Jim liked being part of the Empire's forces. It had been a point of pride for him for a long time that while others had to be conscripted into service, he had come voluntarily years before. Jim wasn't good at many things, but if there was one thing that he enjoyed, it was being a soldier. He was good at it, too. He had been practicing it long before the Varden's ridiculous revolt.
Whenever there had been bandits, He had been the first to charge into battle for the good of the Empire. Jim smiled at the thought of slaughtering weak and poorly armed bandits until he remembered they weren't fighting bandits now.
Jim saw the lightning bolt that had dusted thousands of his brothers in arms. Jim felt a shudder of terror at the thought. He had never even thought he would fight dragons and terrifying magicians. Still, Jim, as a loyal soldier of the Empire, knew that he couldn't give in. If he gave in, it would only prove his parents right.
Despite everything, he would stand against the Varden's unnatural legion of soldiers. The name Jim Harper would go down in history as a Hero of the Empire. His family couldn't help being proud of him then. His mother, father, and even his sister had been distraught when they found out he had enlisted. They would see now that he had made the right choice. He would make them see.
Jim ignored the gigantic Sapphire dragon and broomed figure that flew past overhead—knowing that he could not kill them yet. He knew The Empire's soldiers would have to slaughter the Varden before they could reach their Rider, but when they did, they would pay. Jim had no trouble imagining the gruesome murder of the Varden's Rider. Joy filled his eyes at the thought of his mangled body and his Dragon's blue wings torn off. Jim knew things would make sense again with the Varden rider's death.
Jim gave an angry cry and charged a group of Varden men. Jim had seen the Varden's forces become scattered and minor skirmishes develop and knew exactly what to do. Gathering the Empire soldiers that stood at the back of the army, he kept them together despite the chaos of battle.
When the Dwarves came, and the Empire began to fall back, Jim managed to keep his soldiers together with his sharp, commanding voice and domineering personality. This is how he would become victorious, one skirmish at a time. Slaughtering Varden soldiers with overwhelming numbers just like it should have been in the beginning
Jim drew his sword across a Varden soldier's neck and blocked a strike from another. Bringing up his shield, he drove it forward into the man's midriff, knocking the attacking soldier to the ground and knocking the wind out of the larger man long enough for Jim's sword to dart forward and impale the man's neck. Jim looked around and saw his men slaughter the remaining soldiers in overwhelming numbers.
Jim let loose a savage smile. It was amazing what you could do was amazing without Lightning bolts falling from the heavens, slaughtering thousands, and fire whips burning soldiers by the dozens.
If only the Varden fought fair and didn't contend with unnatural creatures like Urgals. Jim shook his head and raised his sword, "to me." They would still succeed. Despite everything, they would beat these unnatural monsters. They would slaughter them all to the last, especially the Urgals, those savage beasts.
Jim still had to pay the Urgals back for taking so many lives from his hometown, Yasmend. Those monsters raped and pillaged many homes in his surrounding area. Jim remembered how his town hoped and prayed they would not visit their village, but it was for nothing. They were helpless against the urgal hordes and had to flee as Yasmend burned to the ground, and many didn't survive. Jim's brother died in the fighting.
Jim's brother Kamlin was part of why he became a soldier. The money, the women, and Kamilin's sacrifice had driven him to continue as a soldier in his darkest times.
Jim began to collect his soldiers for another assault on another small Varden group. His men were gathering, reveling in their victory with him. Suddenly, Jim could feel a rumbling underneath his feet. The rumbling continued for quite some time but stopped just as suddenly. Just as Jim thought there wasn't any cause for concern, he saw a glint of silvery metal sticking out from the ground.
Jim couldn't help but let out a cry of terror as he could feel some unnatural freak of nature released among his men. Sharp silvery worms impaled dozens of Jim's men in seconds, but no blood came out. More cries of terror rang out, but it didn't stop the silvery branches as they reached for more men, causing even more chaos and screaming. Jim didn't even notice when he had begun running, but it had turned into a dead sprint. He felt weightless as he ran away from a silver branch targeting.
He only heard the sound of his breath and the screaming of his men. He could feel the earth move as branches continued to reach for him. Jim listened to his men's screams cut out, but Jim didn't stop his panicked sprint. He kept running until he was distracted by the rustling of dirt behind him and tripped.
As the branch snaked forward at his toppled form, Jim fell onto his back and crawled back as fast as he could. Jim paused briefly, expecting death, but it didn't come. A silver branch's sharp tip stopped just short of his heart. Jim took a ragged breath and felt sweat collect on his brow before falling into his eyes, but he didn't even blink, not daring to move for several seconds.
Backing away even further, Jim saw the tree branch struggle as if trying to escape its leash before falling still as if it had petrified. Jim looked at what he had run from and saw the strangest trees he had ever seen before. Their branches were at some points broader than the bases of the trees, which stood much wider than even ordinary tree trunks.
The branches bent at some parts but were like straight rods of pointed silver at their ends, sticking out of the Tree's base at strange angles. A forest of these peculiar, completely silver Trees filled with thorns had formed in his wake. He saw hundreds of his men impaled on their branches. He could still see the horror on some of their faces as many of his men hung impaled not far from where he stood.
"What the fuck are we fighting!"
Jim wanted to return to where man fought man, and the skill of arms and size of forces mattered. This wasn't war. Jim refused to believe that this was war.
Jim looked at the impaled body of a soldier, not a meter away from him. Suddenly, a horrifying thought occurred to Jim. Whatever made this silver forest come to ensure he slaughtered his intended target, it wasn't hard for the soldier to imagine some eldritch evil stalking across the battlefield to where he was now. Jim decided he did not want to be here when he arrived.
Jim made a wide circle around the Silvery monstrosity, making sure not to look at the men that the accursed thicket of silver trees had impaled. He ran away from the battle's heart, disregarding his chafing armor and exhaustion. He made it to the edge of the battlefield, where skirmishes were still happening.
He could see some men fighting not far away from him but tried his best to skirt around any fighting he saw. Jim could hear the beating of wings and crackling of fire behind him, but Jim didn't turn around. He ran straight toward the treeline he could see in the distance. He barely made it near the river when what looked like a bunch of farmers and a huge, angry man with a hammer blocked his path.
Jim sighed, exhausted, but lifted the sword and reached behind his back for his shield before remembering he had abandoned it in the chaotic run from the murder trees. Jim gripped his sword in both hands and gritted his teeth as he looked at the hammer man who looked at him with murderous intensity.
"Come on then." Jim charged right at the man with the hammer. His sword darted toward the man's neck but was swiftly blocked by the downward swing of the man's hammer. Unbalanced for a brief moment, unprepared for the force behind such a blow, Jim was slow to react as the man windmilled his arm for another strike as he moved in closer.
Unable to dodge, Jim lifted his left arm and screamed as he felt and heard his bones snap. Jim ignored his pain for now and swung his sword in a violent slash toward the hammer maniac without missing a beat. The man fell back to avoid Jim's swing. He was just about to capitalize on it when the surrounding farmers jumped in, jabbing their pitchforks or makeshift swords out to stave Jim off as the hammer man came to his feet.
"Let me leave you, cowards." Jim had enough. He refused to admit defeat to a bunch of farmers. He was a soldier. Jim might not have a chance when others cheated with magic, but these weren't magicians.
The Hammer wielder and the farmers shared confused looks before the Hammer man nodded as if to say Jim could leave if he wanted to. Jim felt anger build at his casual dismissal but ignored it and began running again towards the river tree line. Jim considered charging in and slaughtering the lot of them, but he was done with this battle and ran away instead.
Jim quickly managed to get under the canopy of trees only to see a small clump of limbs in the distance. The ball leaned against the Tree and stood 300 feet tall. Jim was about to run in the opposite direction when he heard muffled screaming from the ball.
It was likely nothing. Jim knew some small animals lived near the burning planes. It was probably one of those animals rather than a human trapped in the ball. Jim began to turn away when he remembered the horror-stricken faces of his soldiers mounted on pikes of silver.
He felt guilt set in as some of his shock faded away. Why did he survive while his men died to that silver monstrosity? He remembered Torik, the excitable youth he had comforted at the beginning of the battle. He told him that they would be okay. The Empire would win against the Varden so fast that Torik couldn't call himself a war veteran.
That was something he believed without a doubt. Jim could only feel his bitterness and anger build at the result of this battle and what happened to Torik. The young boy was rammed by an Urgal Kull and impaled on his sharpened horns. Jim's only comfort was that he killed the monster that did it and had gotten revenge. He had help, but he was the one that struck the final blow.
Jim didn't have time to mourn all the men he had drunk with and treated as friends. If Jim had to pour one cup out for every person he lost, he would quickly go poor and have no more alcohol. He looked at the ball of flesh in the distance and hesitantly began walking toward it. Perhaps he could bring someone with him as he fled this dreadful massacre.
Hobbling toward the ball of flesh, Jim began to question his sanity. he began to question whether he had a death wish as he walked toward another magical abomination. Guilt quickly crushed any thoughts he had of running.
After reaching the side of the massive ball, Jim called for anyone inside and listened intently.
"OverHere.. over here.. Hoer orah aah!" Jim heard a muffled shout.
Stumbling closer to where he heard the sound, Jim did his best not to jostle his left arm, trying to hold it close to his side and ignore the pain as it came.
He heard a much louder, unintelligible scream continue until finally, Jim knew that he was at the correct place. Bring up his sword, feeling the trapped man's desperation, Jim tried to carve a hole in the mangled ball of flesh, weapons, and armor. Managing to break some flesh held together by sticky drying blood, a screaming man's body and a spurt of brown blood were spat out.
Jim saw that the man still had his imperial armor but seemed to have lost his sword somewhere in the ball of flesh. Otherwise, the gore-covered man looked unharmed, but he was still screaming. The bloody man did not attempt to get up and seemed content to squirm and spasm in the blood-covered dirt.
Jim dropped his sword and held his good arm out for the man's body, trying to stop his violent movements before he hurt himself. Jim felt the man's body shake, struggling against him even as he squeezed him into a tight hug. Eventually, the man seemed to lose any fight.
"It's okay, brother. I don't know what foul magic afflicted you, but you can make it. You can survive this. We will make those Varden bastards pay for what they did to you, but first, we must leave. We have to run, brother. I know it's shameful, but that is how we survive to fight again." Jim let go of the man and hobbled with one hand to stand.
The blood-covered man seemed to come back to himself just as Jim managed to stand up. Jim helped him up and to the river edge, where he washed his face with languid movements. Jim could finally see the man's face as he stood up from the water's edge to face him. The man was tall with bright blue eyes like Jim and had curly blonde hair matted with blood and dirt.
"What's your name?"
"Marlan." The man's deep voice was horse from screaming
"My name is Jim. We should leave before The magician that did this returns to ensure we're dead." Jim nodded his head in the direction of the gigantic ball of flesh. Jim ripped some cloth from underneath his chainmail and made a tourniquet for his left arm using his teeth and right hand to tie the knots needed.
"Agreed." Marlan was a man of little words and looked just as Eager as Jim to run.
Jim decisively turned away from the battle and began running, leading Marlan along the river edge. Not much was said between them as the sound of clanging swords and crackling of flames grew more distant.
— End of Jim—
Theodore Watched as the two dragon riders clashed. The sounds of heavy impacts were deafening as two dragons snapped their fangs at each other. Earlier in the fight, Saphira managed to make a deep gouge mark on the red Dragon's left side, causing his movements to become more labored.
Theodore hoovered in the air following the fighting, expertly releasing Avis spells at just the right time to blind the red dragon rider under a shroud of crows, allowing Eragon to deliver several thin blows on the red dragon rider's arms and side his red blade slicing through armor easily. Though the mystery rider seemed to heal quickly using some topaz gemstone, he pressed against his side. Theodore was tempted to simply end the fight with a killing curse, but he knew he could quickly kill the wrong Rider and Dragon as both were in a tangle of limbs and blood.
At the beginning of the fight, Theodore tried to tell Eragon that he could make quick work of the Rider, but his words were brushed aside. Sahpira and her Rider flew incredibly fast, instantly clashing with the enemy rider and his ruby dragon. Theodore hadn't had another chance since then, as their clashes were filled with violent twisting motions through the air. Theodore didn't want to go too close lest he get knocked off his broom. The Wizard was made to keep a healthy distance while keeping the Red dragon in his range.
Theodore was distracted for a fifth time as he felt a multitude of consciousnesses reach for him, unable to break through his occlumency shields. Just as the mental attack came, the red Dragon managed to kick Saphira away before using its more diminutive form to speed toward the Dwarven army's main body, just barely outpacing the blue Dragon, even with his wounded side still gushing blood.
Theodore's broom released violent embers as the Wizard pushed his broom, becoming a blur as he closed in on Saphira. He fired a cutting curse at the Red dragon rider, but the Dragon and Rider seemed to sense this somehow. The red Dragon bowed out of the way just enough that only the tip of its tail and right wings were cut off with a spurt of bright red blood. The Dragon howled in pain but didn't slow down.
Saphira's wings beat hurricanes of wind as she tried to catch up, and just as they were about to clash, the red Dragon fell into a sudden dive. He landed hard, crushing Dwarven soldiers beneath him and buffeting dozens more off their feet.
Theodore quickly noticed where the Rider had landed. He saw the Dwarven king fall off his feet, and his guards and attendant mages joined him on the ground.
Theodore knew that he had only seconds and sped up, overcoming Saphira. His broom released a storm of embers as he tried to intercept the red dragon rider before he could attempt to kill the Dwarven king. Theodore sent a killing curse toward The Dragon's Rider, but The black armored figure twisted out of the way at just the right time.
The red Rider, noticing him, released a red crackling spell toward the dwarven king and another that reached toward Theodore like a homing missile. The Wizard quickly deflected the magic heavy red bolt with the tip of his black wand and threw it into the smog-filled sky. Still, it cost him precious seconds, preventing him from interfering with the second spell.
The red bolt of magic struck the king, slaughtering him and his Magicians as they attempted to block it. Hrothgar fell over dead instantly with a sizable hole in his chest. Dwarves cried out in anguish at their king's passing as if they were the ones struck by a red bolt of magic. Many began shrieking incomprehensible curses as a group carried the king's body away from the battle.
Saphira released a challenging roar as she hovered over the red Dragon, unwilling to fight the Dragon over the dwarven host. Theodore shook his head in disappointment but recognized the problem, so with a flick of his wand, he used a spell. The red Rider couldn't resist, causing him to fly into the air. The red Dragon quickly launched itself in a desperate attempt to catch its precious Rider.
Theodore, however, increased the power of the spell holding the freefalling Rider, causing the screaming armored figure to fly even faster toward a hill away from the main battle before he released his hold on its magic. The Dragon wasn't nearly fast enough to catch his Rider. The black armored figure quickly impacted the ground, causing dust to fill the air. The ruby red dragon, desperate, now flew faster than ever before to check on its Rider.
Eragon, Saphira, and Theodore followed closely behind and watched with amazement as the Rider managed to stand unharmed from his crater. Theodore watches the red Dragon as it finally reaches the location of his Rider and lands gently by his side. The Dragon's snout nestles the Rider, and the armored figure hugs the red Dragon's snout tightly to calm his Dragon. Theodore might have seen it as touching if the Rider hadn't brutally slaughtered the dwarven monarch. Theodore had no mercy on his mind, and it seemed Saphira agreed.
Saphira let loose a burst of blue fire at the red Dragon and its Rider. Theodore watched a plume of flame as hot as any magical cursed fire spray at the enemy rider, cloaking their forms fully for several minutes. Theodore would have been convinced the two had finally died if he hadn't felt their magic still flowing strongly, even under the flames. When Saphira stopped, Theodore saw both Rider and Dragon still totally unscathed.
Theodore had had enough. He began conjuring spears of fire blotting out the sky with orange plasma Before launching them at the still-grounded Rider and Dragon. Desperate to save its Rider, the red Dragon knocked him over and covered his armored form with its house-sized body.
Spears of fire lanced through the Red Dragon, and several dozen pinned its wings to the ground, burning large holes the size of a kull's fist in the translucent membrane the Dragon used to fly. Others impaled its legs to the ground or pinned its tail, breaking through wards on the Dragon's non-vital areas as if they didn't exist.
Not all the Rider's wards were so easily broken.
Thick, dense wards with some physical aspect cushioned his flaming spears like catching cotton, covering the Dragon's vital portions long enough to slow the spears he sent before sections of that protection disappeared. The ward that the Rider used seemed to be sectioned off into hexagonal pieces as the flaming spears destroyed only portions of his ward rather than the whole, something Theodore found curious. Eobard had never heard of such a ward structure.
"ENOUGH!" The Rider let out a thunderous shout that caused Theodore to hold his ears in pain. The red Rider said some word in the ancient language, and Theodore felt magic instantaneously reach toward him, intending to freeze any movement he could make. With much more effort than he used when thwarting Arya's magic, Theodore managed to smother its intent.
With some exertion of his considerable magic, the Rider quickly extinguished Theodore's fire spears, stopping the Dragon from getting further internal burns. The lances were self-cauterizing but left the Dragon with third-degree burns that expanded into the surrounding tissue wherever they touched. The Dragon gave a soft roar as he fell off his Rider, allowing the armored figure to struggle to his feet.
Theodore looked to the side and saw that Eragon and his house-sized Dragon were frozen in the air. Saphira was frozen mid-flap a few meters off the ground.
Theodore turned his attention to the Red dragon rider, looking at Theodore in shock and confusion, "You can't hold that long, can you."
Theodore landed his broom and stashed it in his moleskin pouch. The Wizard walked toward the Dragon rider whose forehead veins violently pulsed.
"You know I find you impressive. Under the pursuit of a dragon rider and archmage, you somehow managed to kill a dwarven monarch. Impressive, I must say, but I think it's time for you to go."
The red dragon rider could feel boundless magic reach for him and felt a suffocating feeling grow with each step the Wizard took closer. Feeling his Rider's distress, the red Dragon turned its head, still unable to move parts of its burned body, and released a gout of fire in Theodore's direction from its place on the ground.
Theodore parted the flame as it reached him and continued to walk toward the Rider even as the flame tried to push him back. The ground melted around the Wizard, but Theodore made sure to transfigure solid ground beneath him as he made his way closer. Unable to see through the Dragon's plume of fire, he pushed forward straight until the red Dragon ran out of fuel for his fire.
Theodore fired an overpowered, incarcerous charm, forcefully imagining the formation of chains around the red Dragon's snout. Theodore could hear its grunts of pain as black chains of impossible density and strength wrapped their way around the red Dragon's snout quickly and continued down its body, pulling its severely burned arms, wings, and hindlegs together until the Dragon was bound and helpless.
The Dragon's Rider didn't just stand idle as the Wizard ensnared his Dragon. In desperation, He released Eragon and Saphira and pulled a black diamond from his belt. He cast a wordless beam of black energy at Theodore before Saphira could beat her wings once.
Feeling a heavy sense of danger, Theodore managed to block the energy beam filled with dark magic with a shield of transfigured silver. Still, he was caught off guard by the force behind it. The Wizard heard heavy metal grinding as his armored boots carved grooves in the ground as he was pushed back.
The Wizard's shield strained and cracked but held as the necromantic beam parted around him, but the black magic wasn't done; as it parted around Theodore's shield, it corrupted the ground surrounding him. Speckles of black magic touched the ground, and black goo stuck full of sharp needles erupted behind the Wizard, reaching for Theodore.
The Wizard could taste something familiar in the magic as it reached for him. It tasted of a fae world he had visited once before. One that contained magic having to do with death. Theodore, familiar with how magic black goo would interact with him even while armored, didn't hesitate to use fiend fire.
Theodore heard tortured screaming as the black goo was burned. The fiend fire changed and warped from green to black, leaving necromantic scars on the earth. Theodore quickly repressed the cursed fire to nothing as if railed against his control.
Theodore felt powerful anger take root as he recovered his breath. His armor was immune against fiend fire, but the Rider's magic was worse than any cursed fire. It was of the same family branch as the killing curse. Magic that fed on death itself
He could feel the purpose behind the spell to corrupt armor, skin, and bones into nonfunctional sinister creations. Theodore did not know how Galbatorix had gotten such magic, but Theodore decided there and then that he would have to be killed before this information could spread.
Death magic of this variety could never become commonplace, or this world would fall. It drew its magic from the souls of the innocent tortured and warped beyond measure to create a contagious and corrupting source.
Theodore knew he could not let someone with such knowledge continue living as learning it meant mucking about with souls, something that never ended well, at least not for the uneducated. This Rider needed to be taught a lesson for using something so foul against him.
He pulled the remaining necrotic energy from the ground to ensure it would not gain a foothold. He allowed the earth around him to repair itself. Theodore knew something was wrong: this Rider was pulling energy from a source. The Rider hadn't even exhausted himself holding Eragon and Saphira aloft, something beyond most magicians of this world. Even now, he was fighting Eragon with his sword in hand full of vigor.
Theodore watched as the red dragon rider's black armored figure moved with unnatural quickness, overpowering Eragon with pure strength and speed as they dueled. Through magic sight, the Wizard saw something that confounded him.
The black Rider pushed magic through his limbs, enhancing his strength and speed beyond what should be possible. The black armored figure likely would have made quick work of Eragon despite his elven strength if he wasn't content to play with him.
He was knocking him aside, waiting for him to get up before repeating the same action again. The black rider was a bully, and Theodore could see he was enjoying inflicting pain. But that wasn't what caught Theodore's attention.
Despite training under Galbatorix, the black Rider used magic Eobard had never seen in this world. It was something Theodore knew well, though, and could even use. Fortifying your body with magic was a powerful means of increasing speed, strength, and durability.
At some point, Saphira had become entangled in the same web of magic the enemy rider had used before. Without her help, Eragon was utterly humiliated and thrown from one side of the field to the other.
Theodore decided to break the stalemate. He released a sickly yellow cruciatus curse toward the enemy rider. The spell passed by Eragon's right side and struck the red dragon rider straight in the sternum, causing his wards to shatter audibly like glass before the black armored figure could react. The magic holding Saphira cut off, allowing her to move closer to her Rider.
Looking between the Wizard and the red Rider's writhing form, Eragon seemed stunned. Theodore ignored Eragon as he cast his spell again, causing the red Rider to let loose a tortured scream as he felt one thousand white-hot knives boring into his skin.
"Stop, Theodore," Eragon said as he walked toward the Wizard's sword in hand.
"No, he needs to learn there is some magic he shouldn't use. I am training him the hard way," Theodore casts Crucio again, releasing some of his anger with it, causing the black-armored figure to unleash an even more raw scream. Saphira let loose a low growl but didn't interfere.
"I said stop." Eragon's voice was cold as he pointed his sword at Theodore.
The Wizard barely gave it thought before he wandlessly disarmed the Rider while continuing his casting of Crucio.
"Please, I think I know who he is." Disarmed, Eragon begged the Wizard to stop as he continued to hear the red Rider's unbearable screaming.
Theodore finally stopped. Eragon walked over to the red Rider, removed his black helm, and gasped.
"Murtagh."
Theodore looked at Eragon in confusion as the Red Dragon rider rolled on his side, his body still in pain. Murtagh lets out a wicked chuckle, "recognized me, did you." Murtagh spit blood and rose to his feet," I wish you had rec…"
Theodore Threw a magic curse, cutting off whatever Murtagh was about to say. The spell sank into Murtagh's chest, burning a hole through his armor and making him fall to the ground once again, racked with even worse metaphysical pain as the curse engraved a bloody spiral pattern on his skin the breadth of a hand over his heart.
"What are you doing!" Eragon screamed, giving Theodore a death stare.
"I'm getting the sense he was your friend at some point?"
Eragon nodded as he gave Theodore a death glare, "he was like a brother to me before we thought he died at the battle of Farthen Dûr."
"Well, needless to say, he isn't your friend now. He has killed royalty, and that will have consequences. I don't know what he meant to you in the past, but we are fighting a battle right now. I just sealed his magic. He'll be fine."
Eragon looked conflicted before nodding, "We still need information from him. Will he be able to speak?"
Theodore nodded as he stood with his arms crossed, waiting for Murtagh's cries of pain to subside. The Rider had a nice set of lungs on him. Theodore was almost sure all the men of the burning plains heard his screams. It took several more minutes for Murtagh to regain the ability to talk.
"What did you do to me? I feel so weak." Murtagth crawled on all fours toward the Wizard, "Please undo it. I can't go back. I can't be helpless please….please…please not again… you don't understand what he will do."
Theodore ignored Murtagh's rambling cries for help, reached into his moleskin pouch, and pulled out several potions.
"Help me, Eragon." The Rider seemed lost in thought but held Murtagh still at Theodore's prompting as he poured three potions down his gullet. A calming tonic for rational interrogation, a truth potion to ensure this Rider didn't lie, and a brew that dulled the senses so he could not take advantage of the loopholes in only being able to tell the truth.
"You can ask him what you want now, Eragon." Theodore conjured a chair strong enough to hold him in full armor without breaking and settled in to watch.
Eragon went on for nearly half an hour asking questions about how Murtagh had managed to survive the tunnels under Farthen Dûr, how he had become so powerful so quickly, and why he killed the dwarven king.
Murtagh, unable to stop himself, spilled his guts about everything. The twins betrayed Varden and learned about Murtagh's connection to Eragon. The two apparently had the same mother, and Morzan was both of their fathers. The name meant nothing to Theodore, but Eobard knew him as one of the Thirteen foresworn. The Evil dragon riders that had killed the rest along with Galbatorix.
When the twins discovered that connection, they took him straight to Galbatorix, who gave Murtagh an egg, which quickly hatched for him. Galbatorix then broke Murtagh's mind and tortured him before the king press-ganged him into his service using his true name. After hearing that, Theodore felt a bit bad for him. He resolved to obliviate him of the knowledge about death magic instead of killing him.
Galbatorix had used dark magic to make Murtagh physically stronger and grow his dragon thorn until it became almost adult-sized. Galbatorix then took him under his wing, teaching him the darkest of magic but not death magic, at least not at first.
Murtagh became useless when questioned about death magic and other things relating to Galbatorix, specifically about four days before Theodore arrived. Theodore discovered that Galbatorix knew of him almost the instant he had made his presence known to the Varden. Murtagh, however, couldn't tell him why or how the king learned of him or why he cared so much. Theodore resolved himself to rip it from his mind later.
When asked why he killed the king, Murtagh revealed that one of the king's objectives was to seed chaos in the Varden ranks. So, Murtagh had determined the best way to do that was to kill the Dwarven king. Theodore knew he wasn't wrong. Dwarves made up a sizable portion of the Varden's army.
Then Murtagh explained why he was so magically and mentally powerful. It was something that Theodore would have never expected. Dragons had magic hearts, which were like magical generators. After being expelled from the Dragon, they created constant magical energy. Murtagh had a stash full of them hidden in Thorn's saddle bag.
Dragons within their heart of hearts could retain their consciousness. They could return to it after their bodies' death, similar to a Horcrux. Theodore was honestly shocked at this revelation, and so was Eragon. He had never been told, even by Saphira, as she had promised their mysterious teachers not to reveal this to him.
With the mystery behind the riders' fall revealed Theodore turned his attention to Murtagh.
"What do you think we should do with him, Eragon."
Eragon glared at Theodore, obviously still angry at the torture the Wizard had committed not an hour before.
"We must bring him in front of the leaders of the Varden to be judged," Eragon said, his voice bitter. Eragon turned and looked at Murtagh with pity, "I can only hope they don't order his execution."
Theodore looked at the battle below and saw it was in its final act. The Varden was slaughtering frightened, scattered Empire soldiers who had lost all organization. The dwarves, in a fit of righteous rage, followed the Empire's forces even as they began to fall into full retreat.
"We must call a wagon of some kind for Thorn. You alert Nasuada that we have defeated The red Dragon and its Rider. I will keep them contained and protected for her judgment."
Eragon looked at him with suspicion but nodded. He climbed onto Saphira and flew off, eager to find out the results of the battle. Theodore stood from his chair before vanishing it.
"Now for you." the drugged-out dragon rider and Helpless red Dragon could do nothing as Theodore walked closer, pointing his black wand at the Rider's head, "Obliviate,"
It wouldn't do to have death magic become something widespread. Theodore ripped any knowledge of that forbidden magic from his head, along with bits and pieces of the torture Galbatorix inflicted on the young Rider. Theodore wasn't heartless; besides, without that torture clouding his thoughts, Murtagh likely would become more sane. More useful. Theodore sent Murtagh into unconsciousness to stop his drugged rambling and bound him in magical ropes.
Theodore took the black diamond Murtagh had used to cast his black beam and put it away in his bottomless pouch. Theodore was unwilling to free whatever souls had been trapped inside all at once or immediately, as that would likely cause a massive explosion and would likely cause the spread of more exotic magical corruption.
Ignoring the stunned Rider, he walked over to the Red Dragon. Looking into the injured Dragon's eyes, he broke through its formidable mental shields built upon impossibly strong hate. He found where the Dragon's many hearts lay.
Walking to the Dragon's side saddle, he reached in, clutched one of the Eldunarí, and held the jewel before him, admiring how the light gluttered off it. Theodore could feel it attempting to reach for his mind, but with a flash of red, it fell into a slumber. Theodore stashed his new jewel in the small moleskin pouch at his belt.
Theodore walked to the Dragon's head once more and saw intense hate in the red Dragon's eyes. The Dragon strained against the black chains that covered it in a final attempt to kill the Wizard. Theodore didn't bother to respond as it succumbed to its wounds and fell still with blinding pain.
"Why do you hate me so."
Curiosity struck Theodore. The Wizard had known dragons were intelligent. It was something Eobard knew well. Something Galbatorix spoke of often during his lessons. The red Dragon was an intelligent creature, but its anger was all he could feel when he touched its mind.
Theodore crouched, meeting, meeting the Dragon's dinner plate red pupil.
"Show me why you are so angry. Legimens." Theodore was pulled into the Dragon's mind. The Wizard let the slide show run.
There was a crack, and then there was light. Before he could see where he was and understand what he was, he saw a face framed by black hair. He was small then, so he looked up with wonder at grey eyes that looked back at him in awe.
He felt a feeling build up in his chest. As his tiny heart beat harder and faster, he walked closer to the tall man with grey eyes. He felt a strange anticipation as if the world was expecting.
The man reached out, and an ice-cold river passed between them. The grey-eyed one fell, eyes closed now. He felt warmth and comfort as he flapped his tiny wings and settled on the grey eyes chest. This was where he belonged. He could feel it. It felt right. A. hum passed between them as he felt a bond form.
The Grey-eyed one woke up and looked down at him in shock, and suddenly, he could see double. He could see himself. He was red and shiny. He didn't look at all like grey eyes. He didn't have grey eyes, black hair, or pale skin. The grey eyes saw him, felt him, and was shocked. Suddenly, he knew what he was: he was a dragon. Grey eyes touched him, and a warm shock went through his scale. He pressed his snout into grey eyes, raw hand.
He looked at grey eyes, felt joy at their connection, and then felt pain. Pain he was taken from grey eyes chained and beaten. They fed him vile black things, each tasting worse than the next.
He waited to see grey eyes again to talk to him. He could still feel the river of ice they shared. He waited, and a man with red hair came. The Pain and Knowledge. He had learned words, understood what he was, and had things crammed into his head. Murtagh, it was many meals before he and his Rider met again.
When they met again, he didn't feel anything but hate. He wanted to rip and tear at his Rider despite knowing he would feel his pain. His chains fell away, and he lunged at grey eyes. He bit his hand and tasted his blood; grey eyes let him. He felt angry. He wanted a fight. He looked up at Murtagh's grey eyes. He could feel his pain, and Grey Eye's mind wrapped around him.
He understood Murtagh's pain. It was something they shared. He felt warmth for the first time since birth, knowing he wasn't alone. The Dragon and Murtagh melded and became almost one, and he knew who he was and what he was to the Rider. A Thorn in his side used to give him pain. That was the name he chose, Thorn.
Soon, the shade of red hair stopped coming, and Thorn could see Murtagh more. It was no less torture. There was no less pain. Thorn hated the world; that was all he had ever felt: hate.
Theodore watched as the red Dragon's unhealthy bond with its Rider grew and how Galbatoix had changed before he had sent them to the battle of the burning plains. All this had been irrelevant to Thorn. The young Dragon even now had nothing in his mind but burning the world and killing everything in it.
Theodore felt pity well up in his heart for the Dragon. The youngling Galbatoix had corrupted. Thorn needed a mind healer badly.
Sadly, it wasn't a discipline Theodore had ever studied. Still, perhaps there was something else he could do for the Dragon to lessen its hate, even if just a little. Theodore walked over to Murtagh. Sighing at the stupidity of what he was about to do. Pulling on the magic swirl over his heart, he tugged at the magic strings so their effect would be temporary rather than permanent. He was allowing the scar to deflate and scar itself rather than continuously pour blood.
The Thorn's intelligent eyes knew what he had done. Theodore would let him keep that knowledge.
Without a second thought, Theodore obliviated the Dragon of any knowledge of death magic. He plucked from its head any knowledge of the Eldunari he decided to steal. It wouldn't do for the red Dragon to tell someone he had taken one of its hearts. With that done, the Thorn joined Murtagh in the land of dreams, and the Wizard settled in to wait.