Title: Remnants of a Forgotten Past

Rating: T (may change later)

Series: Inheritance Cycle/Dresden Files

Summary: During the final battle, Eragon is bested by Galbatorix and in order to save him, Saphira uses her magic to encase them both in crystal, safe from the ravages of time and hidden from those who seek them. When the spell finally breaks, the Dragon Rider wakes to find himself in the presence of a modern day wizard. Inheritance Cycle/Dresden Files crossover. Spoilers for Dresden Files. Post-Turn Coat.

A/N: So the idea for this story was spontaneous and random and it took me about an hour to write the prologue. I promise the chapters will be longer in the future. Chapters, and sometimes within the chapters, will switch between Eragon and Dresden's POV. WARNING! There are spoilers in here, especially of the latest book, Changes. If you haven't read it yet, Read No Further! If you have or you don't care, please continue and sorry for the interruption.

Prologue: A Dark Beginning to a Darker End

Eragon surveyed the army below him, evaluating their chances of victory in his head. He now had at his disposal the combined forces of Surda, the Urgals, the Elves, the Dwarves and, of course, the Varden. It was a massive army, filled with skilled fighters and brave souls, but he feared even that may not be enough, for their enemy was powerful beyond all imagining. The tense feeling of anticipation mixed with fear permeated the air above the army as they prepared to face the might of Galbatorix's forces. The King's army consisted of dark spirits and men, as well as several other unsavoury creatures, their minds bent and twisted to the will of Galbatorix. Then there was Murtagh, Eragon's half brother and another dragon rider, though he was enslaved to the King. However, the King himself would prove to be the most formidable opponent. The army preparing to face them knew their chances were slim but they had run out of time. It was now or never.

The farm boy turned Dragon Rider sat atop his dragon, Saphira, and placed a hand against the cool blue scales of her neck. "Do you think we have a chance?" he asked her silently, their minds intertwined as one.

"I think we are doing what has to be done, young one," she replied, her voice soothing the doubts of his mind. "I know it seems bleak, but have hope; we are not alone. Our friends and comrades stand with us. The courage we gain from each others presence gives us an advantage that twisted king will never have." He smiled, knowing she was right. As long as they remained united, their strength was multiplied a thousand fold.

Overhead, the sound of rushing wings heralded the arrival of the newest Rider. Both Eragon and Saphira turned their gazes skyward and watched as a dragon of shimmering green set down beside them. Astride this dragon was the elf Arya. Her black hair fell past her pointed ears, framing her face and making Eragon remember the love he felt for her. He was nineteen now, and she over one hundred, but the age no longer mattered to either of them. Her dragon, Mytcaesin, had hatched for her about a year ago after they had stolen it from Galbatorix. After he had hatched, the young dragon had immediately formed a bond with Saphira. As the two dragons grew closer, so had their riders. In the past, Arya had denied Eragon's advances and he had no doubt it was the bond between their dragons that was drawing them closer. As time passed, he believed that her feelings towards him had become genuine. Either way, he was happy to have her in his life.

"The fight is almost upon us," she told him in the ancient language. As a boy, he had never even heard of the language. Now, through countless days spent studying it under the supervision of both Brom and Oromis, he was fluent in it.

"This will be the final battle," he told her in the same tongue. "I intend to make sure of it."

"I feel a sense of foreboding," Mytcaesin said suddenly. Arya's dragon was known to have a little of the sixth sense, but Eragon brushed it off.

"It's just the feeling of the approaching battle," he said.

"Are the eggs safe?" Saphira asked her mate. Recently, the two had mated and Saphira had lain several eggs, each awaiting a rider to bond with. Eragon had shared in Saphira's joy when she became a mother as Arya had no doubt shared in Mytcaesin's elation.

"Yes," he replied proudly. "They are well protected."

Soft footsteps on the rocks behind them drew their attention. They were approached by Nasuada, Orik, Islanzadi, Nar Garzhvog, and King Orrin. Between the nine of them, all the races under their alliance were represented.

"It is time," Nasuada said softly. Eragon looked at each of those present and knew that most of their hopes rested on him. He only hoped that he could live up to their expectations. He looked away towards the horizon and saw the approaching army along with two silhouettes in the sky, all growing steadily closer.

"Let us show them the might they stand against," Saphira growled savagely before opening her maw, spewing a jet of flames and roaring her vicious intent for all to hear. Mytcaesin joined in her war cry as did the Urgals, the Kull, and most of the others gathered.

Unsheathing his sword, Brisingr, Eragon held it aloft and let the flames dance along the gleaming blue blade. "For the freedom of Alagaesia!" he bellowed as he and Saphira launched themselves off the rock, closely followed by Mytcaesin and Arya. The others rode down on horses except for the Kull who easily kept pace with his mounted comrades.

Eragon headed straight for Galbatorix, not wasting his time. Right now he was at his top strength, and he would need it all in the fight against the King. However, a quick victory was not to be. He was met almost immediately with a wall of sorcerers and he felt them try to break through the shield he kept around his mind. He could feel Saphira adding her strength to his own as her powerful wings moved them through the sky.

Turning his attention from the black dragon rider, Eragon scanned the ground below, looking for the source of the mental assault. He found them quickly, surrounded by foot soldiers near the edge of the battle, trying to keep as far out of harms way as possible. The foot soldiers were all armed with bows and they fired at him instantly upon seeing him. With minimal effort, Eragon stopped their arrows, set them ablaze, and sent them flying back. He heard anguished screams as soldiers began to fall.

Without having to be told, Saphira dived towards the sorcerers before setting them ablaze with a stream of fire. A stray soldier who had escaped both Eragon's and Saphira's attack fired an arrow with deadly accuracy, but it bounced harmlessly off the wards he had set on himself. Eragon quickly dispatched him with Brisingr.

He noticed a flash of green in the distance as Arya began to use her magic. Looking closer, he noticed she was fighting Murtagh and he felt his heart wrench. There was the woman he loved and his last blood relative fighting to the death, neither willing to give in. He would have given anything for Murtagh to join the Varden, but he knew Galbatorix had him in an unbreakable grip; he knew Murtagh's true name.

They had fought twice before. The first time, Murtagh had found a loop hole that had allowed him to walk away without ending Eragon's life. Murtagh could be cruel at times, but he wasn't evil, nor could he help the way he was. He had been raised in Galbatorix's castle by Morzan, the first of the foresworn. With a childhood like that, it was a miracle that Murtagh had any conscious left at all.

"Eragon!" Islanzadi's voice cut through his thoughts and brought him back to the fight. He realized with dismay that he had been more distracted then he realized. Galbatorix was nearly upon him. Saphira roared and bared her fangs at the twisted black dragon that approached them. This creature was an abomination, its mind twisted beyond recognition.

With surprising speed, Shruikan lunged forwards and sank his claws into the arms and legs of Saphira. She bellowed in pain before snaking her head forwards to try and attack the black dragon's neck.

"I've been wanting to meet you, boy," Galbatorix said to Eragon, his voice twisted with madness. "You have been a nuisance," he continued. "Why do you not join me? You would be treated as a lord. You would have power beyond your wildest dreams." Pausing, he turned his gaze briefly to the red rider. "You would be reunited with your brother."

Their dragons still writhing beneath them, the two riders were slowly falling towards the ground. "I would sooner die than serve you, Galbatorix," Eragon retorted, his voice dripping with scorn.

The King's eyes flashed with fury at Eragon's words. "Then die!" he screamed. Eragon was hit with a spell powered by countless Eldunari, a spell with more power then anything he had ever been able to achieve. The force of the spell threw him from his saddle on Saphira's back, drained all his wards, and began to tear at his flesh.

"No!" Saphira screamed. She wrenched herself from Shruikan's grasp and flung herself towards her falling rider.

Eragon could feel the spell taking its toll on him, slowly draining him of life. If the spell didn't kill him, the impact that was coming from the fall probably would. Sadly, he realized he had let everyone down. They had all been counting on him to save the day, to overthrow the Mad King and free Alagaesia from his oppression. Instead, he had let himself become distracted and made an easy target of himself. The pain was starting to reach his shocked brain now and the sensation of the spell tearing him apart slowly was excruciating. One of the biggest regrets he had was that he wouldn't be there to see his cousin's child grow. He felt Galbatorix prepare a final spell.

Then he felt cool claws and scales enfold him and his vision was filled with a brilliant blue. His descent slowed but he hardly registered it, being barely conscious. There was a rush of wind as Saphira enfolded them within her wings and he felt something hard begin to surround them. He sensed an immense power pouring from the blue dragon. It was one of the last things he felt. Sweet oblivion slowly enfolded his mind in its dark embrace.