21 Chapter 21

Seething rage unlike any he has felt before in either of his lives pulses through Eragon's body, the sound of his heartbeat thumping in his ears. His grip on the basin hardens even further, causing cracks to form in the stone. The basin cannot hold under the stress and shatters, the water inside hovers in the air suspended by Eragon's magic.

Unbenounced to him, his eyes are glowing a piercing blue and a palpable aura of power rolls off him in waves. Just before he starts to lose control of himself, memories start to play back in his head like a slideshow. He sees Garrow tending to his flowers in their garden at home, a slight smile gracing his features. Next he sees Brom watching him as he does his standard workout routine, a soft, reassuring smile adorns his face as well. Then he sees Roran and himself wrestling in the grass, the results of his training since his reincarnation making him win the fight against his elder sibling only by a small margin. 

The stream of happy memories calms him down slowly but surely. The glow in his eyes fades and his aura recedes back into his body. Before canceling the scrying spell, he takes a closer look at Roran's left arm to get a better idea of what happened. As if answering his query, Gertrude removes the bandages on his arm, revealing a clean cut just below the elbow. The wound appears to have been cauterized with intense heat in order to save his life, but he has lost a lot of blood so it's in the air if he will survive. As she is wrapping up his arm in new bandages, Eragon looks at Roran's face and wills with all his being that he survives. He has only really known them for half a year but Roran, Garrow, and Brom are the first and only true family he has ever had. 

Having seen enough, he cancels the spell, the water falls to the floor, splashing onto the smooth stone. Eragon absentmindedly walks over to the bed and sits down, his mind in a daze. He feels Saphira's emotions through their connection, her sadness a reflection of his own. He finds comfort in her presence in his mind and takes a few deep breaths to calm himself down. 

"Calm yourself, Eragon" Saphira says softly through their mental link. "He is still alive, you still have the opportunity to help him. Use that brain of yours to think of a solution."

Eragon calms down sufficiently enough to have cohesive thoughts once more. "Roran… Is there anything I can do from here to help you? Come on Eragon, think…" Eragon balls his left hand into a fist and smacks his forehead repeatedly. "I got it! I can use the item sending spell, the one that Arya used to send me the egg, to send Roran something. Like a healing potion or..." 

As Eragon's mind swirls with ways to save his brother's life, he stands up and walks to the door. Exiting the room, he finds Brom with a worried look striding through the hall towards him. 

"Eragon… What in the nine hells was that? All of Tronjheim felt that burst of magic that was coming from your room a moment ago." 

Eragon rubs the back of his head sheepishly. "I used the scrying spell on Roran and saw him on death's door with his left arm cut off just below the elbow. I got so angry and my magic seemed to respond to my emotions. I am fine now but I need to hurry and prepare to use the item sending spell. I can send him medicine and maybe an enchanted item that can help heal him." 

Brom walks up to him and places his hand on his shoulder. "Then let's get to work. You prepare whatever enchanted item you want to send to him and I will get the medicine." 

"Thanks dad, I will work on that right now. Meet me back here when you have the medicine." 

Brom gives Eragon a reassuring nod before running off down the hallway. Eragon turns around and walks back into his room, shutting the door behind him. Behind a corner in the hallway, the Twins start walking away from the area, ear to ear malicious grins on their faces… 

Eragon walks over to his backpack and grabs some of his spare metals that he keeps for his experiments and molds it into the shape of a ring. He then takes a small opal from his belt and sets it in place. This gem is currently storing about five days worth of his mana generation which will definitely be overkill but Eragon doesn't care at the moment. He double and triple checks the enchantments he wants to place on it before doing so, taking him over an hour to finish it to his satisfaction. Even with his mediocre knowledge of medical practice, he can still make an enchanted ring that can identify very specific ailments of the wearer and heal said ailment. The main features are red and white blood cell replenishment and enhancement, pain relief, and some others that all coalesce into a powerful healing effect that should be able to save Roran's life. A few minutes after he finishes the enchantment, Brom lightly knocks on the door and walks in with a metal box in his arms. 

"Here Eragon, this box has the medical herbs inside and can easily withstand the turbulence of the sending spell. Gertrude will have to make the poultice herself as the finished product is too fragile for this kind of transport. Once you are ready, place your item inside and cast the spell. Remember, create an accurate picture of where you want to send it when you cast the spell otherwise it might be sent miles away from him." 

Eragon nods and walks up to the box, placing the ring safely inside. Seeing the ring, Brom looks at him questioningly. 

"Why did you make a ring for someone who is now missing a hand?"

Eragon freezes in place, his brain buffering as he contemplates what Brom said. A moment later Eragon slaps his forehead, leaving a red imprint of his hand on it. 

"I am so stupid... Oh well, it's already far too late to make something else. I will just put this note I wrote with instructions on it inside the box for Gertrude to read."

As Eragon goes to put the note inside the box, Brom swipes it from his hands. He looks at the note with a quizzical gaze. 

"Eragon… This note is written in the ancient language. No one from Carvahall can read it."

"Well I didn't have much of a choice. You taught me how to read and write in the ancient language but not human writing."

°–°

Now it's Brom's turn to realize his shortcomings in Eragon's training, causing him to slap his forehead as well. 

"Where is your ink and quill? I will rewrite it for you."

Eragon points towards the desk in the room with a bundle of parchment and a few ink bottles that he purchased in Teirm. Brom quickly rewrites the note then places it in the box. With the box fully prepped for delivery, Eragon creates a clear mental image of the room that Roran was in before casting the spell. With a flash of blue light the box vanishes, hopefully appearing at its intended destination. 

Just to be safe, Eragon fixes the basin and recasts the scrying spell. He sees the box is now there on the floor next to Roran with a frightened Gertrude staring at it. Slowly she walks up to the box and hesitantly opens it, revealing the note, medical herbs, and enchanted ring. She reads the note for a moment before grabbing the ring and placing it on Roran's pointer finger on his right hand. The gem starts to glow a faint pink color as the enchantments activate. She then grabs the herbs and inspects them thoroughly, surprise evident in her features as she looks between the note and the herbs. A fierce determination lights up in her eyes as she takes the herbs over to a small table and begins preparing the medicine.

Meanwhile, Roran is slowly being healed by the enchanted ring. His labored breathing starts to calm down, his erratic heartbeat slowly evening out into a smooth rhythm, and color returns to his skin. Eragon exhales in relief and flops down onto his bed. As he lays there, the fatigue of his magic use over the past hour finally hits him and he passes out on the spot. Brom runs up to him with a worried expression before realizing he has just passed out from exhaustion. He smiles warmly at his son before covering him in a blanket and leaving the room. 

…

With a jolt, Eragon's eyes open and he finds himself drifting through the clouds with a stellar view of the landscape below. The calm sky and gentle breeze give a sense of comfort and security to him that he has not felt in a long time. He lazily floats through the air for what feels like days before he feels the air shift around him. The winds pick up speed, whisking him away towards the west. Panic starts to set in as the winds spin him around, twisting his body and giving him intense vertigo.

Just as abruptly as they started the winds vanish entirely, leaving Eragon to flail his arms to get some semblance of control of his orientation in the air. A few deep breaths and a little effort and he rights himself.

Looking around he sees the western coast of Alagaesia, the town of Teirm just below him. The beautiful sunset over the ocean highlighting a massive army of ships that seem to encompass the entire coast. The ships appear to be made of a pale white wood with bronze plates that protect the hull. The town is currently being besieged by millions of flaming arrows from the ships, the arrows lighting aflame the houses and the ships in the harbor. 

Eragon watches in horror as Teirm is burned to the ground, the smoke seems to wrap around him, suffocating him. He wills the smoke to clear and it does, revealing the ships that are currently landing on the coast, a large group of armored warriors disembarking and marching towards the city. Looking at the warriors, Eragon gets a strange sense of Deja vu, as if he has seen these warriors before. The warriors are covered in bronze and cloth armor with a majority of them wielding pikes and spears. They are also carrying large shields that are about as tall as their bodies, and small compact bows. Their skin is either a pale yellow or olive color and they appear to be human. 

As Eragon watches the massacre unfold, a man clad in pitch black armor with a massive great sword on his back walks off the largest ship and towards the city, the warriors clearing a path for him as he strides forth. The man walks as if he is shouldering a heavy burden, his feet leaving impact craters in the dirt. He walks through the streets of the city, his menacing aura permeating the very air around him, causing the few remaining citizens that the warriors have rounded up to grovel at his feet. He looks upon the survivors for a moment before motioning with his right hand to the warriors. Having understood the man's signal, the warriors kill the remaining citizens with a complete lack of remorse or pity. The man in the black armor seems to revel in the feeling of carnage around him before he swiftly turns and looks up into the sky. The man locks eyes with Eragon just as he feels the wind start to drag him away again. But Eragon will never forget those eyes… Those bright blue eyes that seem to stare into his very soul…