"Waíse heill," Eragon muttered, standing next to the injured soldier. He watched as the flesh of the wound mended itself, stitching together as though invisible lines pulled at it. The soldier stared at it in amazement, and Eragon felt his energy dip further. He had been healing the wounded for hours now, and it had long since become night. There were still more to heal, and Eragon still had some energy to spare.
"I've never seen a healing spell work so fast," the soldier whispered, his eyes taking in the Rider. Eragon merely smiled tightly in response, ending the spell once he was done. He bid the soldier farewell, walking over to a man clutching his leg. They were in one of the many rooms of Tronjheim, set up for those whose wounds were severe enough. The other healers bustled about; their faces drawn from using so much magic. Others were bandaging what the healers did not fully heal, cleaning the wounds as best they could.
After Eragon healed a few more soldiers, one of the healers approached him, "You are tired, Agretlam," the man said, "Please, we can handle the remaining. It would not do for you to strain yourself after the battle."
Eragon frowned at the healer, but eventually gave in when the soldiers around them voiced their approval. They thanked him as he passed, muttering their praise. "I will be back after I get some sleep and food," he told the lead healer, who bowed deeply to him.
He made his way to the dining area set up for the soldiers, taking only some bread and cheese as he went. Eragon sped quickly through the soldiers seated around the tables, listening as they said, "Shadeslayer."
The title was nothing new, but the knowledge that he was most likely the only person to have killed two Shades was strange. Eragon trekked down one of the Tronjheim's many corridors, nodding at those he passed. He eventually picked a door at random, opening it to reveal a small room inside. The room was sparse, only containing a few chairs and one lone table, and nothing about the interior told Eragon what the room was used for. Shrugging, he pulled up one of the chairs to the table, sitting down heavily.
He ate the bread and cheese slowly, his mind still caught up in the battle that had ended only hours ago. There were still Urgal's roaming the tunnels, and Ajihad was working to send out some men to track them down. Once he was done, Eragon pulled out a wineskin, taking a long drink of the water inside. He settled down into the seat after, leaning heavily on his hand.
He wasn't aware that he had fallen asleep until something brushed up against his face, tickling his nose. He snorted before pulling back, and opening his eyes. Solembum stood on the table before him, his tail flicking lightly in front of Eragon's face. Blinking, Eragon watched as the werecat sat in front of him, his green eyes shifting momentarily blue then back again.
Casting his mind out to the werecat, Eragon said, Greetings, Solembum.
The werecat said nothing, his eyes starring intently into Eragon's own. Sighing, Eragon sat back in his seat. He did not know how long he slept for, but the chair was beginning to grow uncomfortable. He was aware of the stories around werecats, so he simply waited for Solembum.
After a while, the werecat blinked before he said, Greetings, Rider.
Is there something I can do for you, Solembum? Eragon asked.
Listen closely and I will tell you two things, If the time comes and you need a weapon, look under the roots of the Menoa tree. Then, when all seems lost and your power is insufficient, go to the Rock of Kuthian-.
Pain erupted in Eragon's head, causing him to cry out. It seared through his mind, tearing at him, and Eragon grasped his head between his hands. Some part of him recognized Saphira, through their bond, also cry out in pain. Solembum stopped speaking, and Eragon barely noticed the werecat glancing around the room, growling as though someone was there. Whatever magic was at work, Eragon could barely think, the spell racketing around his mind. He knew it would destroy him, whatever it was.
A massive presence slammed into Eragon, and he cried out again. He listened as a multitude of voices swarmed around him. He nearly lost himself in the dissonance, and he could feel them pressing in closer. It was as though they were squeezing his mind, pulling at his memories. The image of Vroengard passed through him, the array of minds tearing at it as though searching for something. He could barely feel Solembum's mind pressed against his own.
It was when a memory surfaced did the voices finally relent their onslaught.. He could barely recall it, but it was from a time he and Saphira spent on Vroengard, standing next to the Rock of Kuthian. The presence seemed to recede slightly, but Eragon could still feel the pain from the magic taking hold. The voices grew again, though this time it seemed that they weren't searching his mind. He felt the minds press firmly against the magic holding him captive. It was only moments later that he felt as if something popped, and the magic abated entirely. As soon as it did, the presence immediately vanished, leaving him gasping for air.
He could feel Saphira better now, and could tell that she had recovered as well. Their minds meddled together, and he could feel her searching his mind, looking to find whatever had happened to them.
Eragon jumped from the seat, staring hard at the werecat. He noticed then that Solembum's hackles were raised, his eyes jumping about the room, pacing the table quickly. When the werecat noticed Eragon recovered, did Eragon see him relax. The werecat settled, but his eyes were still glancing about. "What was that?" Eragon asked, his eyes wide. His hand found itself clutching Brisingr on his waist, but he heard nothing that would make him draw it.
He felt Saphira reach out, her mind touching the werecats. The two conversed, faster than could with Saphira unless their minds where completely melded together.
Solembum does not know either, Saphira said shortly after. He felt the presence the second he uttered the words, and he saw you collapse in pain. He tried to help you, but your mind was blocked to him, shrouded as though a hundred others were crammed inside your mind.
"That's worrying," Eragon said out loud. He knew Saphira could hear him through their bond.
It was. I've never known such a thing to happen before, Solembum said, his green eyes fixed on Eragon's own. How do you feel?
Taking a moment to think about it, Eragon said, "Fine now. What were you trying to tell me?"
Saphira interrupted them, Is that such a good idea, Eragon? Whatever Solembum wished to tell you is clearly enchanted. I'm not sure if it is wise for you to continue.
Eragon made to speak, but watched as the werecat stumbled as though struck. Solembum's eyes glazed over, but it was hard to how the werecat felt when he appeared as a cat. When all seems lost and your power is insufficient, go to the Rock of Kuthian and speak your name to open the Vault of Souls.
There werecat blinked, his eyes returning to normal. I agree, with Saphira. The knowledge I hold is enchanted, and until we know more, I will not speak the words again.
Confused, Eragon said, Solembum, you just did.
The werecat's eyes narrowed, his tail swishing back and forth quickly. I think I would remember speaking, Rider.
He felt Saphira's concern grow, you did, Solembum. You told us to go to the Rock of Kuthian and to open the Vault of Souls.
The werecat paused, his tail flicking.
So it seems I did, the werecat said. He seemed to Eragon to be worried, but he continued, Well, now you know I suppose.
The werecat walked up the exit in the room, and Eragon noticed that the door was slightly ajar. Before the werecat exited, Eragon called out, "Wait! Please, who told you this information?"
The werecat paused but did not turn around, his tail still swishing back and forth as though irritated. I do not know.
The werecat slipped through the door, leaving the rider said to Saphira, I have no idea what just happened.
Neither do I. Saphira responded, before her tone grew worried, how do you feel, little-one? The second I felt your mind in pain I reached out to you, but I too was swept inside that vortex of minds.
Eragon shook his head, rubbing his temple. His head still hurt, but he felt firmly like himself. I feel fine now. I've never experienced anything like that before. Why did it happen when Solembum mentioned the Rock of Kuthian? And what is this Vault of Souls? I never heard of Vroengard containing anything by that name.
I do not know, Saphira growled, and I find that I do not like that. Whoever did this to us will find my teeth in their throat.
Sitting back down, Eragon noticed that all of his wards were stripped from his person. Concerned, he set about recasting them as he spoke to Saphira. I don't think it was Galbatorix, at the very least. Why would he search our minds if not to subjugate us? And I doubt he has an interest in Vroengard. Not after all that's happened there.
I agree, but whoever did this is powerful. Strong enough to overcome such magic, and powerful enough to reach out pierce our minds so easily.
We should tread carefully, and see if anyone knows why the Rock of Kuthian would be so important. I only can recall it being a monument on Vroengard.
Saphira made to respond, but Eragon stood sharply as he heard someone open the door. His hand moved quickly back to his sword, but stopped when he saw Angela she entered the room alone, Eragon suspected that Solembum had told her what happened. Saphira quieted in his mind, watching through him as the herbalist grabbed another chair before pulling it up to the table opposite him. She never said a word, and Eragon watched as she settled down before him.
He stared at her for a long moment, but she merely waving at the seat before him, "Sit! Sit! I think we have much to discuss, you know."
Eragon gazed flicked over her face, but as always he failed to figure out anything about the witch. Sighing, he sat down, and he felt inexplicably tired. Rubbing and hand against his forehead, Eragon asked, "What did you want to talk about, Angela?"
She took out a small bag and shook it at him. He could hear something rattling inside, clanking together as her hand moved. "Why fate, of course! So many interesting things happen around you!"
Eragon's hands fell to table, gripping the edge slightly, "Do you know what happened earlier with Solembum?"
She tilted her head at him, "Only some of what he told me. He told me of the fit of pain you had, but nothing of what he spoke to you about."
Nodding, Eragon asked, "Do you know what that presence was?"
Angela's face tightened. "I'm sorry, I don't."
Frustration grew inside him, and Eragon tried to calm himself. He knew he wasn't upset with the witch, and taking it out on her would not end well for him.
She seemed to sense his frustration, and then surprisingly asked, "Do you want your fortune read, Eragon?"
Eragon rubbed the back of his neck, thinking. "You've never offed before. Why now?"
"I have my reasons," Angela stated. She didn't say anything else, nor did Eragon really expect her to.
Contemplating the matter, Eragon watched as she pulled out various bones from her bag, placing them gently down on a thick cloth that she was carrying with her. He looked at the bones, seeing the various runes and symbols etched onto their surface. "What type of bones are these?"
"Knucklebones from a dragon, though I won't tell you how I got them," Angela replied.
"Have you done this before?" Eragon asked. He knew he was stalling his answer, but he was genuinely curious if this was actual magic or one of the crazy things Angela liked to do.
"I've offered this to two others before. Only the woman agreed, her name Selena. She ended up regretting it, though. Her future was bleak and painful, and she don't think she believed it at first."
Selena? His mother? Eragon could scarcely remember her, as he was only fifteen when he became a Rider, and his memories before Saphira were harder to recall. He could remember the shape of her face, and he thought he could imagine her voice if he tried hard enough.
"Cast the bones, then." Eragon stated. If his mother could stand to hear her fortune, then so could he. He knew how the elves thought of prophecies, and he mostly agreed; but the thought of learning something useful about what the future might hold clawed at him.
Angela gathered the bones in her both her hands, closing her eyes. She seemed to be concentrating greatly, and her lips moved she spoke silently. Throwing the bones down, the witch cried out, "Manin! Wydra! Hugin!"
Memory, fate, thought? The sound of the ancient language drew his eyebrows down low, watching as Angela peered closely at the bones. She shook her head after a moment, and said, "I was right. Your fortune is easily the most tangled and clouded I've ever seen. Fate does seem to follow you around, waiting for you to stir up trouble."
Nodding, Eragon said, "So that's it? Nothing?"
The witch was still looking at the bones, her voice quiet as she spoke, "No I believe I have a few answers, at the very least."
"Here," she said, pointing at a bone. The symbol on it was a long horizontal line with a circle. "This is the easiest and clearest one to read. Infinite or long life, which is obvious because of who you are. Good to know, though, as I believe this is proof its accurate to your life."
Eragon nodded his head, chuckling at the thought. He was already nearly three hundred years old, so for Angela to tell him he was long lived wasn't very surprising.
"Here, these three are in a confusing pile." She touched the pile lightly, "The wandering path, which is a somewhat accurate description overall, a lightning bolt, and a sailing ship. All of them lying together like this, is most interesting. Nothing I've ever seen before. The wandering path shows that you have many choices that you face, even now. Great battles are fought around you, some for your own sake. I also see great powers struggling to control your will and destiny, and in all the countless possible futures I see them filled with blood. You are one of the few people who can control their own destiny, which is both a gift, and can be a responsibility more binding than chains. There is one such future, though, that is filled with peace and happiness."
"So, things we've already known," Eragon stated. "I'm not doubting your abilities, but I know where I stand."
"True enough," Angela said, "But to have it laid out like this before you can only be proof that you are an important figure in our unwritten destiny. But there is more, I'm afraid. Here, the lightning bolt. Though its positioning is most odd, for it tells of a great doom that has already befallen you. One part lies in a death that has already passed, but this foretells much grief in the future over it. Something will happen, that much is clear, that has to do greatly with what has already transpired."
Her face had fallen as she spoke, as though saddened by his fate. Angela continued, "This bone, the sailing ship, shows that your fate will be to leave this land. Its unavoidable, no matter how hard you try. What is interesting, though, is that you've already left Alagaësia and returned. The way this bone lays, I cannot say whether or not you will ever return again."
Eragon crossed his arms, deep in thought. He knew the great doom that had already befallen him, but the thought of future events being influenced by it was not something he was fond of thinking about. The death of Naevir and the fate of the crazed purple dragon weighed heavily on Eragon's mind.
"This next bone is much easier to read. The rose blossom, between the horns of a crescent moon. A curious reading for one such as yourself, Eragon." Angela rubbed at her temples before gesturing towards the bone. She smiled at Eragon, a twinkle in her eye, "An epic romance is in your future, extraordinary as the moon indicates, and strong enough to outlast empires. I cannot say if this passion will end happily, but your love is of noble birth and heritage. She is powerful, wise, and beautiful beyond compare."
Eragon's face dipped lower as she spoke, coming to a rest in his hands. You've got to be kidding me, he thought. A glance up at the witch told him she was still smiling, her eyes fixed on his form. He leaned back in the chair and groaned, rubbing his hand through his hair. His mind at once jumped to Arya, and Eragon felt like banging his head against the table in front of him. Beautiful beyond compare? Noble birth? Wise, and powerful? There are few enough that fit that description, Eragon thought, and she so happens to fit all of them.
Rubbing his forehead, the Rider said nothing, motioning at Angela. "Is there anything else?"
Shaking her head, the witch said, "No, I don't believe so. The rest is a jumbled mess. There's more there, but I can't make it out. Not now, at least."
"An interesting fortune." Eragon stated. He rubbed at his both of his eyes, feeling the weight of the last hour on his shoulders. First, the incident with the powerful presence, now Angela unceremoniously placing his fortune in his head. He still couldn't move his mind from Arya, but at the very least he resolved that he wouldn't go running up and professing all of this to the elf. Certainly, the absolute last thing she needed now was this.
"I would say so." Angela was grinning at him, but her face grew serious. "Fate is a powerful thing, Eragon. Forces move outside your control, but you are perhaps the only person here who can change their own destiny."
"Thank you, Angela," Eragon muttered, standing from the table." For the fortune. I need to get going, though. I've tallied here long enough, and I think we are both needed elsewhere."
The witch nodded, gathering her supplies as she stood. "I will see you later, Rider. Give my regards to Saphira, please."
Nodding, Eragon turned and exited the room, his mind swimming. He felt the soft press of Saphira back in his mind, and he couldn't remember when she withdrew.
Anything interesting, little one? Saphira asked. He knew that she wouldn't press him to share, but he also knew she would tease him endlessly if her told her about the romance.
You could say that. Eragon said. He was still debating with himself, but he decided to share the memory with her. Eragon continued down the halls of Tronjheim, heading back to the healers to see if they needed his assistance still.
When Saphira was done viewing the memory, Eragon half expected the teasing to start. Instead, she softly said, Little one, what do you plan to do?
With what? Eragon asked.
Arya.
Ah, so she surmised that much as well. It might not be her, Eragon argued.
And if it is? Saphira questioned. Her tone was soft, her words gentle as they entered his mind.
If it is, it means nothing. I will not pursue her. I've already told Brom this, and you. Eragon retorted. His steps grew agitated as he walked. There were few enough roaming the halls this late, but Eragon's countenance had nearly all of them wary.
Fate may not give you the choice, little one.
So you subscribe to fate? That everything that will happen to us is already dictated?
Saphira snorted in his mind, the sound odd since he couldn't actually hear it. No, you know that. But you might find that somethings are ultimately inevitable, no matter how much you squirm under the heels of destiny.
Eragon returned to the healers, finding that they were still overwhelmed by the number of soldiers that were injured. He set about helping as best he could. The ancient language left his mouth in a near continuous stream as he worked. It continued like that for a few more hours, with him moving from soldier to soldier. It wasn't until a runner appeared that Eragon finally stopped.
"Eragon, m 'lord, Ajihad has summoned you," said a young boy, no more than thirteen years of age. The Rider was surprised to see someone so young still with the Varden, but the rebels did often need any help they could find.
"Thank you, you've delivered your message well," He trailed off, his tone pitched as he waited for the boy's name.
"Me names Jarsha, Shadeslayer." The boy beamed at him, and Eragon motioned for Jarsha to lead him forward.
The left the city quickly, and Eragon noted that they were heading towards the few remaining tunnels left in Farthen Dûr. The boy said nothing as they walked, but Eragon could see a smile still on his face. Ahead, he could see Ajihad standing with a small number of soldiers, as well as the presence of the two twins. Their reappearance unsettled Eragon. Ajihad was already conversing with them quietly, his expression stern.
They boy Jarsha announced Eragon's presence, bowing deeply to the Rider and Varden leader before turning back into the city. To the side, Eragon could make out some Dwarves digging, and Eragon assumed they were trying to reopen a few of the tunnels for use. Ajihad, finished with his conversation with the twin magicians, turned to Eragon.
"Eragon, thank you for coming. As you can see, the twins have returned with news. There are still some Urgal's left in the tunnels, and they've divined their locations with magic. The Urgal's are in two of the main tunnels, and I will take a group of soldiers as well as the twins with me down one of the tunnels in pursuit." Ajihad commanded. At his words, Eragon looked at the Twins.
He wanted to ask where they had been after the battle, but Ajihad continued, "I ask that you take the other if you are able. I can send some soldiers with you if you'd like." Eragon shook his head, his gaze still watching the twins. Seeing his eyes locked onto the magicians, Ajihad raised a brow, but said nothing on the matter.
Why return now? I don't like this, Eragon thought. He may not have trusted the magicians, but Ajihad did. The man was a great leader, and Eragon would defer to his judgement for the time being. "No, I can hunt the Urgal's much better on my own."
"Very well. Here, you may need this," Ajihad handed him a dwarven map, one that was recently updated to show the collapsed tunnels. The dark-skinned man pointed at one of the tunnels, and said, "Here is where we will be. If you find yourself completing the task before we do, I ask that you join us. There's a few passages in between that remain that can lead you to us."
Nodding, Eragon studied the map closely before storing it in the folds of his tunic. He wasn't wearing his armor, nor did he have a shield with him, only wearing the elven tunic and leggings meant to be worn under the metal. "I will meet up with you as soon as I am able."
Ajihad inclined his head, and began to order his soldiers to move out. The twins ignored his stare, turning to follow the Varden leader. Eragon stared at them as they left, before turning and making his way through the fields of Tronjheim, heading for the other tunnel.
His trek did not take him long, for he could move as swiftly as even the fastest of elves. As he approached the tunnel, Eragon realized that it was the one the dwarves had held not too long ago. There were still corpses of the Urgal's remaining, but the men of the Varden were still in the process of carting them off. Where they would take, Eragon knew not, and he dismissed the train of thought.
He stopped before the entrance of the tunnel, raising his hand in greeting to the few dwarven soldiers stationed there. They nodded at him, saying "Agretlam," and one dwarf motioned for him to continue. Eragon expected some to spit at his feet, but none did so. He never could tell which dwarves took offense to his presence as a Rider, and which hailed him as a hero of the Varden.
Gazing down the dark tunnel, Eragon began to weave his wards tightly around him. Because he wore no armor, Eragon added a few more than he usually did, hoping that the wards would help make up for his lack of protection. He could move quickly without the armor, but he would have to watch more carefully that he wasn't caught of guard. Deep in his mind, he could feel Saphira watching his movements, their bond stretching thin from the distance.
In the past, she would have argued for her to join him, stating that only she could guarantee his safety. The two centuries that had gone by eased her overbearing attitude mostly, but he always knew she worried over him. Now she was confident in his abilities, something that always filled Eragon with pride. To know that he Saphira thought him a fearsome warrior in his own right humbled him, for there was no greater praise from a dragon.
He jogged slightly in the tunnel, his steps light as he continued. He cast the spell to summon a werelight, the soft blue rising above his head to illuminate the path. He whispered some more in the ancient language; various enchantments that would tell him if someone was nearby. For nearly a quarter of an hour he continued, and during his journey he was quick to spot signs of the passage of Urgal's. Seems the twins were right, at the very least. There have been Urgal's moving through. These footsteps are too fresh, and lead deeper into the tunnel.
He could barely feel Saphira now, so far from Tronjheim. She was still guarding the egg in their temporary quarters. Eragon slowed his pace, his ears catching the faint sounds that echoed down the tunnel. Large crushing steps gave away the Urgal's, as well as the harsh tones of their language. The group ahead were speaking, but Eragon couldn't make out the garbled tongue as it reverberated off the walls.
Eragon came upon them silently, rounding a bend in the tunnel. He counted at least a dozen Urgal's, one of which was a Kull. A quick glance told him none wore the markings of one of their spellcasters, and Eragon slid Brisingr from its sheath. The blade was quiet as it exited its home, and Eragon readied himself.
By the time the Urgal's realized he was there, Eragon had already killed one of them, its body hitting heavily on the rocky ground underneath. The Kull roared its challenged, attempting to charge him and skewer him on its massive horns. He twisted out of the way, Brisingr's edge biting into another Urgal as he went. Before long, even the Kull was down, leaving Eragon standing alone in the tunnel. He listened for a moment, trying to hear if there were any other Urgal's nearby waiting in ambush.
When none appeared, he continued walking down the tunnel, his sword held tightly in his hands. In the end, Eragon stumbled upon three more groups of Urgals, each of them around the same size in number. There were only a few Kull among the band of Urgal's, but still no signs of spellcasters. Only when Eragon was certain his area was secure did he retreat back down the tunnel, pulling out the dwarven map Ajihad had given him.
It took him a moment to figure out his position, as he was unaccustomed to the tunnel maps the dwarves made, but he eventually thought he figured it out from the various markings on the paper. His knowledge of the dwarven writing was lacking at best, though he could speak the language easily enough. He used the contours of the tunnel to help him identify his bearing.
Stowing the paper, Eragon continued down the tunnel, eyes glancing as he tried to find the opening to the passage that would lead him to Ajihad's group. When he did, Eragon consulted the map quickly, and figured that he was probably correct in his navigation. The passage was smaller than the large tunnel he was just in, the walls too narrow for more than two men to walk down. Saphira would have never fit down it, the passage being clearly made for the dwarves, barely tall enough for men.
He travelled down the twisting passage quickly, hearing nothing but his own steps accompanying him. As he emerged from the tunnel into a larger one, Eragon heard the sounds of metal striking metal in the distance. He broke into a sprint, not caring how loud his steps were now. He pushed himself faster, hearing men shouting and Urgal's roaring as they fought.
He saw them in the distance, the faint light of dwarven lanterns barely illuminating the figures before him. Eragon strained himself as he ran towards the group, and he could see Ajihad among them. Already there were bodies of soldiers strewn across the floor, slain by the Urgals. A Urgal dropped as Eragon neared, watching as Ajihad's sword emerged from the creature, blood dripping down the blade. For a brief moment, Eragon looked past the few remaining soldiers and Urgal's, spotting two figures moving away quickly in the distance, their forms barely visible in the darkness.
Dismissing it for the moment, Eragon neared the Varden Leader, but he was still too far away. It happened almost in slow motion, watching as Ajihad struck down another Urgal, turning to face his next opponent. The Varden leader blocked a blow from the Urgal, his back turned to the others. A Urgal moved, its axe high in the air behind Ajihad, and Eragon raised his hand to shout a spell.
"Jierda!" He yelled, but his spell reached the Urgal too late. The crude ax fell, digging into the exposed neck of the Varden Leader. Eragon's spell finally struck the Urgal, killing it instantly. Eragon watched in horror as Ajihad fell. He could feel his heart pound in chest from the sight.
Anger flowed through him as he struck at the Urgal Ajihad had been fighting, Brisingr cleaving its way through flesh. Eragon killed the remaining Urgals quickly, watching as two remaining Varden soldiers killed the last one. He was breathing heavily as he approached the Varden Leader, and he said to the soldiers, "Keep an eye out for others."
They looked torn, their concern for Ajihad's condition evident, but they both nodded and turned away. Eragon kneeled next to the man, watching as blood flowed from the wound. The axe was buried deep into the junction of his neck and shoulder, and Eragon knew from how quickly the blood flowed that Ajihad would not live. He whispered a spell, the sapphire magic washing over Ajihad, and the dark-skinned man turned his eyes to the Rider.
Holding the spell, Eragon saw Ajihad motion weakly at him, beckoning with his hand. He moved in closer, his eyes fixed on the wound. So long as the axe remained, Eragon would be unable to repair more of the damage. Ajihad attempted to speak, but was unable to, so Eragon directed the spell at the man's vocal cords, traumatized from the blow.
After a moment, Ajihad spoke, and Eragon felt the strain of magic as it failed to heal the Varden leader more. "Eragon."
"Yes, Ajihad. I'm here."
The man swallowed heavily, the movement seeming to pain him. "You must promise me something: Promise me that the Varden will not descend into chaos. They are the only hope… against the Empire. Promise me."
Speaking in the ancient language, Eragon replied, "Wiol ono, eka wilae."
Though the man did not understand the elven words, he seamed to relax at them, understanding the binding oath that Eragon had given. Ajihad's eyes closed, and Eragon ended the spell. For a man surrounded by death, Ajihad seemed at peace, his noble features relaxed.
Eragon bowed his head, feeling a lump in his throat. Death was unavoidable, and Eragon had seen plenty in his life. The loss of the great man would tear into the Varden, threatening everything Ajihad had ever accomplished.
Turning to one of the soldiers, Eragon commanded, "Go, and get Jörmundur and Nasuada. Say nothing to anyone. We cannot let the people of the Varden find out through rumors alone that their leader is dead."
The man nodded, his face pale. Eragon could see the soldier's hands shake as he walked down the tunnel to the city.
Eragon heard a small company of soldiers arrive from the direction of Tronjheim him as he waited, leaning against the wall beside Ajihad's body. Brisingr's tip was dug slightly into the ground, Eragon balancing the blade from the pommel. His palms stung from how hard he was gripping the blade.
Behind them, Eragon could make out the heavy steps of Saphira, though he had felt her approach long before the sound had reached him. Her mind sought his out as they drew close, melding as they shared in their grief. Ajihad and Eragon may have disagreed about some things, particularly Eragon's place inside the Varden, but Eragon felt that their common goal was something that aligned them together.
The Rider and dragon said no words between them, letting their emotions speak in their stead. He could feel her mind running through his memories of Ajihad's death, comforting him as she watched the man fall to the Urgals.
The gathering of people neared Eragon, and he saw the soldier that remained with him bow to Jörmundur and Nasuada. The old soldier appeared stricken as he neared, his face drawn in on itself. Nasuada had tears streaming down her face, and he watched as she ran forward, collapsing next to Ajihad on the ground.
Eragon saw Orik as well, watching as the dwarf cursed loudly. He approached Eragon, swinging his ax into the body of a nearby Urgal. "Barzûln. This is not good, Eragon. The peace that was held by the Varden will break, and I fear what will follow."
"Aye," Eragon responded.
Jörmundur approached them, and Eragon blinked when he realized Arya was next to the advisor. She was studying Ajihad's fallen form, her expression filled with sorrow. She whispered a few words in the ancient language, but Eragon could not catch them, the trill of her musical voice disappearing into the darkness surrounding them.
"Did any escape?" Jörmundur asked, speaking to Eragon as he bent beside Nasuada. He rested one of his hands on her shoulder, the other touching Ajihad lightly.
"Of the Urgal's, no. I killed them," Eragon said. He could feel the bitterness in his tone, but he did not push it away. "I only made out two figures in the distance escaping. I could not tell who, but I'm sure it wasn't any Urgals."
Jörmundur remained kneeling next to Nasuada, but did not respond right away to Eragon. "My old friend, that fate could be so cruel that I could not be by your side when you needed me…Right as we secured a great victory, that you should be taken from us at such a time.."
Standing quickly, Jörmundur gazed at the fallen soldiers around them. Eragon and the other soldier that survived had moved the bodies, placing them away from the slain Urgals. "I do not see the twins among the dead."
"No," Eragon stated.
The grizzled soldier nodded, turning to face the assembled soldiers. Lowly, Jörmundur said, "We will post Guards here, and as soon as the dwarven guides get here we will send a search party."
Gesturing at Ajihad, the advisor said, "Ajihad has died a warrior's death! Bear him and the others on your shields back to city."
The soldiers moved about, gathering the fallen soldiers and their dead leader. Eragon joined Arya's side, Orik following behind him. The dwarfs face was grim, and he was clutching the ax tightly in his grip. Arya remained still, staring at Ajihad. "There's been too much death recently," Eragon murmured.
"Aye," Orik said. "There will only be more in the coming times, I'm afraid."