Galbatorix... A road to madness

Chapter three

“It will never work” Morzan scoffed.

“It will work because I will make it work.” He declared, and with that he walked away leaving his new minion to stare at his retreating form with dumb rage.

Before the new forsworn turned away to walk in the opposite direction back to the door he was greeted with the sight of an over-enthusiastic young rider jabbering to one of the tavern’s older patrons. the ‘victim’ of the young rider was an older man with a large potbelly, a receding hairline of red hair and an untamed black mustache that he was stroking, seeming to be deep in thought. Morzan sighed, why- he of all people-, why was he stuck with little Brom? The boy talked a mile a minute, barely allowing himself time to breath. Morzan wondered sometimes how had he been chosen to become a rider? Perhaps his dragon had been malnourished in her mother’s womb. “Brom, come, we must return, that fool Oromis will be missing us.” He said as he attempted to herd the boy out of the tavern.

A red dragon stood next to a smaller blue dragon, a fierce look on its face while the Sapphire dragon’s face held a gentler and welcoming expression. The dragons had been prepared for departure an hour ago and awaited their riders. Morzan skillfully climbed up his dragon settling in the warm molded saddle. As he strapped himself in, Brom clumsily clambered up the front leg of his blue dragon, nearly impaling himself on one of her spikes in the process, before he sat down in his own light tan saddle.

Brom gave his elder a thumbs up, a dumb smile on his face before he was swept out of Morzan’s view as the ruby dragon took off flying, his sapphire counterpart soon following.

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Small clouds of dust lingered long after his feet had touched the ground in that spot. The dry plain flew by as he ran back to Illrea, his follower- well following him from high above. As he ran, his mind flashed back to a few days ago- remembering his last kill.

Far in the distance a dragon roared its last roar before a sickening thud was heard. He wiped the copper smelling blood off the brown sword and re-sheathed it back in it’s now dead owner’s sheath. The Eldar was close by, he could sense him. Walking away from the fresh crime scene, he walked towards the Rider’s quarters, his hand on the pommel of his dark purple sword.

Without a second thought, he kicked down the old wooden door, causing a man inside to jump to his feet. Galbatorix drew his sword proudly and pointed it at the obese rider threateningly, his mind already fighting for dominance with the other rider. “On your knees!”

The obese man obeyed silently as Galbatorix finally managed to wrestle control of the man’s mind, forcing him into submission. A blank look fluttered its way onto the man’s face. This was too easy. He thought. Before he could yell the few words the whole side of the building came crashing down around him as a ruddy brown dragon stuck it’s head in, snapping at Galbatorix. “Mathinae!” He shouted, binding the rider for later use. 

With rider subdued, he turned his full attention to the snarling dragon he still dodged, “Brisingr!” setting his sword on fire to battle fire with fire. When the dragon lunged at him again he stuck the purple flamed sword into its open mouth, up into its brain cavity... killing it almost instantly. Overcoming the young rider’s bonds, the obese rider grabbed his sword that was swinging from his hip. He drew it and held it tip pressed firmly on Galbatorix’s back, directly behind his heart as Galbatorix was bent over, panting for breath he lost in the exertion of killing a humongous full grown dragon.

“Drop your sword now, murderer!” said the Eldar, madness and sorrow lacing his voice. Galbatorix seemed not to hear him, not even noticing the sharp blade now piercing his skin, causing blood to slowly trickle out. “So be it then,” declared the Eldar. As he drew back his sword to plunge it into his opponent’s chest Galbatorix whipped around, carving a red line with his sword from the man’s right hip, through his abdomen, across the mans left breast. Coming to a complete stop for a millisecond, as the old man stepped back out of reflex, Galbatorix’s sword changed directions, beheading the Eldar rider.   

Wiping the blood on the dead man’s clothes, much a he did earlier, he re-sheathed his sword, blinking a few times, seeming to come back to reality. He suddenly ran off, screaming back to the god-forsaken desert.

A smile graced his face as he remembered. This time though, he was not going to a random city to kill someone for revenge, no this time he was going to steal a dragon.

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“This is it, this is her house.” Whispered Galbatorix. Silently uttering a few words, the lock clicked open as the wards were disabled. They crept in, closing the door quietly behind them. His mouth moving in constantly, forming intricate spells, the door in front of them was opened, revealing a small bedroom. A soft growling snore permeated the air. Galbatorix’s mouth came to a halt as a bright flash blinded them, coming from the sleeping rider’s palm. He sagged, against the side of the doorway as Morzan rushed forwards towards the end of the bed, to grab the small dragon.

There was a sudden creak of the bed as the young elf, Angela, jerked awake, no longer feeling the newly formed connection to her little green dragon.

Morzan quickly grabbed the now black dragon from the curly brown-haired she-elf’s  bed. Before the now dragon-less dragon rider could do anything, Morzan and Galbatorix ran out of the small house, thankful for Morzan’s nearby dragon. A siren sounded as the ruby dragon took off, speeding towards the desert.