For your people, Eragon

          "Move on!" the soldier yelled as he pushed Eragon roughly. Eragon growled at him. The soldier, however, wasn't daunted. He had his orders, and even a Rider wasn't going to stop him.
          Eragon's hands were bound behind his back with length of knotted rope. No matter how hard he wriggled, he couldn't seem to get his hands free. The soldiers that held him were obviously scared out of their minds. The only one that didn't cower was the man in charge. He stood tall, taller than Eragon by almost a full head, with massive muscles covering what little of his body showed through his armor. He had a mean-looking face, but it was almost completely devoid of any emotion of its own. Eragon suspected the man had been Galbatorix's pawn for many years.
          The walls of the grand passageway were dark. The accumulated grime of thousands of candles, coupled with the lack of light, made it nearly impossible to see. It seemed to Eragon that hundreds of people would usually fill the wide hallways, but now it was deserted. The only sounds were the constantly unpredictable crackle of burning candles, and the tromp and panting of Eragon and his captors.
          Saphira? Eragon questioned hesitantly. There was no answer. A stab of anxiety wormed in his chest. He hoped she was all right. He dared not search for her; who knew what kind of magic was lurking in the shadows, ready to be awakened by the slighted touch of his thoughts. Eragon glanced at the ground. The dirt was pounded and filthy from all the traffic it had received. He craned his neck and looked ahead. One of the soldiers shoved him down to the stooped position they were dragging him along by. Eragon cursed under his breath. These petty soldiers were no match for him, even without magic. If only he had Brisingr with him still. But he had lost the blade when the Varden stepped into Uru'baen.
          Hours previously, Eragon discovered quite by accident that Galbatorix had recently put wards that canceled almost all effects of magic. Though he fought fiercely, Eragon was soon overwhelmed by the sheer number of warriors assailing him. And, because magic was seemingly prohibited, Saphira could not cross. Before they truly knew what was happening, Eragon and Saphira had been separated. He hadn't heard from her since.
Eragon was jostled out of his thoughts as the party stopped abruptly. He raised his head cautiously. They stood in front of a massive stone and iron door. A much smaller door was concealed just to the left of the black ordeal in front of them. It was through this more realistic opening that Eragon was forced. He resisted mightily, but was again overwhelmed. He was still fighting when the soldiers knelt, forcing Eragon down as well.
          "Well. The mighty Rider Eragon has been humbled and is now in my presence. What an honor." Eragon's head snapped up at the malicious sound.
          Galbatorix. The thought came entirely of its own bidding. Eragon wasn't sure what he had expected the King to look like, but the reality caught him entirely by surprise. Eragon supposed Galbatorix would be somewhat like an evil version of Brom; stooped and wrinkled, with white hair and glittering eyes. Eragon knew that the king was roughly the same age as his father. Considering all that, Eragon's greatest foe looked quite young. Though of middle height, King Galbatorix was an imposing figure. His hooked nose and glinting eyes were framed by glossy raven locks. His face was gray and drawn. A thick black sword was belted at his side. Polished black boots covered his feet and lower legs, while a glittering chainmail shirt was taut against his chest. An obsidian crown rested on his head. A thick black cloak trimmed with dyed-red fur hung limply over his shoulders. His eyes met Eragon's.
          Eragon shuddered and looked away.
          A quiet, wicked chuckled filled the room. "Oh do look up, Shur'tugal," Galbatorix hissed. "How rude it is not to meet the eyes of your host." Eragon squeezed his eyes shut, mind racing. He was just about to put up every defense he could think of when a tendril of though whispered through his mind. Eragon.
          Eragon's eyes flew open. He looked around wildly. Saphira! Where are you? Are you all right?
          Eragon. She sounded weak. Eragon followed her thoughts and found nothing more than white hot anger and pain. Galbatorix was torturing her!
          Saphira! Eragon cried in alarm. Saphira answer me! Galbatorix laughed again.
          "She won't answer, little Rider." Eragon glared at him with growing rage. Galbatorix smiled menacingly and motioned off to one side. Eragon followed the movement with his eyes. He squinted in the gloom. A team of soldiers appeared suddenly, hauling on heavy chains. Eragon was puzzled. Chains? He though. Chains like that couldn't be heavy enough to require seven people to pull them. Unless there's something attached…SAPHIRA!!
          Saphira was being slowly dragged across the floor, bound by the chains. Even so close, Eragon could hardly feel her. He stared in absolute horror. Then his vision narrowed and he twisted violently, attempting to throw off his imprisoners. He succeeded, but only just. Two lay moaning on the ground, gut's aching from Eragon's jabbing elbows. Two more were clutching bloody noses. The fifth was a bit trickier, but Eragon did eventually topple him as well. While he had been occupied with the immediate threat, the men holding Saphira had come to join the fight. Eragon took one glance at them and immediately set to work on freeing his hands. The rope snapped just as the first enemy began to throw a punch. Eragon dodged and retaliated with his own, catching the man directly under the chin and knocking him back. The second and third rushed at him together. The ducked their blows, spun around, and crashed them together. The fourth he took care of with a spinning kick. The fifth seemed about to retreat, so Eragon took the initiative and slammed him hard in the face. The sixth and seventh were taken care of in the manner of the second and third.
          Just as Eragon reached Saphira, a whole platoon of soldiers rushed in to restrain him. He lashed out, but was yet again overwhelmed. He screeched and threw out a hand to touch his Saphira. She raised her head and moaned deep in her chest. The sound tore at Eragon's heart and he fought all the harder to reach her.
          A new voice sounded. "Stop, Eragon. It's no use." Eragon froze. Murtagh, he thought, lips curling into a snarl.
         He spun around, screaming. "Traitor! Egg breaker, oath breaker, murderer!" He had no idea he was copying Saphira's hate-filled words. He ran at Murtagh, intending to take out his rage. Murtagh caught his fist and threw Eragon across the floor. Eragon laid there, the air crushed out of him. The soldiers quickly retied Eragon's wrists and hoisted him up to a standing position. Eragon's glare was cold enough to kill. Galbatorix's lips twitched in a small smile. He leaned towards Murtagh.
          "Murtagh, be a dear and show your little brother what 'pain' means." He gestured toward Saphira. Eragon panicked. Murtagh's eyes became shadowed. Galbatorix's face hardened. "Now," he said in the ancient language. Murtagh flinched and made his way to Saphira's immobile form. He drew Zar'roc. Eragon squirmed and twisted, anything to stop Murtagh.
          Murtagh stopped at Saphira's head. He rested Zar'rocs' point against her snout and took a deep breath. "Limae," he whispered. Red hot pain whipped through Eragon, clearly coming from Saphira. He screamed in agony. Saphira! Murtagh lifted his sword and the pain stopped. Eragon fell, caught by his guards to hang limp with terror. Murtagh looked to Galbatorix, who nodded once. Zar'roc was lowered. Eragon and Saphira screamed in harmony.
          "Stop!" Eragon cried. "Stop it, stop it!!" The pain stopped. He hung there, panting.
          Galbatorix leaned closer. "Had enough, boy?" The words were thick with cruelty.
          Eragon glowered at the black king. Galbatorix leaned back and nodded to Murtagh. Eragon screamed. By the time the ruby sword was lifted again, Eragon was shaking. Not from his own pain, but from fear of how much more Saphira could take. Her life was dwindling. If this kept up, she would die. Eragon looked at Galbatorix. "What do you want?" he spat. "What can you want with us? You have Murtagh. Isn't he enough?"
          Galbatorix laughed. "Enough? Just Murtagh, enough? Oh no, Rider. Murtagh and Thorn aren't nearly enough. I want both of Morzan's sons, and then more. You will serve me, Shadeslayer. It is up to you to decide when." The pain resumed.
          "What do I have to do?" Eragon screeched. Galbatorix smiled. "I'll do anything, just stop it!"
          "Anything?"
          "Yes!"
          The pain stopped.
          "You will serve me, Eragon. You will swear here and now that you will forever obey my words. And your dragon as well must swear. Do it and I'll consider stopping your pain."
          Eragon looked at Saphira through a haze of conflicting thoughts. "Let me go and I'll do it." Galbatorix nodded at the soldiers. Eragon's hands were unbound and his arms released. His legs shook and he had trouble standing, but somehow he managed. He knelt. "Eka, Eragon Shade –"
          No! Eragon, don't! You forget everything we've worked for! You must not! You CAN NOT do this!
          He gritted his teeth and continued, "-slayer, Shur'tugal un Argetlam, Brisingr un Alfa Fricai –"
          Eragon, if you do this I will never forgive you! I will shun you and leave you, and you will be my Rider no more!
          Eragon froze. She would do that? he wondered
          Yes. I would. It doesn't matter if we die, Eragon. All that matters is that we fight back. This is madness! This man, he murdered your family. He burned your home to the ground. He made you flee for your life, and now you join him? Now you pledge yourself willingly to his cause? Eragon! Wake up! Remember what Ruhunon said! The only worth is in the doing. Remember your life, Eragon! Remember those you care for, those who care for you. Would you betray them so willingly?
          Eragon's conflicted feelings were jumbled even more. Of course I don't want to betray them. Any of them. I do hate Galbatorix, and I do hate myself for doing this, but my love for you is stronger, much stronger. I can't let you die knowing I could have done something about it! I'm sorry Saphira.
          She was silent. Then, just as Eragon was about to resume his oath, Saphira said in a quiet voice, I love you, little one. And it is my love for you that makes me reject this. You will never be happy here. You will torture yourself over this, day and night. And if I die because you do not take this oath, then you will simply have to avenge my death. And I will die knowing that Galbatorix will be brought down. Think of Brom, Eragon. Think of Oromis and Garrow. Think of everyone who has suffered or died because of him. This is for them. This is for your people, Eragon! Never forget where you came from! Never forget what has happened to you; for within your pain comes strength. That pain that this murderer has wrought, turn it against him! Make him suffer for all that he has done. Think of Arya. Arya will never forgive you if you give up now. After all that has happened. You loved her, Eragon. And I think that she may love you yet.
          Eragon looked at her with despair in his eyes. She met his eyes, and in that moment he knew what he had to do. For Arya. He said. For you, and for Arya, and Nasuada, and Roran, and even Murtagh. For Brom and Oromis, Garrow and Selena. For everyone that he has hurt or betrayed. I will bring him down!

       I love you, Saphira