The following morning a page sent by Nasuada led him through the newly erected tents towards the magicians who aided the Varden. Trianna's tent was hidden behind a spur of rock, though to Eragon it seemed to provide poor covering. Galbatorix's magicians would not be fooled by a simple outcropping, as magic would easily over come such things. Still, Eragon did not begrudge them any attempt to shield themselves from their enemy.
In front of the black tent stood Trianna, the sorceress already waiting for him. Behind the sorceress stood a group of spellcasters, many of them Eragon recognized from his time in Farthen Dûr. He had helped heal soldiers alongside them after the battle, and they offered him polite nods as he approached. Saphira was not accompanying him, instead standing in his place in another meeting Nasuada had called.
Trianna raised her hands in greeting, which Eragon returned. "Shadeslayer, what brings you to our door? You have never deigned to visit us before, we who are more your brethren than any other in the Varden."
"I've been busy," Eragon retorted, trying to not let his frustration rise. "Forgive me for not meeting with you earlier, Trianna, but there were many other things of import that needed my attention."
The sorceress inclined her head, though Eragon did not know if she accepted his explanation. "Why are you here now, then?"
"I am here not to command you, Trianna," Eragon said, watching as the woman stiffened. "I am only here so that we may be able to assist each other in the war. It would be our undoing if we did not focus our efforts together, and I need to know that we can work together to accomplish our goals."
"You do not wish to lead us?" The question came from one of the men standing behind Trianna, his face showing puzzlement.
"Not directly, no." Eragon answered. "I do not intend to ignore your council, but I cannot devote myself to overseeing your every move. I am not officially apart of the Varden, so I cannot command you directly. Instead, I am offering to join forces and strategize our best offense against the Empire's battle-mages."
Trianna pondered his words for a minute, her head sweeping across Eragon, who had remained still with his arms crossed. He could tell she had grown accustomed to her position of authority, not willing to give it up now that she had it. "Nasuada has no direct authority over us, for we provide our services of our own free will. That said, I can see the wisdom of your words, Rider." She bowed to him, "That said, we would be honored to aid you for the good of the Varden."
"I am glad." Eragon stated. "My plan is a simple one. You and your spellcasters will join minds and root out any magicians you can find among the enemy, and I will add my strength to your own when you find one. Together, we will crush their resistance, so that we can slay their warded soldiers with ease. In the meantime, I will fight alongside Saphira and the others."
Trianna nodded her head, accepting his plan. For long hours Eragon spent quizzing the magicians that were assembled, wishing to understand their knowledge and capabilities with gramarye. Many of the members of Du Vrangr Gata were not present, out completing their duties alongside the soldiers of the Varden. For those that were present, Eragon tried to add to their dictionary of spells. Many where nowhere near close to fluent in the ancient language, barely knowing enough of the words to form a proper spell.
It was a common affliction among the human spellcasters, one that persisted even two hundred years ago. Magic was more widespread before the Fall, but even back then many had feared the unknown power that magicians wielded. Where he could, Eragon would correct their grammar and pronunciation, and he gave those considered healers spells to memorize that would aid their efforts.
With Trianna's help, Eragon was able to lay out a structure of command for the magicians, placing those who were capable over those who still had much to learn of magic. It was difficult getting many of the more contentious magicians to cooperate, though Trianna's glare often aided their efforts. By midday many of the spellcasters switched out with their brethren, those returning from their duties eager to learn all that Eragon would teach them.
It was near evening that Eragon drew their lesson to an end, letting the magicians go after seeing how exhausted they were from practicing magic. He would return when he could in the coming days before the Empire arrived, though he did not want to waste all of the magician's efforts and leave them useless against their enemy. Trianna promised to aid him should the need arise, and Eragon departed for Nasuada's tent.
The Nighthawk captain guarding the tent was not Garven, and the man did not give him his name as Eragon waited for admittance. A sharp call from the inside had the soldiers peeling back the flap, and Eragon stepped passed them to enter. Nasuada was standing before the table in the center of the tent, and Eragon could see that the soldiers of the Varden had indeed filled the interior with more furnishings than before.
Brom was standing beside Nasuada, and Eragon was glad to see that his father's countenance from last night was gone. Instead, his father looked determined, as though Glaedr's conversation with Brom had reinvigorated his drive. Arya nodded at him as he approached, and Eragon let his hand trail across Saphira's head from where it was protruding through the tent. Their minds flowed together, and Eragon saw from her memories that he had not missed very much from his time with the magicians.
"Eragon, was your meeting with Du Vrangr Gata a success?" Nasuada asked, her eyes flicking up from the map to meet his own.
"It was," Eragon said. He stopped next to Arya, turning his gaze towards the map Nasuada had been studying. On it were small markings depicting the Varden's location next to the Jiet River, as well as the various defenses that were being finished. To the north of their position were lines drawn from another marking, showcasing the possible movement of the Empire's army. "We have come to a consensus, and they will join their strength with my own against Galbatorix's magicians."
"Good," Nasuada said. "That is one less worry I have to deal with. Trianna is skilled, but often rebukes my attempts to direct her people." The woman sighed, motioning for Brom to speak.
"Our best guess shows the Empire arriving by late evening tomorrow," Brom explained. His finger traced over the map, following one of the thicker lines drawn from the previous reported position of the Empire. "I do not anticipate them attacking us immediately, which should give us some chance to shore up our defenses further."
"Yesterday you said three days," Eragon pointed out. "So they must be moving faster than we previously thought."
"Yes," Arya answered. "The commanders of Galbatorix's army are certainly pushing their men."
"Sounds like fun," Eragon stated. Arya looked at him askance, and even his father shot him a disproving look.
You sound more like Glenwing by the day, Saphira said to him.
Eragon sighed, Great.
Indeed, Brom's estimation was correct, as the next day Eragon watched as a large mass slowly assembled before them to the north. It was late evening when they stopped some distance away from the Varden, the no man's land between them filling already with vultures. The birds had not seen a war on this scale in near a century, and were eager for their fill, cawing loudly as they circled the two armies.
Eragon had finished training some more of the magicians of the Varden by midday, and for the rest of the day he and Saphira watched from the front as the soldiers of the Empire swelled in numbers. Galbatorix's army made no move to attack them, as Brom predicted, though it hardly set the Varden at ease. Glenwing had joined him a few hours into his watch, the elf adorned in the same armor he wore in Farthen Dûr. The elf kept glancing at his side, as though expecting Fäolin to suddenly appear, driving a spear of ice into Eragon's heart.
Fírnen was behind Saphira, and Arya had some of Orik's dwarves fashion him some temporary armor. The mismatched plating aided in the ferocious appearance of the green dragon, though Orik seemed displeased by how unsightly it looked. He had sworn to the dragon that the dwarves would make him armor to match Saphira's, stating that it would be a stain on his clan's honor to leave the dragon with his current gear. Glenwing leaned against Saphira beside him, all three of them keeping a silent watch on the Empire.
A lone rider appeared from the Empire late into the night, the only sign of approach the torch the rider held high above him. Eragon reached out with his mind, softly touching both Brom's and Arya's mind deep within the Varden's camp.
Arya was the first to lower her shields, the music of her mind giving Eragon pause for a moment. Brom soon followed suite, the both of them waiting for him to speak.
A rider approaches from the Empire, Eragon stated.
Acknowledgement flowed from them, and he felt his father's mind break from his as Brom no doubt informed Nasuada. Arya remained connected to him, and he could feel the distance between them decrease as she made her way towards the front.
Saphira stood, forcing Glenwing and Eragon fully onto their feet. Men of the Varden assembled into tight groups, so Eragon waded his way towards them. Eragon positioned themselves behind the soldiers, using Saphira's eyes to see high above the heads of the Varden. Quick footsteps alerted him to Arya, who pushed her way past the other soldiers. She stopped next to him, her hand gripping Támerlein in its hilt.
Before long Brom and Nasuada appeared and Orik followed with his dwarven brethren. Together they waited for the messenger to close the remaining distance, no words spoken between them. The horse neighed loudly as the rider pulled on its reins, the black stallion turning to the side as the horseman raised his torch to the assembled Varden.
"I speak for Galbatorix, ruler of the Broddring Empire, True King of Alagaësia, slayer of dragons and Riders! Nasuada, Daughter of Ajihad and Leader of the Varden, my King askes for your immediate surrender! Turn over the Rider known as Eragon, and the egg you stole, and all will be forgiven! Accept Galbatorix's rule, or be destroyed by his power!"
He doesn't know the egg hatched. Eragon thought. It seems their efforts to conceal Arya as the new Rider were successful, then. He casted a glance behind him at Fírnen, who was now standing besides Saphira. The green dragon roared in defiance, a jet of green fire leaving his maw. Arya jumped in surprise next to him, a smile gracing her lips despite the severity of the situation.
The messenger's face was cast in green fire as it further illuminated his features, surprise filling the man's face. Fírnen cut off the flames, unable to sustain them for too long.
A quick nod from Nasuada had Eragon drawing Brisingr, the sword held high above his head. "Here is Galbatorix's answer!"
Saphira roared, and let loose a massive flame, the size dwarfing the one Fírnen had loosed. It was so large that its glare licked at the edges of the Empire's army, their black armor painted faintly blue. The heat was so intense that the soldiers in front of her ducked, and even Brom seemed impressed by the flames. The air crackled from the heat as Saphira held it, and the messenger's horse raised itself onto its back legs as fear engulfed the creature. It took the rider a moment to steady the beast, and Eragon could feel the fear emanating from the poor horse.
Without another word the messenger turned the stallion around, racing back towards the Empire. Saphira cut off the flames, closing her maw with a loud snort. Eragon patted her side, his side tingling from the lingering heat. That was amazing, Saphira. I've never seen you let loose something of that size before.
Saphira hummed, her shoulder bumping into his at his praise. Nasuada inclined her head at them, and she and his father began to speak in low voices. Soldiers cheered, praises ringing out from the men towards the two dragons.
"Well," came a voice behind him, "That was most impressive, both of you."
Eragon smiled and turned, not unsurprised that the witch Angela had appeared suddenly behind him. Solembum was in his feline form, winding his way between their feet to make his way towards the two dragons. Fírnen bent his neck down, his amber eyes meeting the werecat. Arya turned to the witch, the small smile she had before lingering on her mouth.
"Wise one," Arya greeted.
Eragon said nothing, inclining his head to the woman. Angela ignored him, striding forward to grasp Arya's left hand. The elf recoiled slightly, though she did not pull her arm away from the witch. Angela opened Arya's palm, her eyes roaming the Gedwëy Ignasia.
"So its true, you have been made a Rider," Angela stated. The witch let go of Arya's hand, her eyes moving toward Fírnen.
"Yes," Arya answered.
Eragon voiced the question that suddenly rose, "We've been with the Varden for days now, Angela. How did you not know?"
"I've been busy," the witch answered, her gaze not leaving Fírnen. "There are many things I've had to prepare for, and you will be glad that I have done so."
"Hmm." Eragon said.
Nasuada dismissed the soldiers soon after, leaving only those who were stationed in the front behind to watch the line. As etiquette demanded, they would wait until they received a reply from Galbatorix's army. Brom left at Nasuada's side, his father's eyes meeting his for a moment. Eragon inclined his head, watching as the soldiers around them disappeared.
Angela lingered for a while, speaking with Arya and Fírnen. Eragon waited besides Saphira and Glenwing, his gaze lingering on the Empire in the distance. He was drawn from his stare by a nudge from Glenwing, who said, "There is no point in staying here, Eragon. We need to rest for the upcoming battle. Let these soldiers do their duties in peace."
"Aye," Eragon muttered. He hated waiting around for a battle, always feeling like he needed to do something. The feeling never disappeared, even after all the centuries that had passed. It wasn't the first battle he fought, but it was the first war he had waged that truly meant something to him.
Glenwing pulled him from the front, guiding Eragon towards his tent. With a weary sigh, Eragon laid his head down for the night, unable to stop the sense of dread that built inside of him.
Three days had passed with no word from the Empire, and Eragon spent much of his time assisting the Varden wherever he was able to lend a hand. He would field questions from Orrin and his ilk about Ellesméra and his journey outside Alagaësia in the morning, and would by midday train the magicians of Du Vrangr Gata as best he could. By late evening he would be working alongside the blacksmiths, helping straighten and repair any armor too damaged for use.
At the end of each day he would meet again with Nasuada and the others, who would not have anything new to say of the Empire and the battle that awaited them. Saphira and Fírnen mostly rested, though whenever he passed by his tent he would often find Solembum with them.
The end of the third day was different, for a runner had arrived at his tent when the sun was barely above the horizon. "Nasuada asks your presence, Shadeslayer. It is most urgent if I may."
Eragon thanked the runner, taking up a quick jog next to Saphira and Fírnen as they made their way towards Nasuada's tent. He suspected that Arya was already with Nasuada, as Fírnen often grew bored with the various meetings she had to attend and often accompanied Saphira instead.
Garven quickly bid him entrance to the command tent, and Saphira pushed her head through the opening behind him. At the table before him stood Nasuada and her commanders, each of the men drawing a sword at his entrance. Ignoring them, Eragon strode forward as Arya moved to make room beside her. Brom nodded at him, and Eragon asked, "What is it?"
"Our scouts report that a company of some hundred Kull approach from the northeast," Nasuada said.
"Do they intend to fight us?" Eragon asked. He had thought after slaying Durza that the Urgals were no longer under Galbatorix's control, seeing how heavy a blow they sustained during the battle of Farthen Dûr.
"They wave a white flag, and have asked an audience with Nasuada," Brom answered.
Eragon's eye twitched as he refrained from saying anything. He did not particularly dislike Urgals, though he knew not what they wished to discuss with Nasuada.
Nasuada fielded grievances from her commanders, Jörmundur the most against the thought of Urgal's meeting with the Varden Leader. In the end, Nasuada ordered them to open her tent to the outside, taking a seat in her high-backed chair. Eragon stood next to Arya to Nasuada's left, opposite Brom. Saphira was too large to fit inside fully, so she and Fírnen remained outside the tent.
Arya glanced at him, but neither of them commented on the matter as they waited for the Urgal's arrival. It didn't take long for the sounds of anger to rise from the eastern edge of the Varden, the sound following the Urgal that strode proudly through the Varden. The Urgal was alone, and Eragon briefly admired the courage the ram displayed. The Kull was tall, nearly eight and a half feet in total, with strong proud features. The Kull was heavily muscled, with horns that spiraled all the way around his head.
As the Kull approached amid the jeering and shouts, Eragon saw that the Kull only wore a knotted loincloth and few pieces of crude armor. The Urgal barred his teeth at the soldiers, though he did not react as Eragon had seen many Urgal's before do.
The ram stopped before the open pavilion, and Nasuada had to order her guards to quell the soldier's shouts. Eragon crossed his arms behind his back, displaying for all the world a sense of ease that he did not feel.
The Urgal bellowed loudly at Nasuada, his arms raised to the sky as swords pointed at the Kull. He did not seem to pay attention to them, instead watching only Nasuada as he finished. Thick words sprung from the Urgal's lips, his accent heavy in the air, "What treachery is this, Lady Nightstalker? I was promised safe passage. Do humans break their words so easily?"
One of Nasuada's commanders murmured about teaching the Kull a lesson, and Nasuada shook her head at him. Brom leaned down and spoke quietly in Nasuada's ears, explaining to Nasuada the custom of Urgal's.
She murmured back to him quickly before turning back to the Urgal. "The Varden are not liars like Galbatorix and the Empire," she said loudly, both to the Kull and the gathered crowd. "Speak your mind; you need not fear any danger while we hold council under the conditions of truce."
The Urgal grunted and barred his throat to Nasuada in the Urgal gesture of friendship. "I am Nar Garzhvog of the Bolvek tribe. I speak for my people. Urgal's are hated more than any other race. We are driven from our halls, hunted and burned."
"Not without reason," Nasuada interjected.
Garzhvog nodded his head, the horns nearly touching his shoulders at the movement. "No, not without reason. Our people love war, yet how often are we attack just because you find us as ugly as we find you?"
Eragon snorted, trying to hid his amusement. Arya elbowed him, her eyes still on the Urgal before them. He grunted at the impact, though it he hardly felt it through his armor.
The Urgal continued, ignoring him, "We have thrived since the fall of the Riders, and our tribes are now so large that the harsh lands we live on can no longer feed us."
"So you made a pact with Galbatorix," Nasuada nodded.
"Aye, Lady Nightstalker. He promised us good land if we killed his enemies. He tricked us with his flame-haired shaman, who bent the minds of our war chiefs and forced our tribes to work together. This is not our way, and when we learned this in the dwarves' hollow mountain, the Herndall, the dams who rule us, sent my brood mate to Galbatorix to ask why he used us so." Garzhvog shook his head, and Eragon felt empathy for the Urgal's loss. "She did not return. Our finest rams died for Galbatorix, only for him to abandon his promise to us. He is a snake-tongued lack-horned betrayer, Lady Nightstalker, and though we are fewer now, we will fight with you if you let us."
"And your price?" Nasuada asked, "Your Herndall must want something in return, surely."
"Galbatorix's blood. And if the Empire falls, we ask that you give us land that we may live on, so that we can avoid more battles in the future," Garzhvog answered.
Jörmundur protested, though Eragon could see that Nasuada had already made up her mind. A glance at Brom showed Eragon that his father agreed with her.
Nasuada nodded, raising her voice over the others. "Very well, Nar Garzhvog. You and your warriors may bivouac along the eastern edge of our army, away from the main body. We shall then discuss the terms of our pact."
"Ahgrat ukmar," Garzhvog growled. The Kull clapped his fists to his brow. "You are a wise Herndall, Lady Nightstalker."
"Why do you call me that?" Nasuada questioned.
"Herndall?"
No, Nightstalker," Nasuada replied.
The Kull laughed, his throat making an odd sound. "Nightstalker is the name we gave your sire because of how he hunted us in the dark tunnels under the dwarf mountain and because of the color of his hide. As his cub, you are worthy of the same."
The Kull left, turning on his heels as he returned to his people. Nasuada stood, loudly proclaiming to the gathered soldiers that the Urgal's were to be treated the same as any Varden soldier. Distaste was clear on the soldiers faces, though none of them said a word of protest.
A figure made itself known in the distance, the cape flapping in the wind making itself known to Eragon as King Orrin. The King panted as he approached, though he was able to cry out, "Nasuada!"
The soldiers quickly parted for the King, allowing him to approach Nasuada. Before she could respond, Orrin continued, "Is it true you've met with an Urgal? Why wasn't I alerted earlier? I could see no reason to meet with such creatures!"
Nasuada frowned, but was unable to speak, for a call from a sentry interrupted her. "A horseman approaches from the Empire!"
Eragon let out a sigh. One thing after another…
Nasuada pushed her way through, and Orrin followed in quickly behind her, his argument forgotten. Eragon jumped quickly onto Saphira's back, catching in his purview Arya doing the same. They made their way quickly to the front, soldiers falling in behind Nasuada as she made her way. Fírnen strode steadily beside Saphira, and Eragon shared a worried glance with Arya.
A rider approached from the no man's land between, and Eragon saw that it was a different messenger this time. The soldier stopped the horse nearly thirty yards away from the Varden's defenses, and Eragon felt the soldiers mind shielded from him. Silently, under his breath, Eragon began muttering a spell in the ancient language. The Empire soldier shouted, "By refusing King Galbatorix's generous terms of surrender, you choose death as your fate. If any of you still hold regard for your rightful sovereign, the all-knowing, all-powerful Galbatorix, then flee! None may stand before us once we set forth to cleanse Alagaësia of every traitor and miscreant.
"The two Riders in the Varden will be held accountable for their actions, and the King will have them escorted to Urû'baen to face his judgement! He knows how venomous words can sway the minds of even Riders, and so your leaders will not share in the same mercies. Those who remain will be gently chastised, and the unlawful territories will be returned to King Galbatorix's rightful rule. So flee, I say, or suffer the doom of your herald."
As soon as the messenger finished speaking, Eragon held up a hand and unleased his spell. There was a massive clap as lightning sprung forth from his hand, striking just in front of the horseman in an instant. The bolt was nearly as thick as his arm, and Eragon cut the spell off before it could try to branch out further. The horse reared back in fear, the creature turning and running despite the horseman's attempts to control the stallion.
Surprised eyes turned towards him, awe evident in the Varden's eyes. A man cheered loudly, and the call inspired the rest of the Varden to follow suite. Nasuada smiled at him, but when he glanced over to Arya he saw a frown marring her face.
Nasuada clasped her hands, drawing Eragon's attention away from the elf, "They will attack at dawn, I think." She eyed him for a moment, then said, "Position yourself where you see fit, Eragon. Anything else will be relayed to you through Du Vrangr Gata." Nasuada grabbed Orrin by the shoulder, steering him back towards the rear of the Varden. "Sire, there are decisions we must make. I have a plan, though it will…"
Her words trailed off as both she and the King disappeared behind the tents, and Eragon turned to survey the empty space between the Varden and the Empire once more. Saphira snorted and turned away, forcing him to break his vigil as she waded her way back through the tents.
Nigh approached quickly as Eragon checked Saphira's armor over. He tightened the various leather straps, as well as ensuring all of his wards were still in place. They were situated near the front of the Varden, able to keep a vigilant eye on the Empire stretched out before them.
Eragon had made sure the bag containing the Eldunarí was secured to Saphira's saddle, placing around it more wards than he had ever done before. Glaedr would aid them in battle, the dragon swore, in order to replenish their strength. Though Eragon did not know if the purple Eldunarí would make an appearance, as the dragon's mind was still encased by powerful shields.
Glenwing was beside Saphira, talking with the dragon, though his words were soft and bereft of his usual jubilance. Footsteps behind him alerted him to Arya's arrival, even as he was long since aware of her approach from the feel of her mind. Continuing his work, Eragon probed the metal protecting Saphira's tail, and he frowned when Saphira moved it away from him.
"Arya," Eragon greeted, taking a step to follow Saphira's tail. The dragon snorted when he grabbed her tail, once more pulling it away from him.
It is fine, little-one. Saphira said to him, quit worrying over the armor.
Eragon sighed, turning to face the elf. Arya swept her gaze over him quickly before returning to the battlements. "Are the both of you ready?" she asked.
"As well as we can be," Eragon replied, taking a step next to her and following her gaze. "You?"
"I do not think anyone can truly be prepared for war," Arya said, "But yes, we are ready to fight."
"Hmm." Eragon hummed.
Fírnen had finally joined them, settling in beside Arya. His mismatch armor was still frightening to behold, and he saw the young dragon flexing his claws into the scorched dirt. Fírnen was eager, it seemed to Eragon, barely able to still himself before his first battle.
No more words passed between them as they waited besides each other, and it was only the presence of two minds approaching from the no man's land that roused the lot of them. From the feel of their minds, Eragon could already tell it was Angela and Solembum, the duo making their way steadily through the night.
Angela and Solembum veered off from their path, making directly for their location. It took only minutes for the witch and werecat to emerge from the darkness, the torch light casting soft shadows behind them. Angela wore a full-length cloak, as black as the night behind her, panting softly from her trek among the battlements.
"A welcome committee! How thoughtful of you," Angela proclaimed, flashing a bright smile at Eragon and Arya.
Glenwing stepped up behind the witch silently, and Eragon snorted when the elf yelled out, "A witch!"
The small woman jumped high in the air and turned, drawing a strange diamond sword. Solembum hissed loudly, the werecat's fur standing straight on its back.
"Don't do that!" Angela yelled out, waving her sword in front of Glenwing's face. The elf smiled brightly, and Eragon had to hold in his laughter as Angela berated the elf. "If you know what is good for you, elf, you will not test my mettle against your own."
Glenwing opened his mouth to respond, and Eragon sensed the innuendo ready on his lips.
"Angela," Eragon interrupted, and he even heard Arya sigh with relief. "It's a strange thing, finding you out here so late."
Glenwing glared at him over Angela's shoulder, and Eragon motioned with his head for the elf to move away from the witch. Glenwing sighed, but complied with his silent command, stepping around Angela and wading his way back towards Eragon.
Angela turned as he moved, her eyes still tracking the elf even as she sheathed her blade. "Is it? Have you indeed found me? Well, I didn't know that I was lost, so thank you."
Eragon chuckled, "Your welcome."
Angela glared at him, and it was Arya who finally voiced the question they all held. "Wise one, what were you doing so far from the Varden?"
"Do you not trust me?" Angela questioned.
"Not particularly," Eragon answered, while at the same time Arya said, "No."
"Good," Angela smiled. "You both will live longer. Well, in Eragon's case, he has lived longer than he already should have, but still, the point remains."
Eragon frowned, "What does that mean?"
Angela chuckled, her hand rising to cover her mouth. "Only that you are definitely Brom's son."
Eragon turned away from the witch, dismissing her. Arya continued to speak lowly to Angela while the witch dressed herself in armor, the green and black coloring hard to distinguish in the soft torch light. She drew out her hûthvír, the strange staff-sword made by the dwarves. She assembled the weapon, the handles attaching together seamlessly, with the blades threading into the ends to complete the weapon.
Orik joined them not long into the night, the dwarf grumbling when he spotted Angela's weapon. The dwarf stepped over to Glenwing, the two of them silent as Orik sharpened his curved ax. Eragon sat near them, letting his eyes closed as his mind spread out around them. He felt the minds of the Varden, letting their apprehension and fear flow past him. In the distance, he could feel the minds of the Empire soldiers as well, his mind brushing past unnoticed even to the shielded magicians.
Nasuada joined them before long, the tall form of Nar Garzhvog joining behind her. The Varden leader strode up to him, and Eragon stood to greet her. She remained silent for a moment, gazing out past their defenses towards the Empire.
"I would ask that you have Urgal's defend you," Nasuada said softly, "But I know you would refuse."
"I fight better on my own," Eragon muttered.
"Your father said as much." Nasuada explained. "He told me that the Urgal's would only slow you down. Is that true?"
"True enough, I suppose. There are few enough that could stand against Saphira and I," Eragon said. He nodded his head towards Nar Garzhvog, who's massive form stood shrouded in darkness behind Nasuada. "Have you and the Kull come to an accord?"
"We have." Nasuada said. She sighed after a moment, her voice low. "In the event of my death, I have chosen Brom to lead the Varden once more. If he cannot, then I fear the responsibility will fall to you."
Eragon sighed heavily, running his gloved hand through his hair. "I do not wish to lead, my lady, but if you fall in battle I will ensure that the Varden succeeds against Galbatorix."
"I know that you will," she responded. "I saw you fight in Farthen Dûr, and I knew then why the Riders were so revered. Not even a Shade can stand against you."
Eragon shook his head, his mind flashing with memories of his past fights against the creatures. "Shades are not to be trifled with, even for Riders. The two I have faced were powerful, and the only reason I was able to kill them was because of luck. Nothing more."
"Then I hope you will have such luck in the future against our enemies," Nasuada whispered. "We cannot do this without you or Arya, Rider."
Eragon nodded, and Nasuada excused herself after informing him that she would send word when the Varden would march.
Dawn was fast approaching, and it wasn't long before the wails of men across the empty battlefield began to make themselves heard to even those without enhanced hearing. He clenched his fists at the sounds of dying men, and he saw from his post that Angela had paled.
"This is your doing, witch?" Orik cried, "What glory is there in this?"
"Glory?" Angela retorted, her laugh forced. "You will have your glory, do not worry yourself, dwarf."
The cries grew louder, and Eragon longed to plug his ears to the sound. Even Arya and Glenwing grimaced at the sound. This was the price of war, and though it disgusted him, he could do nothing but sit and listen as men died to the poison crafted by the witch.
It is time, Shadeslayer.
Eragon stood, nudging Arya beside him before vaulting up to Saphira's saddle. The others roused themselves at Arya's word, moving as quick and as silent as they could. Light was spilling across the ground, the first signs of the sun peaking over the horizon. An opening had been cleared in the breastwork during the night, and the soldiers of the Varden began to pour into the gap.
Saphira was the first of their group to exit, Fírnen and Arya behind them. Ranks of soldiers marched past, rags stuffing the gaps in the armor to muffle the sounds of their approach. The Varden quickly assembled itself, and Saphira waded her way towards Nasuada and his father.
Brom offered him a stiff nod, returning his attention to the soldiers. Trianna was next to Nasuada, the witch being the go between for himself and any requests Nasuada had of him. Smoke had filled the ground during the night, the light of dawn during the vapor opaque. The Varden marched on silently, and they made it nearly three-quarters of the way across before the sentries of the Empire spotted them.
When the alarms began to ring out, Nasuada said, "Now Trianna! Tell Orrin to strike. To me, men of the Varden! Fight to win back your homes. Fight to guard your wives and children! Fight to overthrow Galbatorix! Attack and bathe your blades in the blood of our enemies! Charge!"
Nasuada spurred her horse forward, the soldiers behind her crying out as they shouted. Horses drummed off in the distance, and he could see from Saphira's back as Orrin and his calvary galloped out of the east. Kull accompanied the men, the large Urgal's able to run as fast as the horses. Orrin charged his men into the Empire's flank, pinning the army against the Jiet River.
It gave the Varden enough time to clear the remaining distance, and the sounds of battle began to ring out as the two armies collided. Saphira ran past the men of the Varden, sweeping into the enemy soldiers. Eragon drew his bow, firing his arrows into the Empire's own archers. He moved with Saphira as she swept her claws, and he could feel the drain of energy as his wards deflected both spells and arrows. While he was firing his bow, he would cast his mind out, searching for any of the hidden magicians among the Empire.
When he would find them Saphira's mind would join his own, allowing them to easily crush and kill the spellcasters. Afterwards, he would cast one of the death spells, watching as scores of men would fall to their deaths. The Varden soldiers would cheer, banging their weapons against their shields before moving on to clash with more soldiers.
He could see the Empire recovering from the Varden's assault, their engines of war beginning to organize a counter offense. The number of weapons astounded him, ranging from trebuchets to ballistae's that would make quick word of the soldiers of the Varden. Before even a single weapon could fire, Eragon casted his mind out towards the soldiers manning the weapons. He batted the shields of their mind aside easily, taking complete control of their bodies. Using their limbs as though his own, he cut any and all ropes he could find on the engines, the weapons of war giving a great big clank as the arms of the weapons broke.
Eragon was able to control multiple men at a single time, and it was short work for him to disable the remaining engines. Returning to himself, Eragon leapt from Saphira's back as soldiers of the Empire began to surround them. Drawing Brisingr before he even landed, Eragon cut down any and all who presented themselves to him. Saphira roared mightily, her claws raking through the soldiers' armor as though it was paper.
Ready? Eragon asked Saphira.
Let's show them the power of a dragon and her Rider, Saphira growled.
Their minds melded together, the line between their selves blurring. It had been a long time since they combined their minds so fully, and when they struck he was unable to tell whether it was him or Saphira who guided their limbs. Brisingr descended, cutting a man straight in half, while Saphira's flames consumed a group of soldiers. Distantly, he could make out Fírnen's ravenous form, his green scales reflecting bright in the mornings light. Arya and Glenwing ran beside him, cutting down any who stepped into their path.
The dwarves had taken up residence between the two dragons, stopping any who tried to flank them. Orik bellowed out orders while he heaved his axe, and the dwarves under his command were eager in their response. Often, Eragon and Saphira would make it too far from the front line of the Varden, and they would have to wait for the others to advance to meet them. Three times this happened, but no matter how many they cut down, another soldier was there to replace them.
Darting under a pike, Eragon whipped Brisingr around, cutting through both the weapon and the man with ease. Ten more soldiers approached him, shields held high before them. With a smirk, Eragon bowled them over, smashing their line while Saphira mopped up his mess. A sudden darkening of the sky was his only warning, and Eragon dodged out of the way as a hail of arrows descended on them.
Many bounced off his wards, and the few that managed to get through were unable to penetrate his elven armor. He groaned at the impacts, knowing that at the very least he would be left with apple sized bruises all over his body. Luckily, none managed to draw blood, though he did have to quickly mutter a healing spell on Saphira's soft wings.
Hours passed as Eragon killed more of the Empire's soldiers, though no matter the number more still approached. He would heal any wound he sustained, drawing upon the jewel in Brisingr's hilt. The amount stored there was still vast, and Glaedr had offered his help, but Eragon wanted the older dragon to save his energy incase either Galbatorix or Murtagh showed themselves. The thought of Murtagh gave Eragon pause, but even as he stretched his mind out far he could not sense his half-brother.
Frowning, Eragon jumped over Saphira's tail as it mowed down a few soldiers who took notice of his sudden pause. Landing lightly, Eragon casted a glance towards Arya. Her expression was covered by her helm, but even then he could still make out the fierceness of her eyes. Brushing his mind lightly against hers, Eragon waited for her to acknowledge his presence.
Her mind opened to him after a moment, the shields of her mind still strong despite granting him entrance. Eragon?
Have you sensed Murtagh? Eragon asked.
He felt puzzlement in her mind as she spread her awareness around her. After a few seconds, Arya answered quickly. No, I do not. Does this worry you?
Yes. Eragon replied, before retreating from her mind. Sidestepping a soldier that rushed him, Eragon twisted his wrist, feeling Brisingr bite into the man. The blade slipped through the soldier's armor with ease, blood spraying in its wake. Even as he dived back into the fight, Eragon could not help the worry that grew inside him. That he could not sense either Murtagh or Galbatorix worried him greatly, for he could not see the so-called Black King not trying to even the fight with the Varden's Riders.
Where is he then? Eragon pondered. This had been the largest battle since the Fall, and even in his madness Galbatorix must have still known the threat that the Varden poised to his rule.
Hours passed gruelingly, each minute of battle feeling as though it was stretched to unfathomable lengths. The Varden and Empire would pull back occasionally, each army readying itself in order to clash mightily once again. Blood covered the elven armor he wore, and he could feel the strain of his muscles relaxing as he pulled more energy from his store. He would channel some into Saphira when they rested, helping to ease even her aches. Eragon even offered some to Glenwing, and the elf even managed a small smile when Eragon helped heal the elf's wounds.
A few of the dwarves had fallen, and he watched as Orik spat at the ground angrily. The dwarf was covered in blood and dirt, and he could see the exhaustion beginning to grow in Orik's face. If this continued on for too long, Eragon knew that even the men of the Varden would be unable to sustain the pace of battle.
Just as the sun began to approach its evening position in the sky, Eragon heard King Orrin shout, his words carrying themselves over to Eragon even as a trumpet sounded to the east. "The dwarves are here! The dwarves are here!"