you want to be, Eragon? I’ll let you think about it while I find my dragon.”
He then walked away, Celestine following beside him. At one point, Galbatorix put his arm around Celestine’s shoulders. What was she to him? Saphira’s voice filled his head, Eragon, Arya and I are on our way to you. Are you all right?
I’m… They left. Galbatorix was here. He didn’t even deign to fight me. They just walked away.
Finn on 13 October 2012, 12:12 said:
YES! CONTINUITY! I was so frustrated when Pao-Pao brought in that whole brisingr thing and I thought it was going to be so important but then he never brought it up again. Good job! I loved it!
Taku on 13 October 2012, 20:31 said:
Take this! :sword:
heehee.
Nice chapter. I like the fight scene, very well written.
RandomX2 on 13 October 2012, 22:25 said:
Yes Taku! You noticed, too!
Asahel, I just wanted to let you know that I’ve read up until this point and I’m finding it very entertaining. Good on you for not overdoing it and making Eragon extremely stupid in an act of counter-culture (or making him a clear villain because your OC is the protagonist).
Your characterization and general writing seems to be better in these later chapters than it was in the earlier chapters. You also write fights pretty well overall.
Gooooooood stuff!
Asahel on 15 October 2012, 13:08 said:
Thanks everyone who commented!
Thank you. I’m a big fan of continuity, which is why teaser trailer I guarantee we’ll see more of what happens to Kaelin/Dorias in the future.
Thank you. I just couldn’t help myself with that reference, ha ha. Glad to see others got enjoyment from it, too! Glad you also enjoyed the action.
Thank you. Glad you’re liking it. Really, I’m just trying to let Eragon be himself, and Celestine doesn’t get any special treatment just because she’s mine.
Again, thanks. I mainly attribute that to three things: 1) Introductions are probably my weakest part of writing. (Seriously, you should see the first draft of just about any chapter 1 I’ve ever written… Then again, maybe you shouldn’t, ha ha!) 2) Crossover fan fics are probably some of the hardest stories to introduce because you’re dealing with two universes that are now interacting with each other. Now, the more well-known the universes are, the easier that can be, but since my story is still unpublished, only Eragon’s universe is pretty well-known of the two. 3) Writing is a skill like any other—the more you do it, the better you get at it, so I’m sure some of the improvement must be due to that.
Thanks for the feedback everyone
Creature_NIL on 16 October 2012, 12:42 said:
When you publish your book, will you tell the ImpishIdea community? Because what I’ve seen so far of your character and universe is intriguing, and I’ve really enjoy reading it.
On that note, this crossover-fic is so enjoyable, I’d wish you’d update it more often. (Please?)
Good grief, I’m even starting to want to read the Inheritance Cycle (is that what it’s called?) because of this now.
Nate Winchester on 16 October 2012, 13:31 said:
To be fair, some of his delays are because those he’s recruited as editors don’t get off their lazy asses and get back to him fast enough.
Oh noes! It’s all backfired horribly!
Asahel on 18 October 2012, 19:20 said:
Oh definitely! I’ll be shouting it from the rooftops (and in case you don’t hear that, I’ll post it here, too)!
Glad you’re enjoying it.
I do promise to at least try. I think I might be able to pick up the pace soon.
Darsaan on 19 November 2012, 08:57 said:
2 things:
1) Asahel, really love your writing mate. Excellent fight scenes, and nice characterisation of murtagh and galby – love reading a crossover where we get to hear galby and murtagh’s pov.
2) Are you writing a novel about Celestine and her world? Cos’ if so, please tell me the name of the series so I can buy it :) seriously…
Kerosene on 27 November 2023, 13:38 said:
I think putting blood from blood-filled lungs back inside the veins wouldn’t actually help. Lungs are obviously exposed to air and blood tends to coagulate when in contact with air. So we’d end up with some already solidified blood in the system, leading to blocked artery or something.