So this is a short story that I wrote for my Honors English I class, and I thought maybe some members here might like to read it. Please be warned though, it contains spoilers from the end of the book Eldest, which is the second book in the Inheritance Cycle.
*Note: the main character I used of this story is completely my own creation. Also, when magic is used, please assume it is spoken in the ancient language. Not only do I have little knowledge of Paolini's made up language, and I also want the reader to understand what is being said.
Byrn awoke at the first rays of dawn; the moans of the poisoned soldiers had finally died down. So today may finally be it he thought to himself. He brought himself off the cot that served as his bed and began to prepare, putting on his clothes and the small amount of armor as was customary for magicians. Then he put all the wards around his mind that he could risk, making sure to block it as well as possible from whatever attack the Varden’s magicians may try. Those fools, they not only are idiotic enough to go against King Galbotorix, but also to poison our soldiers. They have no idea what wrath they have unleashed upon themselves. Byrn grimaced, his thoughts going to how he had felt just the day before. How could I even dare to think that the Varden might be the right side?
The day before, Byrn had been going around the camp, surveying the soldiers and searching for any possible threats or dangers. The conditions of parts of the camp were all around adequate, though they certainly hadn’t gone to any extent to make it comfortable. The thoughts of some of the soldiers had surprised him; many had reservation about invading Surda, especially now that the country’s army had come to meet them along with the Varden. A few of them, he suspected, might have also been considering running away, though when they saw him coming their minds suspiciously change subject to their socks. But for some reason, the thoughts had an effect on Byrn, an effect that he couldn’t quite understand. Later that day he had been sitting around his tent, and had felt a serious urge to leave, perhaps even try to join the Varden. But no, they showed how honorable and just they were when they poisoned our men, killing some who were as innocent as a soldier could be. King Galbatorix is right to want them eradicated.
Just then, the alarm was sounded, Byrn turned to face the Varden’s camp, and coming out of the dense fog that had settled on the Burning Plains was their army. At their lead were the dragon rider and his great blue dragon. So it begins thought Byrn as he made sure all his wards were still intact. He began to open his conscious, and gradually he was able to sense dozens, then hundreds, then thousands of the Empire’s soldier’s minds, along with his fellow mages. Then the Empire’s army began to advance, and very quickly the two armies clashed. As Byrn was joined by the soldiers chosen to guard him, he dispatched five of Surda’s soldiers with one spell.
“Freeze!” he said in the ancient language, and watched as a soldier froze from the inside. As more foes advanced on him, he was constantly shouting spells. He smote three men with one simple uttering of the word “Fire”. As the minutes wore on, he could already feel his energy had been drained considerably for being so early into the battle. I need to be more conservative, or my own spell will be the end of me. At that instant, one of his guards was killed by an arrow through the neck, while the other was gored by a young swordsman. Byrn, thinking quickly, grabbed the sword from the corpse of one of his guards and killed the young man. I can’t linger here; it will be the death of me. He trudged forth, slaying men with both sword and spell, feeling more exhausted by the second. Blast it! This is why I needed those guards, to protect me when I needed to regain energy! Quite a few times he heard the roar of the Rider’s dragon; it was a terrible, ear numbing roar. It must be very enraged, Byrn thought, shuddering from the idea of facing an angry dragon.
Suddenly, he felt the presence of another mind, and out of the corner of his eye he saw what he assumed to be one of the Varden’s magicians, and a quick scan with his mind confirmed his suspicion. Trying to be as stealthy as possible, he attempted to get behind his new foe. However, the man was too intelligent to fall for such an obvious trick, and he sent a small blast of fire at Byrn.
“Shield me!” Byrn shouted, stopping the fire mere inches from his body. “Restrict,” he said, paralyzing the man. Byrn walked up to him, and just as he was about to finish it with a blow from his sword, the man broke free and uttered a spell of his own.
“Drain his energy!” the man shouted, and instantly Byrn could feel his stamina start to go down. I have to end this quickly, he thought. Mustering up all the energy he could sacrifice he uttered a spell.
“Release me!” Byrn screamed the words so loud that they made his throat feel sore and raw. Then he felt the drain on his energy lessen, he turned his eyes to the Varden’s mage. The man was momentarily in shock, and Byrn took what might be his only chance. Stepping forward he thrust his sword into the mage’s abdomen and watched as he crumpled to the ground. A look of terror was etched into the man’s face and he fell with a blood curdling scream.
Now he could hear the cries of Surda’s army, dwarves had apparently arrived to help. We need to finish this soon or they may just turn this around. He continued blasting and slashing at his enemies, letting none escape his grasp. His ferocity came at a price, though; his body now literally ached from exhaustion. Not once did he fight another magician, however he sensed the Dragon Rider fly over head twice, once towards the Jiet River, and once back. It was just a short while after the Rider returned from the river when he heard a bellowing, vicious roar from behind him. A red dragon burst from their camp, flying into the sky. On it was a rider, who shot a blast of magic onto the battle field a few hundred yards to his right. Byrn snapped out of his entrancement just in time to block an arrow from embedding itself in his chest.
Above him, Byrn heard the two dragons clash, but he continued on, every spell and slash of his blade causing him to tire even more. Slash to his right, a spell aimed at an archer thirty feet away, a swift dodge of an axe swung at his left side. So the battle continued on the ground as the deafening roars of the dragons overhead signified the battle taking place above. Eventually, Byrn had curl up behind a rock to regain his energy. He turned his attention to the dragons now. He watched as the rider of the blue dragon leapt from his saddle and plummeted towards the red dragon. Byrn just barely saw the light glance off the blade of the falling rider as he slashed at his opponent’s dragon. Then he continued falling, and for a second it looked as if he might fall to his death, but finally his dragon came to catch him. Both dragons descended onto a plateau, now almost completely hidden from view where he was crouching. Not able to stay there much longer, Byrn got up and resumed his attack. I am weakening; there is no way I can continue like this. Despite his ever growing fatigue, he continued on.
A Varden swordsman rushed Byrn from behind, crushing his shoulder plate and opening a gash on his left arm. Surprised and weakened, he was struck twice more before he could parry one of the swordsman’s blows. It took all of his might to utter the words “Break his sword”; and as he watched the swordsman’s blade shatter, Byrn fell to his knees letting out an exasperated sigh. It was a few seconds after this that the red dragon departed from the plateau and just a while later when the Empire’s retreat signal was sounded. Through pure will and determination, Byrn half stumbled, half crawled towards the camp.
However, his effort was in vain. A lone archer stood not ten feet behind him; though Byrn no longer had his mind extended out and could not sense the archer. Silently, the archer strung one of his three remaining arrows, pulled back, took aim, and released. Noiselessly, the arrow found its mark, burying itself deep in Byrn’s back. Byrn felt a searing pain as the arrow entered, and he could feel it as it pierced his heart. No… I was… so close… He stood there for a few seconds, and tried to say “Heal me”. However, the attempted spell drained the last of his strength, and Byrn stumbled forward and fell dead upon the ground.
So this is a short story that I wrote for my Honors English I class, and I thought maybe some members here might like to read it. Please be warned though, it contains spoilers from the end of the book Eldest, which is the second book in the Inheritance Cycle.
*Note: the main character I used of this story is completely my own creation. Also, when magic is used, please assume it is spoken in the ancient language. Not only do I have little knowledge of Paolini's made up language, and I also want the reader to understand what is being said.
So yep, if you are interested, please continue:
_________________________________________________________________________
Eldest
The Storm Breaks: The Other Side
Byrn awoke at the first rays of dawn; the moans of the poisoned soldiers had finally died down. So today may finally be it he thought to himself. He brought himself off the cot that served as his bed and began to prepare, putting on his clothes and the small amount of armor as was customary for magicians. Then he put all the wards around his mind that he could risk, making sure to block it as well as possible from whatever attack the Varden’s magicians may try. Those fools, they not only are idiotic enough to go against King Galbotorix, but also to poison our soldiers. They have no idea what wrath they have unleashed upon themselves. Byrn grimaced, his thoughts going to how he had felt just the day before. How could I even dare to think that the Varden might be the right side?
The day before, Byrn had been going around the camp, surveying the soldiers and searching for any possible threats or dangers. The conditions of parts of the camp were all around adequate, though they certainly hadn’t gone to any extent to make it comfortable. The thoughts of some of the soldiers had surprised him; many had reservation about invading Surda, especially now that the country’s army had come to meet them along with the Varden. A few of them, he suspected, might have also been considering running away, though when they saw him coming their minds suspiciously change subject to their socks. But for some reason, the thoughts had an effect on Byrn, an effect that he couldn’t quite understand. Later that day he had been sitting around his tent, and had felt a serious urge to leave, perhaps even try to join the Varden. But no, they showed how honorable and just they were when they poisoned our men, killing some who were as innocent as a soldier could be. King Galbatorix is right to want them eradicated.
Just then, the alarm was sounded, Byrn turned to face the Varden’s camp, and coming out of the dense fog that had settled on the Burning Plains was their army. At their lead were the dragon rider and his great blue dragon. So it begins thought Byrn as he made sure all his wards were still intact. He began to open his conscious, and gradually he was able to sense dozens, then hundreds, then thousands of the Empire’s soldier’s minds, along with his fellow mages. Then the Empire’s army began to advance, and very quickly the two armies clashed. As Byrn was joined by the soldiers chosen to guard him, he dispatched five of Surda’s soldiers with one spell.
“Freeze!” he said in the ancient language, and watched as a soldier froze from the inside. As more foes advanced on him, he was constantly shouting spells. He smote three men with one simple uttering of the word “Fire”. As the minutes wore on, he could already feel his energy had been drained considerably for being so early into the battle. I need to be more conservative, or my own spell will be the end of me. At that instant, one of his guards was killed by an arrow through the neck, while the other was gored by a young swordsman. Byrn, thinking quickly, grabbed the sword from the corpse of one of his guards and killed the young man. I can’t linger here; it will be the death of me. He trudged forth, slaying men with both sword and spell, feeling more exhausted by the second. Blast it! This is why I needed those guards, to protect me when I needed to regain energy! Quite a few times he heard the roar of the Rider’s dragon; it was a terrible, ear numbing roar. It must be very enraged, Byrn thought, shuddering from the idea of facing an angry dragon.
Suddenly, he felt the presence of another mind, and out of the corner of his eye he saw what he assumed to be one of the Varden’s magicians, and a quick scan with his mind confirmed his suspicion. Trying to be as stealthy as possible, he attempted to get behind his new foe. However, the man was too intelligent to fall for such an obvious trick, and he sent a small blast of fire at Byrn.
“Shield me!” Byrn shouted, stopping the fire mere inches from his body. “Restrict,” he said, paralyzing the man. Byrn walked up to him, and just as he was about to finish it with a blow from his sword, the man broke free and uttered a spell of his own.
“Drain his energy!” the man shouted, and instantly Byrn could feel his stamina start to go down. I have to end this quickly, he thought. Mustering up all the energy he could sacrifice he uttered a spell.
“Release me!” Byrn screamed the words so loud that they made his throat feel sore and raw. Then he felt the drain on his energy lessen, he turned his eyes to the Varden’s mage. The man was momentarily in shock, and Byrn took what might be his only chance. Stepping forward he thrust his sword into the mage’s abdomen and watched as he crumpled to the ground. A look of terror was etched into the man’s face and he fell with a blood curdling scream.
Now he could hear the cries of Surda’s army, dwarves had apparently arrived to help. We need to finish this soon or they may just turn this around. He continued blasting and slashing at his enemies, letting none escape his grasp. His ferocity came at a price, though; his body now literally ached from exhaustion. Not once did he fight another magician, however he sensed the Dragon Rider fly over head twice, once towards the Jiet River, and once back. It was just a short while after the Rider returned from the river when he heard a bellowing, vicious roar from behind him. A red dragon burst from their camp, flying into the sky. On it was a rider, who shot a blast of magic onto the battle field a few hundred yards to his right. Byrn snapped out of his entrancement just in time to block an arrow from embedding itself in his chest.
Above him, Byrn heard the two dragons clash, but he continued on, every spell and slash of his blade causing him to tire even more. Slash to his right, a spell aimed at an archer thirty feet away, a swift dodge of an axe swung at his left side. So the battle continued on the ground as the deafening roars of the dragons overhead signified the battle taking place above. Eventually, Byrn had curl up behind a rock to regain his energy. He turned his attention to the dragons now. He watched as the rider of the blue dragon leapt from his saddle and plummeted towards the red dragon. Byrn just barely saw the light glance off the blade of the falling rider as he slashed at his opponent’s dragon. Then he continued falling, and for a second it looked as if he might fall to his death, but finally his dragon came to catch him. Both dragons descended onto a plateau, now almost completely hidden from view where he was crouching. Not able to stay there much longer, Byrn got up and resumed his attack. I am weakening; there is no way I can continue like this. Despite his ever growing fatigue, he continued on.
A Varden swordsman rushed Byrn from behind, crushing his shoulder plate and opening a gash on his left arm. Surprised and weakened, he was struck twice more before he could parry one of the swordsman’s blows. It took all of his might to utter the words “Break his sword”; and as he watched the swordsman’s blade shatter, Byrn fell to his knees letting out an exasperated sigh. It was a few seconds after this that the red dragon departed from the plateau and just a while later when the Empire’s retreat signal was sounded. Through pure will and determination, Byrn half stumbled, half crawled towards the camp.
However, his effort was in vain. A lone archer stood not ten feet behind him; though Byrn no longer had his mind extended out and could not sense the archer. Silently, the archer strung one of his three remaining arrows, pulled back, took aim, and released. Noiselessly, the arrow found its mark, burying itself deep in Byrn’s back. Byrn felt a searing pain as the arrow entered, and he could feel it as it pierced his heart. No… I was… so close… He stood there for a few seconds, and tried to say “Heal me”. However, the attempted spell drained the last of his strength, and Byrn stumbled forward and fell dead upon the ground.