Part Four
Thank you to all of you who have reviewed and enjoyed this tale. This is the final part of Brom and Selena's love story.
I've messed with canon events a little bit towards the end. You'll know what I mean when you get there.
How could the man have been so stupid! It had taken them the better part of a year to finally put these plans into action, and that idiot Hefring had damned them all with his accursed stupidity. Granted, someone within the capital had betrayed him, but Brom was under the impression that the Varden's agents were more skilled than that.
Word had reached him two days ago that the plot had been foiled. There weren't any details as to who the traitor was, but it didn't really matter. The only thing that mattered was retrieving the one egg Hefring had managed to secure. Last he'd heard from his contact in Meadowbridge—a small town located twenty leagues west of Bullridge—Hefring had passed that way not two days ago, headed north unto Gil'ead. He had secured a fresh horse from the contact, and sped north as fast as the steed would carry him.
Now, as dusk gathered at the edge of his vision, he could just make out the flickering lights of Gil'ead's imposing fortress on the horizon. He only hoped that it was not too late. Two more hours and the blackness of night found him outside the military city. Where would that thrice-damned fool be? Did he even stop here? Or continue on to some unknown destination?
Brom angled his horse to the outskirts of the city, towards a small wooded hill just beyond the fortress. It was covered in shadow, but something unexplainable was drawing him towards it. A sense that this was the place he'd find Hefring and recover that most precious of items. Even if it was only one, instead of the intended three the man was supposed to steal. Brom dismounted the chestnut palfrey and sent him off to munch on some grass with a gentle prod at the beast's mind. He made his way towards the ring of trees, presumably containing a clearing on its summit. The Rider drew his longsword, the silver light of the full moon casting a gleam along the edge. Then, a sound split the calm night air, making Brom stop dead in his tracks.
It was the blood-curdling scream of one who has just met Death.
The scream faded away until silence once again reigned. Another, unmistakable sound filled his ears. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath, racing through the trees and up the small hill as fast as his feet would take him. There came the sound of dragon wings rustling against one another, and Brom's heartbeat quickened anxiously. A few more long strides up the gently sloping hill and he was at it's summit, facing down the person he hated most in this world.
"I wondered when you would make an appearance," Morzan said in a low, controlled voice. Every word dripped poison, but his handsome face remained composed, infuriatingly unreadable. Brom didn't respond, as his eyes were too busy taking in the sight before him, his mind trying to work out what he could do, if anything.
Morzan's enormous, blood-red dragon rose up ominously behind him, his amber eyes gleaming wickedly with bloodlust. Once, Brom had known this dragon as deeply as he once thought he'd known Morzan. But after their betrayal, everything had changed. The dragons had cast their magic, stripping every dragon of the Forsworn of their identities, even their true names. Not even Brom could remember their names. This monster before him was nothing more than a mindless beast, devoid of any conscious thought or moral center. And he would die like a beast.
In one hand, Morzan held his blood-red sword aloft, ready for any surprise assault. And in the other, he clutched what appeared to be a flawless, sapphire stone, but that Brom knew was so much more. In the moonlight, it seemed to glow from within its very depths. Brom's breath caught in his throat when he noticed the body of his agent lying not too far away. Blood pooled beneath the man's chest, and his eyes were locked on the sky above in the stare of the dead.
"You cannot hope to defeat both of us. Surely you must know that, Brom." He looked back at Morzan, hatred burning in his chest until it felt as though it might consume him entirely.
"I do not need to defeat both of you," he spat back at the older man. "You are the only one that needs to die. When you are slain, your dragon will follow soon after."
"We shall see." Morzan placed the egg next to Hefring's body, making sure it was out of the way before he turned back to face Brom. Once, in a time long ago, Brom would never have attacked an opponent while his back was turned. There was no honor in fighting that way; Oromis had taught him that... had taught both of them that. But things were different now. This was not a battle for honor. It was a battle of survival, and one of them was sure to die this very night. Brom was determined to make sure that person was not him.
Morzan barely got Zar'roc up in time to block Brom's vicious blow at his neck. "Attacking a man while his back is turned?" Morzan growled through gritted teeth. He shoved Brom away with relative ease, having at least two inches and twenty pounds on him. "That's not like you, Brom. If only your dragon still lived, Galbatorix might yet have made you a Forsworn after all." He let out a cruel laugh, striding towards Brom at an alarming pace.
"Brisingr," Brom hissed, and blue flames shot from the palm of his hand. Morzan only smiled wickedly as the fire spread around him and dissipated harmlessly against his wards. Brom cursed silently to himself at his own stupidity. Of course Galbatorix would have imbued his most powerful servant with incredible amounts of magic.
The Red Rider continued striding forward, unfazed. But Brom was backpedaling, straight into the waiting claws of Morzan's dragon. He could feel his energy flagging as his wards were sapped of their strength, having protected him from the brutal swipe his back had just received. Brom turned and saw the dragon coming for him again, his toothy maw opened far enough to swallow him whole. He shouted a few words in the ancient language and the dragon's mouth clamped shut against his will, bound by the magic Brom had cast. The great, red dragon buried his shoulder into the ground, falling with an earth-shaking thud and clawing desperately at his mouth. The spell of the dragons had stripped him of his magic as well, and he had no hope of breaking the enchantment that trapped him now.
Morzan growled angrily, the façade he so carefully held cracking just the tiniest bit. In a whirl of movement, Brom turned back to the Red Rider, raising his sword to block the heavy blow that would have caught him right in the chest.
"Your dragon is nothing more than a mindless beast," Brom said with acid in his voice. "Now it's just you and me."
"As it was always destined to be," Morzan returned, pushing back and entering a dueling stance. He began circling the younger man, angling for any weaknesses in his defense. Brom was covered in light plate armor from the shoulders down, his head the only part of him being uncovered. Ever since he was a boy, he'd always hated fighting with a helm on. It dulled his senses and limited his sight, and made him tire quicker. Morzan, for his part, only wore a heavy leather jerkin and greaves. It seemed he hadn't expected Brom to make his appearance tonight.
Their swords came together in a deafening crash, silver and red meeting in a shower of orange sparks. Behind them, Morzan's dragon continued to growl and whimper as he uselessly pawed at his mouth, drawing blood from his own snout. Brom hefted his sword over his head, aiming a strike at the joining of Morzan's shoulder and neck. But he swiped Brom's sword away with a slash of his own, quickly maneuvering into his own attack. Brom had to jump back to avoid getting a slash to his middle.
As Brom jumped, Morzan stumbled forward, losing his balance for a split second. His hands hit the ground in a jolting impact, loosening Zar'roc from his grasp just enough the Brom could kick it away. The blade flew from Morzan's hand to land uselessly in the grass three feet away. Brom lodged the edge of his sword at Morzan's neck, pricking the skin and drawing a thin line of blood to trail down the blade.
"You will pay for your crimes, Morzan," Brom seethed venomously. Suddenly, Morzan began to laugh. It began as a slight chuckle, but quickly spread into a maniacal cackling. Brom hedged slightly, thrown off by this unexpected outburst. It took only a moment for his laughter to evolve into a coughing fit, blood spraying from Morzan's mouth to splatter on the ground. He hacked violently for another few moments, until the fits subsided and Morzan was left gasping for breath.
"It must satisfy you to see me like this." There was something different in Morzan's voice now, something that Brom hadn't heard in a very long time. In fact, he couldn't recall whether he'd ever heard it.
It was pain.
"This is never what I wanted," Brom replied after a moment's silence. "You were my brother, Morzan. And you betrayed me."
"That was always the difference between us," Morzan said with a mirthless laugh. "You always thought of us as brothers, and I never saw you as anything more than a tool I could use for my own devices." Hatred flared in his chest again, though Brom had heard these words before.
"Yes, I was a fool," Brom admitted quietly, with just the barest hint of sadness for the boy he had been. "But no longer."
"Tell me," Morzan suddenly said, a slight smirk twisting his cruel mouth, "did you have anything to do with the disappearance of my Black Hand?"
Brom's heart stopped beating for a fraction of a second. When it finally resumed it's pumping, it was at a frantic pace. Selena was missing.
"I'll take your silence as affirmation," Morzan continued, completely oblivious to the thoughts and feelings raging in Brom's head. He looked up at Brom, malice in his stark, grey eyes. "I'll thank you for doing the job for me. She was no use to me anymore, and I would have dispatched of her eventually. What? You thought I cared for her?" He laughed upon seeing the look on Brom's face, which he mistook as surprise that the Hand's disappearance hadn't had the desired effect upon him. But really, it was fear. Fear that Selena had tried to run, and that something terrible had happened.
The spell he still held upon the dragon and his fear combined to sap him of his strength, and Morzan saw his opportunity. Quick as a flash of lightning, he retrieved a hidden dagger from his belt and vaulted forward, springing to his feet in an attempt to overpower Brom. But the effects of his sickness had weakened him as well, and Brom held him off easily. As he held Morzan's dagger-wielding hand away from his exposed neck, Brom slid his sword easily through his opponents abdomen. It caught only slightly on his leather jerkin, but he soon saw the point of his blade appear out of Morzan's back.
The Red Rider uttered a gasp and shuddered violently, his eyes going wide in shock. Brom stood there only a moment longer, before kicking him in the hip so that his body slid heavily off his blade. Morzan fell to the ground, gripping his abdomen in a futile attempt to staunch the bleeding. From behind him, Brom could hear Morzan's dragon crying desperately, trying to let loose his pain but finding the task impossible.
"Now," Brom said quietly, "I will make you suffer, as I have suffered. You will watch you dragon die, as I was forced to watch mine when you drove your blade through her heart." Morzan's mouth moved in a soundless whisper, his eyes following Brom as he staggered over to the red dragon. The beast thrashed against the weakening spell that still held him captive on the ground, his amber eyes darting about quickly and settling on Brom. His breathing quickened, great gusts of air coming out of his snout in quick succession.
He did not feel sympathy for the monster... No... he could not feel sympathy for this beast. If he did, then Brom understood himself well enough to know that he could not go through with it. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he angled the point of his blade just above the dragon's heart, holding it steady against the frantic rising and falling of the dragon's chest. As he put all of his weight behind the thrust, his blade slid through the dragon's skin, and he uttered a mournful cry. The last vestiges of his spell faded, releasing the dragon from his hold. But it was too late. The red dragon cried in agony from the white-hot pain, spreading his wings towards the sky and digging his gleaming claws into the dirt. When the blade pierced his heart, he gave one last shuddering cry and then collapsed, his life-force ebbing away into nothingness.
Morzan gave a strangled shout, his own life-force slowly fading away. When Brom looked back at the man who had once been his friend, he saw unfathomable pain and grief in his eyes. However much of a monster Morzan had been, he was still bonded with his dragon. Now he knew the pain Brom had felt upon losing Saphira, and Brom drew a grim satisfaction from that knowledge.
With great effort, Brom fell to his knees before the Red Rider, taking the dagger from his slackened hand and holding it to his throat. Morzan looked up at him, but he could tell that all of the fight had gone out of him, replaced by a voracious need to end this.
"Before you die, Morzan," Brom began slowly, "I want you to know that I have taken everything from you." Morzan looked at him questioningly, but said nothing. "Your dragon is dead at my hand, and soon, so you will be also. Your wife betrayed you to me. Yes, I know about Selena."
Morzan's brow came together in confusion. "How—?"
"She came to my bed, and whispered all of your secrets on my pillow," he said, relishing at the pain he was inflicting. "And more than that, I will take your son. He will never know of the monster who was his real father. I will raise him as my own, and teach him to be a good and honorable man, as you never were. Your legacy will die, Morzan, and your name will fade away, lost to history. Now die, and take all the evils you have committed with you." With that, Brom drew the blade across Morzan's throat, silencing him forever. A gush of red spilled upon the grass, and Brom witnessed the light leave his cruel eyes for the last time.
Brom released the breath he'd been holding, and uttered a tortured sob. He couldn't believe he'd actually done it. Morzan was dead... Saphira was avenged. And the blue egg had been saved, to be taken to the Varden. Everything had come together the way he'd planned. Everything except... Selena.
He struggled to his feet, staggering to Hefring's body and scooping up the blue egg. Then he returned to Morzan's body and retrieved his blood-red sword from where it still lay in the grass. He probed at the consciousness of the baby dragon inside, to make sure it was safe.
When he was satisfied that the dragon was safe, he cradled it in his arms and lurched back down the hillside, pushing the branches of trees aside until he was clear of them. The palfrey was still nearby, his head raised and alert, probably from the cries of the dying dragon. Brom secured the egg in one of the saddle bags, and then hauled himself up into the saddle. He needed to make it back to Morzan's estate, no matter how hurt he might be. Selena's life could be in danger.
After transferring the egg to a trusted Varden contact in Daret, Brom pushed the horse to its limits until he reached the Spine. It had taken him two days from Daret to reach Morzan's estate. And by the time he reached the castle gates, night had fallen some time ago. There weren't any guards at the gate, and the entire castle seemed to be deserted. How had news of their master's death already reached them?
Brom didn't have time to wonder. He needed to find Yöthern, or Avarin, if either of his allies were still in the castle. Perhaps one of them knew where Selena had gone, or maybe she'd left a letter for him. Anything to explain why she had run. He raced across the castle grounds, through the gardens he'd once studiously cared for, over the empty terrace, and straight up to the door of Yöthern's chambers. He pounded on the door with a clenched fist, shaking the very frame with his frantic strength.
"Yöthern!" he called, not even caring if anyone could hear him. Seconds later, the door swung open to reveal the healer's surprised face.
"Brom," he said quietly, ushering him inside. The Rider did not stop to care how the healer knew his real name. "Thank the gods you've come. She's through here." Brom followed quickly behind the old man, past two doorframes and through a heavy curtain into a room choked with the smoke of incense.
In the middle of the room was a bed, and upon that bed lay the only woman Brom had ever loved.
Her eyes were closed, and her dark hair splayed about her in a halo upon the pillow. There was a sickly pallor to her skin, and a sheen of sweat upon her brow. Her breaths came in ragged, shallow gasps, and her hands were clasped upon her stomach.
All of the breath left his body when Brom saw her form, noticing the swell of her belly and knowing it could only mean one thing. Quickly, he strode to the side of the bed and dropped to his knees, taking up her clammy hand in his rough, strong one.
"Selena," he whispered. "Selena, it's me. I'm here. Please, open your eyes." It took her a moment, but her dark eyes fluttered open and turned upon him. Recognition sparked in them, and the tiniest of smiles broke upon her full lips.
"Brom," she said, her voice cracking weakly, "you came back."
He lifted her hand to his lips, planting a soft kiss there. "I told you I would," he replied. "I could not leave you in this hell. Selena, what happened? Why did you go?" Brom thought he already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it from her mouth.
She chuckled slightly, as much as her strength would allow. "I should think it would be quite obvious." Her free hand ghosted atop the mound of her stomach. "I needed to give birth to our son far from here, Brom. He would have known... Morzan would have known it was not his child."
"My son," Brom whispered, feeling tears come to his eyes. "Is he—?"
"He is safe, and healthy. You will find him in Carvahall, with my brother and his wife," Selena explained. "They have promised to take care of him."
"No, Selena we will care for our son. And Murtagh as well; we will care for them both." His voice had become firm, though the fear was beginning to seep in. Selena looked up at him with those dark eyes of hers, and Brom saw the truth there, before she even had to say it.
"I am dying, Brom." It felt like lightning had struck his chest, and Brom bowed his head so she would not see the tears flowing down his face. "Look at me," she whispered after a long moment. Brom did as she asked. "My beloved Brom... Watch over our son, and tell him that his mother loved him, more than he could possibly know. Keep him safe, and ignorant of his mother's transgressions, I beg of you. Protect him from the Empire."
"I will," Brom promised, squeezing her hand as tightly as he dared. She was so weak and frail... "Selena, do not leave me. I beg of you... I... I love you."
"Death is not final," she said with the ghost of a smile, "only a temporary parting. We shall meet again in the golden fields of Aldhaarr. Many years will pass for you, but it will be but a moment for me until we are together once more." Selena drew in her breath quickly, and tightened her grip on Brom's hand. When she expelled that breath, her grip slackened and fell from Brom's hand, and her life was no more.
When she was gone, Brom let out a tortured sob, burying his face into the coverings and letting his grief soak into them. And when he was spent, he stood from the floor and leaned over her, planting a soft kiss upon her forehead and muttering a blessing from the living to the dead in the ancient language. Yöthern stood aside, pressed into the corner so as to appear invisible. When Brom turned his eyes on the old man, he stepped out of the shadows.
Brom's voice was weak, but he managed to say, "Where is the Little Lord?"
Yöthern looked at his feet and shook his head sadly. "The king himself came to the castle, only two days ago, He gathered the entire household, including the Little Lord, and took them all back to Urû'baen." Brom's heart fell even further, if that was possible. He had failed in saving the boy, and his heart ached for the child. But there was nothing to be done. In the wake of the Varden's most recent infiltration, the defenses around the king would only be that much stronger. Murtagh was trapped there with that monster, and it hurt Brom to know that the boy would likely die there.
"You should leave this place," Brom muttered darkly, looking at the cold body of his beloved. "The Varden could use a man of your talents. If you wish to find them, look for the dwarves." Brom knew that Yöthern was a learned man, and he would understand what he meant.
Without another word, Brom collected Selena's body into his arms and carried her out of the house. In the stables, he found a carriage, but no horses. His palfrey would have to draw it alone. Brom placed her body in the carriage and then hurried back to the garden, winding his way through the endless paths until he found the flowerbed he searched for.
The little white petals were in full bloom under the veil of night, soaking up the light of the moon above. Carefully, Brom dug up as many of the blooms as he could carry, and then returned to the carriage. After he put the appropriate tack on the horse, and hooked it up, he climbed into the driver's seat and set the horse out on a slow pace.
Brom directed the horse away from the imposing castle, never sparing a backwards glance. After an hour or so, Brom spotted a place very much like what he was looking for. The mountains were thickly wooded, but he spotted a clearing about a hundred meters away. In the center of the clearing was a massive oak tree, its branches and leaves so numerous that he could not gauge their number in the dark. The palfrey drug the carriage off the road and over the open land, stopping just below the tree.
Brom hopped out of the driver's seat and strode over to the tree, drawing in a deep breath to steady himself. When he was beneath the shade of the tree, he began speaking in the ancient language, until a shallow grave was dug before him. Then, using more words from the ancient language, Selena's body floated down into the grave, until she was resting peacefully in the ground. Brom moved the dirt back overtop of her, and then returned to the carriage, bringing down his saddlebags and rifling through them until he found his trowel. He dug the appropriate number of holes needed for all of the blooms, and then used his magic to place the flowers on top of her grave.
There would be no marker, as he didn't want anyone knowing who was buried here. To anyone passing by, it will simply look as though a bed of flowers had grown under the tree. The moonflowers, which Selena had so loved, would be the only indicator of her final resting place. It was fitting, he thought. The flowers only showed their true selves at night, as Selena had done with him. They were fragile-looking, but the blooms always survived through the winter to come back the following year. Selena was like that too. And their seeds were poisonous, if taken in too large amounts, but had incredible healing powers in the proper dosage. Finally, Brom understood why she loved them so.
And so, with a heavy heart, Brom scooped up the last of the blooms, carrying it back with him to the carriage. He would take it with him, to keep as a reminder of the woman he had loved so fervently, to plant in his garden wherever he made a home.
By now, dawn was breaking in the east. Brom climbed back into the driver's seat, securing the moonflower in his saddlebags, and urged the horse onward, turning him west and further into the mountains... towards Carvahall.
THE END.
Thank you all so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed it.