Surprise washed through the ranks of the Varden at Orrin's words, and Eragon climbed onto Saphira's back in order to see above the soldiers' heads. Saphira jumped, opening her wings slightly in order to hang in the air as Eragon turned his gaze east. Indeed, just as Orrin said, Eragon could see the host of dwarves approaching with Hrothgar at the front. The Dwarven King was clad in golden armor, his jeweled helm gleaming brightly in the evening sun. As Saphira slowly descended, Eragon even made out Volund, the ancient war hammer, gripped tightly in Hrothgar's grasp.
A shout rose in the air, Volund held high above the King's head. Eragon returned the gesture, and the dragons let out a roar as determination renewed inside of them. With the dwarven army's arrival, Eragon hoped that the tide would be able to turn in favor of the Varden.
Orik ran up to Saphira as she settled back on the ground, and he saw both Arya and Glenwing waiting for him to speak. "What did you see?" Orik cried out, "Is it Hrothgar?"
"Take heart, for King Hrothgar has arrived! Take up your arms and remind the Empire why they should fear us!" Eragon shouted, pointing his sword towards the Empire soldiers.
Orik's war cry was perhaps the loudest of all of them, the dwarf rushing towards the enemy with his small company following behind him. Arya shared a small smile with him as she darted past, relief evident in her face as she rejoined Fírnen in the battle.
Before Eragon could leap off Saphira's back, Eragon heard a warning ring out loudly from the west. "A ship! A ship approaches on the Jiet River!"
Damn. Eragon thought. Frustration flowed through him. Need to deal with this quickly, or it could spell disaster for the army if its reinforcements for the Empire.
Eragon casted his mind out to Trianna, telling the sorceress that he would deal with the ship and its men. The sorceress paused as she listened to Nasuada, before letting him know that both Brom and Nasuada agreed with him. Saphira leapt into the sky, her wings carrying her above the heads of both armies with one massive stroke. Arrows drained at the wards Eragon placed around her, but he quickly replenished them by drawing from Brisingr's massive reserve.
Saphira swept over towards the Jiet River, angling herself towards the ship. The three masts of the ship billowed in the wind, and the two banks of oars steadily rowed itself through the murky water. It was badly damaged, and Eragon was surprised that it was capable of floating. The sight of it drew Eragon up short. Why would vessel of the Empire be so badly damaged? Especially if it was reinforcements for their army. Eragon knew of no battles that took place outside of the one he currently was in, and he quickly casted his mind out towards the ship.
As Saphira approached the ship, Eragon could feel their fear. When they were close enough, he was surprised to find that nearly all of them were adorned in clothing not suited for battle, though many of them gripped makeshift weapons tightly as someone bellowed out orders. Communicating his intention to Saphira, Eragon unstrapped his legs from the saddle and crouched on her back. The panic of their minds swelled as Saphira grew closer, and Eragon gripped Brisingr tightly in his hand, though he kept it hanging low at his side. Saphira pulled up sharply, twisting her body to align with the side of the ship, and Eragon leapt onto the deck. He rolled to absorb the impact, feeling both his wards and the metal of his armor cushioning his flesh.
The villagers, for that was what Eragon assumed they were, yelled in surprise. A few brave men stepped forward, and Eragon silently praised the courage they exuded. He could see women and children moving quickly away from him as the crew of the ship surrounded him. Holding Brisingr low at his side, Eragon swept his gaze over them, searching for the one they called leader.
The flickering of eyes towards a brown-haired man gave it away to Eragon, and he turned to face the man. The man standing before him was burly, strong muscles defining his features as the man gripped a plain hammer in his hand. He was barely old enough to be considered a man, though the way the others looked towards him made Eragon think that he must have been a fine leader.
"Who are you?" the man growled; apprehension clear in his face.
Eragon ignored him, letting his mind sweep through those around him. Many did not notice his presence, unused to such magic. The man before him flinched however, though he did not throw up shields to ward off Eragon's search.
The name of a village popped into one of the villagers' minds, and Eragon seized it at quickly. Carvahall. He did not press further, only listening to their minds for any ill intent towards him or the Varden.
Relaxing slightly when he found none, Eragon finally addressed the man before him. "I am Eragon Shadeslayer, Rider of the Dragon Saphira, and sworn defender of the Varden. Why are you here? Speak quickly, villagers of Carvahall, for there is a battle I must return to."
"We've come seeking help from the Varden," the man said, and with a hand gestured for the others to relax. He seemed surprised that Eragon knew where they were from, though he wisely did not comment. The villagers followed his orders, though many of them had already calmed when he stated he was with the Varden.
Another person stepped forward, and Eragon felt a brief flicker of surprise wash over his face as Jeod moved to stand next to the leader, offering a small nod to Eragon. What was Jeod doing with them? Eragon wondered, before casting it aside. He needed to return to the battle, now that he knew they meant no harm to the Varden.
"I'm afraid any aid the Varden could offer will have to wait," Eragon said, gesturing towards the ongoing battle on the shore. Saphira swept across the Empire armies, her flames destroying any who dared stand against her. Even at this distance Eragon could feel the strain of magic as her wards protected her, and he let some more magic flow from Brisingr's pommel. "Now that I know you are not with the Empire, I must return to the battle. I would advise staying away from the fighting, but at the very least you cannot remain here."
His bond with Saphira told him that she was winging her way back towards him, and he could see the eyes of the villagers track her as she approached the ship once more. The man nodded, and Eragon caught the flash of a woman in the man's mind.
Eragon turned and mounted the rail of the deck swiftly, facing the villagers. He nodded his head towards the man, asking, "What is your name?"
"Roran."
Shock rolled though him as he gazed at the burly man. Eragon nodded his head at Roran, turning and leaping onto Saphira's back when she was close enough. He covered the distance quickly, grabbing hold of one her spines to steady himself. Saphira turned herself towards the battle as Eragon maneuvered himself back into the saddle, sharing with her his discovery.
The relative of yours Brom talked about lives, Saphira murmured.
Hmm.
Fate has dug another one of her claws into us.
They said nothing more, and Eragon watched as Saphira moved over the battle towards the Dwarven army. Casting his mind out, Eragon felt around for any near Nasuada who were not currently occupied heavily in the battle. Trianna answered his call, and he said to her, the ship is not our enemy. Send word to Nasuada and Brom that they are only villagers seeking shelter with the Varden. Ask if a herald can be sent to explain the situation to them.
The sorceress agreed, relaying his message to Nasuada and his father. Saphira landed next to the Dwarven army, and Eragon grinned as the dwarves bellowed out their greeting to them. Saphira responded in kind, her roar so loud that Eragon saw the soldiers of the Empire take a step back.
"Hail Eragon, Hail Saphira!" Hrothgar greeted, and Eragon dismounted quickly to join the King. Orik was already next to the King, and Eragon inclined his head at his friend.
"We are fortunate that you arrived when you did, Your Majesty," Eragon said. "The Varden desperately needed your reinforcements."
"Indeed." Hrothgar said, a twinkle in the old dwarf's eye. "Now, shall we test our steel against theirs, and see if their forge fires are as strong as ours?"
Eragon nodded, grinning at the enthusiasm the dwarf displayed. "We shall."
Raising Volund high in the air, Hrothgar shouted in dwarvish, "For family and clan!"
The dwarves responded in kind, bellowing, "By Hrothgar's hammer! By Hrothgar's hammer!"
And so Eragon was swept up once more in the tide of battle, the crimson ranks of the Empire racing to meet him. Time once more became inconsistent, each moment feeling as if it was over before it began and lasting an eternity. Brisingr's blade sung as it dug into any Eragon commanded, and he lost count of the number of spells he unleased onto the armies before him. He could feel himself falling into the rhythm and joy of battle, its very essence singing inside him. Many men died as he and Saphira carved their way with the dwarves into the flank of the Empire's army.
So great was the death that they herald, that men would abandon their posts and throw down their weapons in surrender. Hundreds more turned on their commanding officers and comrades, and Eragon could begin to feel the tide of battle begin to turn.
He was unsurprised when flaming javelins flew overhead, burying themselves deeply into the Empire's command tents. The arc of the weapons told him they came from the river, and Eragon figured that Roran, and the others had decided to join in the battle. He felt a flicker of fear inside him for his relative, but Eragon could not afford to distract himself. He buried his feelings, smothering them under the aches that the battle began to make apparent.
A horn sounded from the rear of the Empire, echoed again by others as they took up the sound. Great drums began to beat, and Eragon cursed as he raced to leap upon Saphira's back. Men, from both the Varden and the Empire, stilled as they tried to discern the drums source. Saphira readied herself when he finally climbed into the saddle, her great wings spreading wide as Eragon casting his gaze back towards the Empire.
A figure rose above the ground before them, and the flash of red that Eragon caught let him know who had finally arrived. The men of the Empire cheered, and he could feel the panic begin to grow in the Varden's ranks as Thorn made himself known. The sun caught on the dragon's scales, making Thorn's scales glow blood-red, even as it reflected off the white of the spikes along his spine.
On his back sat his half-brother, clad in polished steel armor and holding Zar'roc high in the air. His brother held up a hand, and Eragon cried out, "Hrothgar!" as a red mass of energy gathered in Murtagh's palm.
Before any of the dwarven spellcasters could react, the magic was released. In an instant Eragon felt dread build inside him, knowing that his half-brother had firmly placed himself opposite the Varden and the dwarven army. The magic reached Hrothgar, striking the Dwarven King in the breastplate. The dwarven spellcasters cried out in panic as the magic drained their bodies, and Eragon watched as they all dropped to the ground, dead. Hrothgar clutched at his heart, collapsing soon after, and Eragon heard the dwarves cry out as they watched their king fall.
Saphira roared out in anger, and Eragon called out to Orik, "Take command of your kin!" The dwarf was pale in his shock, but Eragon could see Orik rouse himself. He was unsurprised when Glenwing appeared next to the dwarf, placing a hand on Orik's shoulder. Knowing that Glenwing was there, Saphira leaped into the sky, her challenge clear to Thorn.
He caught sight of Fírnen and Arya beneath them as Saphira flew to meet the red dragon, and he could see Arya racing up to Fírnen's saddle. Eragon drew heavily from the store of Brisingr, letting the strength he had imbued in the stone wash over him and Saphira as it rejuvenated them. Casting his mind out to the saddle bag behind him, Eragon softly touched the Eldunarí stored in there.
Glaedr roused himself, having been able to feel all that had been transpiring. I will lend you my strength, my friends. Do not hesitate to draw upon it.
They thanked their old master, feeling his mind augment their own as they joined forces. Power flowed through them, and Eragon was briefly astonished at the amount of power Glaedr held at his disposal. The purple dragon's Eldunarí always held a great store of magic, as the dragon had two centuries to store its collection of power, but Glaedr's strength showed the true measure of an old dragon.
Thorn bellowed out a roar, and Saphira responded in kind. For a moment Eragon felt sadness flow through him, but he did not let it consume him as they winged their way towards Murtagh and Thorn. Murtagh's and Thorn's minds crashed into theirs, and he could feel the Eldunarí Murtagh held, their torrent of minds attempting to tear at them.
The multitude of minds blasted a force of mental magic at them, but with Glaedr's help they were able to cast off the blow. They returned their own strike, and Eragon felt a brief sense of achievement when he saw both Murtagh and Thorn flinch. By some unspoken agreement they abated their battle of minds, knowing that they would not gain purchase over the other. Murtagh had always been the stronger of the two in the minds, but it seemed his brother did not wish for their fight to be only of the mental kind.
Saphira and Thorn clashed in the air, both dragon's twisting so that their massive bodies glanced off the other. Eragon felt pain radiate up his right shoulder briefly, but Saphira showed no signs of discomfort from the blow. Thorn swiped his claws against Saphira's armor, the tips of them slicing through her armor with ease. Saphira let out a yowl as Thorn's attack drew blood, and the sapphire dragon returned the attack with one of her own. Her forearm raked against Thorns exposed chest, the dragon bellowing out in his anger.
The two dragons grappled in the air, and Eragon exchanged blows with his brother when they could. Blue and red swords flashed, sparks flying as the two brightsteel swords glanced off the other. Neither of them had said a word to the other, but every so often Eragon would catch a glimpse of Murtagh's eyes. Determination and pain were all Eragon could see, and he for a moment he wondered at what tortures his brother had endured since their last fight. Just as before, neither dragon could gain an advantage over the other, both too evenly matched in their fight. Though Saphira was the better flyer, Thorn's powerful frame more than made up for it when they clashed.
Saphira pulled back from Thorn, unleashing a massive flame at the dragon. Murtagh held up a hand to block the fire, and the moment Saphira ended her torrent Murtagh shouted a spell. The same light appeared in his hands, disappearing in an instant as it clashed against Eragon's wards. He felt the strain of magic pull at him, draining his strength. Glaedr pumped more energy through their connection, and Eragon sighed in relief when Murtagh's spell exhausted itself.
Holding up a hand in return, Eragon drew upon both his strength and Glaedr's. Eragon muttered the long, complicated spell, watching as Murtagh frowned at the change in the air around him. He held the spell for longer than he had ever done, feeling Glaedr pouring more energy into his spell then he ever used before. With a shout, Eragon unleashed the lightening. A bright flash blinded him as the bolt materialized, the energy seeking his intended target. Thorn bellowed out as it struck, and when Eragon ended the magic, he could see Murtagh heavily panting with effort. Even Eragon felt drained from such an attack, though he did not see any evidence of injury on his brother or Thorn.
Their wards are powerful, Eragon muttered to the others.
Saphira growled, but before Glaedr could speak Eragon heard the bellow of another dragon approaching. Twisting his head, Eragon felt frustration mount as Fírnen closed in on them, Arya alighted on his back. Támerlein was held tight in Arya's grip as they neared the battle.
Thorn twisted at the challenge, and Eragon watched as the red dragon opened his mouth. Red flames poured out, the dragon's fire no doubt amplified by the Eldunarí, and Eragon saw the tongues of flame wash over Arya and Fírnen.
Saphira, who had been hovering when Eragon unleashed his spell, dived towards Thorn. Her advance caused Thorn to end his own attack, but the dragon was not quick enough to dodge Saphira's claws and teeth. Blood poured forth from Thorn's wounds as Saphira passed, though when Eragon glanced back he could see the flash of red magic as Murtagh healed them.
A flash of green alert him to Fírnen's arrival, and Saphira twisted to alight next to the younger dragon. He was glad to see no injuries on them, though he could see Arya panting slightly from the effort of diverting the flames. Arya's eyes met his, her expression as fierce as his own. He knew that Oromis had told Fírnen not to fight Thorn, but Eragon knew that Arya could never sit still if she was able to fight. Frustration grew, but Eragon casted it aside as Thorn approached.
Eragon was surprised when Thorn halted, twisting so that Murtagh could gaze at them. Saphira and Fírnen did the same, the three dragons hovering in the air above the battlefield. Eragon's eyes danced between the three dragons, both Thorn's and Saphira's size dwarfing Fírnen's. The dragon was still young, even with his accelerated growth from the dragon's magic. If Fírnen was to clash against Thorn alone, even without the aid of Eldunarí, Eragon knew the green dragon stood no chance.
Murtagh removed his helmet, his dark brown hair cascading around his features. His brother scowled at them, his eyes dancing between Arya and Eragon. "So, the rumors were true, and the last egg has hatched."
Eragon caught Arya's own scowl, though the elf said nothing in return.
"You are outnumbered now, Murtagh, and even with the power at your disposal you will never be able to best the both of us," Eragon said.
"Even if I could leave," Murtagh said, "I would not be able too. After our last battle, Galbatorix ensured that such word trickery would never work again. I have been commanded to capture Saphira, and I have to obey."
"And them?" Eragon said, casting a hand over to Arya.
"The elven ambassador and her dragon will accompany you when we return to Urû'baen," Murtagh muttered. "You cannot stand against me, Eragon, for I have more hearts than you. Galbatorix has taught me magic beyond your wildest imagination, spells that not even the elves would dare utter. They are cowards, hiding in their forests, waiting to be conquered."
He saw Arya bristle at the comment, though the elf remained silent as the two brothers conversed. "Galbatorix wants Saphira to hatch more eggs," Eragon surmised. "She is only one dragon, and would never be able to produce enough eggs to fully rebuild the dragon race. What does Galbatorix want?"
"To restore the order and unite Alagaësia under one banner." Murtagh waved a hand over the battle around them, even as the dragon's struggled to remain in one place in the air. Slowly, as if acknowledging they were unable to hover as such, the three dragons began circling one another. Fírnen followed behind Saphira as she remained opposite Thorn, and Eragon twisted in his saddle to peer at his brother.
"Is it so wrong to eliminate war? There would be no need for it under Galbatorix's rule. You should hear him describe it Eragon. The way he speaks of peace, of prosperity. Even for the elves and dwarves. All would be safe under Galbatorix's reign, and we would have no need to fight."
Anger and disgust rose inside Eragon, and he felt his emotions color his words. "Galbatorix is the reason why the order fell in the first place, Murtagh. He is the catalyst for this war, not us."
"The Order was fat and lazy, corrupt with their own power. You know this better than anyone, brother." Murtagh spat.
"Yes," Eragon muttered, agreeing with his brother. "They certainly had their faults, but not enough to justify this. All of this is because Galbatorix could not accept their answer for another dragon, and he never truly understood the responsibilities of being a Rider. He is a coward, unable to face the truth of what has happened. He murdered hundreds, enslaving an entire race to his bidding! I would never follow a self-proposed King who could commit such atrocities. Don't be swayed as Morzan was, Murtagh. You are not your father."
"Enough of this talk." Murtagh growled, placing his helm back on his head. "We both know I have no choice, and neither you nor that elf can release me from my vow. Though I do not wish it, I will kill anyone who stands in my way."
Saphira, anticipating the end of the conversation twisted, lunging across the distance fast then even Thorn or Fírnen could manage. Her bulk collided with Thorn's, and Eragon gripped the spike in front of him as the two dragons grappled in the air. From the corner of his eye, he could see Fírnen hesitate, so Eragon casted his mind out to him and his Rider.
Arya blocked his mind for a moment, only allowing him entrance when she recognized him. It was a risk extending his mind out with Murtagh so near, but Eragon counted on Glaedr to help defend him should his brother attack.
Glaedr was the one to speak first, his words passing through Eragon's mind to the others. The two of you must go join the Varden.
Arya and Fírnen protested, but the older dragon growled mightily, rattling Eragon inside his own mind. Do as I say! I do not have enough strength to aid both you and Saphira, youngling, and you could do more for this war fighting against the soldiers on the ground then up here.
Even with the speed of their minds, Eragon had to raise Brisingr up to deflect a blow from his brother as the two dragons battled. He could feel the exhaustion of both Glaedr and Saphira being to grow, and Eragon knew that Glaedr's words were the truth. The dragon was constantly pouring forth energy into Saphira, helping her to match Thorn's own augmented strength.
He could feel the reluctant agreement come from both Arya and Fírnen, and Eragon broke their connection when Saphira and Thorn separated. Fírnen dived, and Thorn roared out his anger as the red dragon attempted to stop them from leaving. Saphira snapped out her jaws, aiming for Thorn's exposed neck. The red dragon barely managed to dodge her attack, and Eragon was glad when Thorn centered his attention back on Saphira.
In order to discourage Murtagh from attack, Eragon yelled out, "Jierda!" The spell slammed into Murtagh and Thorn, and he could feel his brother's wards as they attempted to stop the magic. For a moment the two of them struggled against one another, and Eragon only let the magic go when he was sure Arya and Fírnen where both far enough away.
Even beneath his helm, Murtagh's scowl could be plainly seen. Thorn snapped his teeth at Saphira, and Eragon held on as she dived beneath the attack. Before Thorn could gain the advantage of height, Saphira heaved her wings, shooting up and flipping over to place herself behind Thorn. Thorn pivoted, moving away from her as he turned.
They began trading blows once more, Saphira's claws raking against Thorn's unprotected skin, even as Thorn's own screeched against her armor. Thorn would not allow Saphira to gain the upper hand as she had before in the last fight, which ended with Saphira forcing him to the ground. Instead, each time Saphira reached out to pin the dragon Thorn would move away, blasting fire in her direction to discourage her.
Eragon's mind raced as he thought of a way to end this fight. Saphira was tiring quickly, even bolstered by Glaedr's strength, and he did not know how much energy Murtagh still held. Murtagh was sworn in the ancient language to fight, compelled by his True Name to obey the Black King, so Eragon knew he could not simply end the fight without one of them submitting.
Even Glaedr held no answer, though the dragon was quite occupied with aiding Saphira. He could feel Glaedr moving Saphira's body before she knew she needed to, his own experience with battle lending itself to her. Again, and again the two dragons clashed, though he was heartened at seeing Thorn beginning to pant with the effort. Even Murtagh began to slouch slightly in his saddle, and Eragon knew at once how he could end this fight. He needed Murtagh to expend all the energy of the Eldunarí, forcing his brother to use his own instead.
Eragon glanced down at Brisingr's pommel, feeling reluctant to use the remaining store of power there. He had been slowly replacing the energy expended from the last time he used it, but it was still not as full as it used to be. Nearly two hundred years' worth of energy had been stored in the stone, and when he had cast the spell to hide his and Saphira's presence last time it had drained nearly a third of its power. The Hidden Presence spell he used, as it was called in the book, he learned it from, consumed a massive amount of energy, and was only intended to be used sparingly.
When Thorn and Saphira separated once more, Eragon spoke quickly into both Glaedr's and Saphira's mind. I have an idea.
Saphira snorted, even as she panted heavily. So long as it doesn't kill us, do it.
Glaedr remained quiet, waiting for Eragon to explain.
Glaedr-elda, Eragon asked, can you control my body for the time being? I need to concentrate for this to work, and I won't be able to if I need to fend off Murtagh's attacks.
He could, came Oromis's voice suddenly, surprising both Eragon and Saphira, but I think I might be able help.
Oromis-elda, Eragon said, relief bubbling up inside him. Your aid would be most appreciated.
Oromis's mind stretched from Glaedr's Eldunarí, as though the Rider was reaching through Glaedr's own essence to join with Eragon's. The older elf settled into his body, and Eragon's arm moved Brisingr around gingerly as the elf adjusted himself. I will give you the time you need, but I do not know how long Glaedr and myself can maintain this.
Eragon knew it was dangerous to construct a spell in his head, especially one such as this, so he drew himself down into his own mind. He casted off all outside stimulus, leaving Oromis to control his body unimpeded. As Eragon began to construct the spell, drawing on Brisingr's pommel, he could feel flashes of the clash of blades as Oromis wielded Brisingr against Murtagh, and he fought to keep them from interrupting him.
It took nearly five minutes of continuous thought, his stream of consciousness exact and consistent with his memory of the spell he wished to cast. He barely had time to warn Saphira and the others when his spell was finished, for the moment he resurfaced in his own mind the spell had already been unleashed. At once he felt the drain of magic, and he marveled at how quickly the spell ate at the remaining energy inside Brisingr
The air thundered around them, and Eragon nearly gasped in awe of what he wrought. Saphira barely managed to avoid the spells effects, and Eragon watched as Thorn was forced hundreds of feet down towards the earth below. Before the dragon could crash into the earth, Eragon watched as Thorn briefly hovered above the ground. Whatever spell Murtagh used must have exhausted him greatly, for it ended just as quickly as it began. Thorn fell the remaining feet to the ground, and the dragon roared even as he was unable to move.
As Saphira neared the ground, steering clear of the spell, Eragon could see the devastation it had on the area surrounding the red dragon. The very ground looked as though it was being pressed into itself, and he could hear rocks being crushed under their own weight. The spell was centered on the red Rider, though its effects could be felt for nearly a hundred feet in either direction. Soldiers from the Empire, who had been far beneath them when they fought, were now lying flat against the ground, unable to move. Hundreds of them lay flattened, and he could hear the creaking of metal and the screams of men as the ground began to swallow their forms.
Eragon barely could move, but he managed to climb down from the saddle, standing next to Saphira even as he strained with effort.
A red flash of light appeared from Murtagh, who lied sprawled on Thorn's back as the spell crushed them against the ground. For a moment it seemed Thorn was able to move, as the dragon dragged one of his limbs beneath himself to push himself upwards, only for the dragon to crash back down into the earth. He could feel Murtagh fighting against the effects, but Eragon kept the spell up, feeling the rush of energy flow through him from Brisingr as he maintained it.
He could feel both Oromis's and Glaedr's amazement at the magic, even as his vision flashed from the effort. It was a pure battle of strength, as Eragon let the magic flow greatly from the pommel of his sword and Murtagh attempted to combat its effects. For a moment Eragon was worried his strength would drain completely as Murtagh fought against it, but the moment Murtagh's struggles ceased Eragon whispered the words to end the spell.
At once he fell to his knees, panting heavily. Though he had not used any of his own magic, the mere act of channeling so much energy had worn him. Aches appeared all over his body at once, and his entire body felt as though it was both on fire and emersed in cold. His vision danced with spots as Saphira nosed at him, her worry flowing through the bond. She was panting heavily, her tail and wings dragging against the ground.
Oromis and Glaedr channeled energy into him, even as the Elder Rider retreated from his mind. I cannot maintain this any longer, Eragon, but this spell is unlike any I have ever seen. I will keep an eye on the events through Glaedr. Please, be careful.
Eragon nodded, even though he knew Oromis could not see it. The moment Oromis fully left Eragon shivered, flexing his hands. Though Oromis had relinquished control back of his own body back to him the moment he unleashed the spell, Eragon still felt as if someone else was still in his body.
Thorn struggled to right himself, a fierce growl leaving his lips as he glared at Eragon. Murtagh climbed down from the saddle, only to collapse against the ground briefly. His brother drew himself up to his feet, and Eragon could see the open exhaustion on Murtagh's features. The red Rider picked up Zar'roc, the sword drooping in his hands even as Murtagh advanced on Eragon.
Eragon thumbed the pommel of Brisingr as he held his sword up, feeling how drained the stone was. The spell he used had nearly consumed all the remaining energy, and only a trickle of power glimmered in the stones heart.
Murtagh bellowed out in rage, closing the distance between them quickly. Eragon blocked the blow, feeling his arms shake with the effort. Murtagh's own sword wavered in the air when he drew it back again to strike, and Eragon dodged out of the way of the blow. Drawing more upon Glaedr's strength, Eragon lunged out towards his brother. The two dueled, though he noticed Murtagh's blows weakening against him. His plan must have worked, for Murtagh did not replenish himself from the stores of energy contained within the Eldunarí.
As the two continued to fight, Eragon felt in the back of his mind the energy from Glaedr begin to slow, so Eragon stopped the flow between them. Relying on his own strength, Eragon stabbed at Murtagh, who barely managed to parry the blow. Eragon rained down strikes on his half-brother, forcing Murtagh to step back to fend off the attacks. Eragon's strength was waning, though he forced himself to continue despite how his body groaned out its agony at him.
Eventually Eragon managed to twist around Murtagh, and with a flick of his wrist he struck Murtagh's helm with the flat of his blade. His brother's helm rung and Murtagh collapsed. He barely managed to avoid the flash of claws as Thorn bellowed at him, and Saphira swiped at the dragon, who danced back to avoid her attack. Eragon retreated as the red dragon stood above Murtagh, his lips curled as he growled at the two of them.
Saphira returned the threating sound, though neither of them tried to swipe at each other again. Barely able to hold himself up, Eragon leaned heavily against Saphira's flank. Murtagh did not stir from the ground, though he could hear his brother's short breaths even from where he stood. Speaking out loud, Eragon addressed Thorn. "Go. Care for your Rider."
Thorn roared out at them, scooping up Murtagh in his front paws and spreading his wings. The red dragon lifted into the air, and Eragon finally collapsed onto the ground as Thorn winged his way away from the battlefield.
Eragon reached up a tired hand, removing his helmet as he took in the smoke covered sky. The sounds of battle were dying down, though occasionally he could make out the call of orders around them. Saphira licked his cheek, humming at him as she stood guard over his form.
That was most impressive, little-one.
Eragon laughed, unable to help himself. His body trembled as he laid on the ground, though he was glad that he was able to still retain his grip on Brisingr.
It was most certainly a battle to remember, Glaedr stated. The dragon's voice was tinted heavily with exhaustion.
Thank you for your aid, Glaedr-elda. We could have never beaten them otherwise. Eragon said. Saphira murmured her agreement, even as she peered around them at the remains of the battle.
The dragon hummed, you are quite welcome, Eragon, Saphira. The two of you are indeed a force to be reckoned with. You did well against an opponent who held more power than yourself, and I admire your plan to drain Murtagh's store of energy. Later, you must explain that spell to me. Oromis did not catch the words you used, and we would like to know where you learned such a thing.
Of course. Eragon answered.
Glaedr retreated from them, and Eragon let out a sigh as Saphira nudged at him again. Come, little-one, we cannot afford to sit here any longer. The battle has come to an end, and we are needed elsewhere.
Eragon, with a great effort, heaved himself to his feet. They began to weary walk back towards the remains of the battle, and every so often Eragon would stop to heal any soldier he happened upon. Though his strength was low, Eragon was able to at the very least ease their suffering. He healed both soldiers of the Varden and Empire, uncaring at how Galbatorix's men glared at him in hate.
They picked their way slowly back towards the Varden. Eventually they breached through a cloud of smoke, and Eragon paused as he took in Orik and some ten other dwarves. They surrounded Hrothgar's form, who laid upon four shields to keep his body off the ground. The dwarves stroked their beards and lamented at his death, their fists beating against their chest fiercely.
Eragon bowed his head, and muttered, "Stydja unin mor'ranr, Hrothgar Könungr."
Glenwing was standing behind Orik, his face shrouded in grief. He was the first to notice Eragon, raising a hand in greeting. The elf did not approach, though he nudged Orik lightly. The dwarf glared at him, before turning to Eragon.
Surprise flickered across Orik's face, and the dwarf approached him quickly, his face streaked with tears and blood. "Did you kill the red Rider?" Orik asked without preamble, working his fingers through his beard.
"No," Eragon said quietly. "I managed to beat him in battle, but Thorn escaped with him before I could get close enough." It was the truth, in a roundabout way. He had let Thorn go, but that was not something he would willingly tell Orik.
"Barzûln!" Orik stomped.
The dwarf made to speak again but was stopped when Glenwing placed a hand on his shoulder. The two shared a look, and Orik eventually sighed and nodded at the elf. "Losing Hrothgar, it is like losing my parents all over again. When they died of the pox, Hrothgar took me in and gave me my life again." The dwarf pinched the bridge of nose, as though to stop the tears from flowing once more.
"I understand." Eragon said.
"I know that you do," Orik muttered. "I know... We must prepare Hrothgar to return to Farthen Dûr, so that he can be entombed with the rest of his predecessors. Dûrgrimst Ingeitum must choose a new grimstborith, and then the thirteen clans must choose the next king. What this will lead to, I know not, but it will embolden some clans and turn others against our cause…"
Eragon clasped Orik's arm in his own. "Do not worry about that right now. You know that you need only ask, and Saphir and I will be more than willing to help in any way we can. If you wish, when you are done with your duty, we can share a cask of mead and toast Hrothgar's memory."
Orik nodded his head, turning to face Hrothgar's form once more. "I would like that."
Orik moved back towards the other dwarves, his voice joining in their cries once more. Glenwing arched an eyebrow at him, and Eragon inclined his head back towards Orik. The elf understood at once, taking up residence behind Orik once more.
Saphira and Eragon moved away from the dwarves, and Eragon frowned at the pain in his chest. He was saddened over Hrothgar's death, as the dwarf had always been somewhat kind to Eragon in the past. He was worried as well, knowing how complicated dwarven politics could be. If dwarves elected a king who did not wish to aid the Varden, Eragon did not know how they would be able to continue in the war against Galbatorix.
Come, little-one, we should meet up with Nasuada and the others.
Eragon agreed, walking towards the Varden's encampment. Soldiers greeting them with fists over their hearts, though Eragon could see how tired and worn the soldiers were from battle. Eragon saluted them in return as he walked towards Nasuada's command tent, spotting Fírnen's massive form outside. Ignoring the whispering words of praise around him, Eragon approached the tent, watching as Saphira peeled off to inspect Fírnen.
The dragon raised his head in greeting, and Saphira closed off her mind to him as the two conversed wordlessly. Running a hand across Saphira's flank, Eragon nodded at the guards outside the tent, waiting for them to grant him entrance.
With a salute they did, pulling back the flap to reveal the inside of the tent. Nasuada was situated on the edge of the table while a maid helped her remove her armor, the Leader of the Varden deep in a heated conversation with both Arya and Brom.
His father was the first to note his presence, and Brom smiled at Eragon. Eragon nodded at his father, relief filling him at seeing all of them alive and well. Nasuada paused, turning towards him, and exclaimed, "Eragon!"
She ran up to him, surprising Eragon when she threw her arms around him in a hug. She released him and stepped back, making way for Brom to approach. His father held out an arm, and Eragon grasped it tightly. "I am glad that you are alright."
"Takes more than Murtagh to kill me," Eragon said to his father, though his eyes lingered on Arya. She remained behind, though her eyes were roaming over his features as though searching for any injury. Eragon finally noticed the other person in the room, surprised when he discovered Roran standing near where Brom was before.
"Ah," Brom said. "I was told you already met, but I think proper introductions are in order. This is Roran Stronghammer of Carvahall, son of Garrow." His father gestured at Eragon, motioning for Roran to approach. "This is Eragon Shadeslayer, Selena's and my own son."
Roran appeared shocked for a moment, and Eragon wondered if he knew of Selena. She had lived long before Roran was born, but if Roran knew Brom Eragon supposed he could have told stories of her life. "It is an honor to meet you, Dragon Rider."
Eragon nodded. "If only under better circumstances."
Nasuada spoke up, finally removing the remainder of her armor. "Roran managed to kill both the Twins, Eragon. He has told quite the tale in reaching the Varden, and we are in debt for his aid."
"I would like to hear the story," Eragon said, surprised that this normal human had managed to kill such powerful magicians. "But perhaps at a later time."
Roran nodded his head, glancing at Brom briefly. "Very well. I would ask a boon of you Rider as well."
"Oh?" Eragon murmured. "If it is within my power, I will grant it. But I am weary from battle."
Roran nodded his head, though he looked reluctant to have his needs unvoiced. Brom clasped his hand on the young man's shoulder, murmuring lightly in Roran's ear. Eragon ignored the words, turning towards Nasuada and Arya.
"How faired the rest of the battle? I did not manage to catch the rest of it," Eragon said.
"With the arrival of Hrothgar and the dwarves," Nasuada said, her face displaying grief for a moment, "We were able to turn the tide. Tell me, please, the outcome of your battle with Murtagh. Not even Arya could sense you after she left your side."
"Forgive me," Eragon said, "Saphira and I thought it best to shield our minds from others besides ourselves. We managed to defeat Murtagh and Thorn, though only barely."
"He still lives?" Arya questioned.
Nodding at her, Eragon was unsurprised that both Brom and Roran were listening intently as he began his tale. He told them of how he had fought against Murtagh, though he left out the Eldunarí. Both Brom and Arya knew of them, but neither said anything at his slightly edited story. When he told them of the spell, he had unleased, Arya's eyes widened in bewilderment.
"That was you?" She whispered. Even Brom seemed impressed, and it drew a small chuckle from Eragon. That he managed to surprise even his father with his knowledge of spells heartened him.
"Aye." Eragon responded.
"We were deep in battle," Nasuada said carefully, "When suddenly we witnessed nearly a full battlement of soldiers pressed into the ground as though a giant stood on top of them. Their armor shredded under the weight, and Arya told me that it was a type of magic she had never seen before."
"What was it?" Arya asked, her green eyes peering into Eragon's.
He swallowed under her gaze, "A spell I learned from Tenga," Eragon said, watching as Arya's eyes showed understanding. Tenga was the man Eragon learned the Hidden Presence spell from, and it was another of the spells in the strange man's compendiums. "It alters the gravity under the target, making anyone caught in its grasp nearly triple in weight."
Brom smacked the back of his head, and Eragon let out a sound of protest as he rubbed the smarted skin. "What was that for?" he exclaimed.
His father sighed heavily. "That was for messing with forces you don't understand. That type of magic is extremely dangerous, and you're lucky it didn't out right kill you!"
Eragon narrowed his eyes at his father. "I know what I was doing. It was the only way."
Brom raised a hand again, though he calmed when Nasuada held up her own. "Whatever has happened, we are glad that you returned to us. I know that you are tired, so I ask that you go and rest, Eragon. There is still much to do, but you have already done much for us today."
Nodding, Eragon bid them farewell, pausing when Brom and Roran followed him out. The young man was staring in amazement at Saphira and Fírnen, the latter finally having settled down outside the tent during his brief meeting. Brom grasped Roran's shoulders, saying, "Come, Roran. I will show you where the others are. You will have time enough to speak with Eragon."
Glad of his father, Eragon stepped up to Saphira and stroked her snout lightly. You were amazing today, Eragon said to her.
She hummed under her breath, her body vibrating with the force. You weren't so bad yourself, little-one.
Eragon chuckled, turning to gaze at Fírnen. The dragon was watching them, though he averted his eyes when Eragon's met his. "I am glad to see you well, Fírnen."
The dragon's mind touched his own, saying, You as well, Eragon-elda.
There was a note of shame in the dragon's voice, and Eragon at once figured what was bothering the dragon. "Do not be upset with your Ebrithil, Fírnen-Finiarel. One day, you will be able to stand against one such as Thorn. Sometimes we are unable to help in the ways we wish, so we must do what we can while we are able."
I will head your council, Eragon-elda.
The dragon said no more, retreating into his solitude. For a moment Eragon wondered if Arya felt the same as Fírnen, though she had not said so earlier. Even if she died, Eragon pondered, she would not have said anything in front of the others.
Nudging Saphira slightly, Eragon said, are you going to stay here? I need to sleep.
Saphira yawned, echoing his exhaustion, standing up in answer. Eragon followed behind her as she waded her way through the tents, and for once the only thing on Eragon's mind was collapsing face first into his cot, even as the events of the day weighed down on him.
Bidding Saphira goodnight, Eragon stepped into his tent and began to strip off his armor. Grimacing at the blood that adorned the Elvish armor, Eragon made a note to clean the grime off it later. He was glad when he found a bowl already placed on the small table in his tent, clean towels placed next to it for his use.
Dipping the towel in the water, Eragon began the slow process of cleaning himself. He wiped down the blood that coated him, using his nails to scrape the dirt off his skin. He could have used magic to clean himself, but he was exhausted and feared the magic would force him into unconsciousness.
He removed his sweat stained tunic and trousers as well, cleaning himself before finding a somewhat clean pair to pull on. It was as he was pulling on his tunic did a knock alert him to the presence of someone else, their hand striking against one of the poles that held up his tent.
Blinking, Eragon lowered the tunic in his hands, calling out, "Yes?"
Arya's head poked into his tent, her eyes scanning around for him briefly before alighting on him. For a moment Eragon felt heat spread across his chest, the situation reminding him of one back in Farthen Dûr. She had stumbled upon him changing once before, though this time she did not cast her gaze away from him. Arya was no longer adorned in her armor, instead looking as though she had finished bathing as well.
She stepped lightly into the tent, moving to stand before him. He froze, his brown eyes peering deeply into her own green eyes. Arya reached out and laid a tender hand on his cheek, her gaze sweeping across his face quickly. Her other hand reached out and grasped his tunic, pulling it from his grip and throwing it on his bed.
Eragon made to protest, but was stopped when Arya embraced him, the warmth of her clear against his bare chest. Eragon reached up and returned the hug, pulling her tightly against him. He lost count of the minutes in which they held each other, and Eragon was reluctant to pull back from the embrace.
Arya was the first to step back, though her hands did not leave him completely. Instead, they locked onto his arms, her eyes meeting his once more. "You had me worried after I could no longer sense you."
Eragon smiled, his hands trailing along her own. She shivered at his touch, and Eragon felt small bumps appear on her skin as his fingers trailed over them. "I am alright. Merely tired."
Arya nodded her head, though she did not move away from him still.
Captivated by her green eyes, Eragon slowly asked, "How faired the battle for you and Fírnen?"
"Well, enough, I suppose," Arya answered. Her eyes moved away from his, fixing on one of the walls of his tent. "Fírnen was upset that Glaedr told us to stay away, but I understand why he had us do so."
"Glaedr was exhausted by the end of our battle," Eragon said, keeping his voice low. He had wards placed around his tent, but he was always reluctant to say the name of his old masters. "I could not imagine him trying to help both Saphira and Fírnen."
Arya nodded her head. Her voice dropped as well, "We are fortunate that we had their assistance."
"Aye," Eragon murmured. He swayed lightly on his feet, feeling the day draining the last of his energy. He wanted to continue to bask in Arya's presence, but he feared he would fall asleep standing up as it was.
Arya noticed his tiredness, and stated, "We both need our rest. You most of all."
Eragon nodded. Arya started to slip away from him, and Eragon felt a sudden boldness take hold of him. He grasped wrist lightly, pulling her attention back to him. Curious green eyes peered at him as he whispered, "Stay?"
Arya froze.
Eragon swallowed heavily, letting her wrist go. Eragon half expected her to deny his request and leave, though he was immensely surprised when she sharpened her gaze instead at him, a slight heat making itself apparent on her cheeks. "For what purpose?"
Blinking, Eragon stated, "To sleep?" He did not know it would anger her as such, though his words merely caused the flush to deepen.
"Only to sleep?" Arya questioned; her words were forceful, and her eyes hadn't lost any of their sharpness, though her brows had furrowed at him.
"What else would we-." Eragon broke off at once, coughing as he realized how he request could have sounded. They spoke in the ancient language, as they always did, so he knew the truth would be apparent to Arya when he said, "Yes, only to sleep."
"Oh," Arya said. The flush had left her face, and the sharpness of her eyes yielded instead to an emotion Eragon couldn't place.
"I'm sorry," Eragon said quickly, "I didn't mean to anger you, or make it sound like I wanted to-. If something like that was to happen, I think it would be after we discussed it. If you do not wish to stay, you only have to say so."
Arya shook her head slowly, and responded quietly, "You did not anger me."
Confused, Eragon let it go when a yawn made itself apparent. Holding a hand up to cover his mouth, he was surprised when Arya grabbed his other wrist and pulled him towards the cot. She lightly pushed him down, and Eragon followed her silent request.
He laid down on the cot, letting out a sigh as he settled down. A hand shoved at his shoulder, and Eragon glanced over at Arya to find her motioning at him to move over. Blinking, Eragon did as she bid, watching as she sat down on the cot before twisting to lay down beside him. There was barely enough room for the two of them, and Eragon felt his heart lurch in his chest when Arya hesitantly place her head on his shoulder.
She curled herself around him, the front of her body pressing against his side. Her breath tickled the side of his face, and all he could smell was the scent of freshly crushed pine needles. They were both tense for some minutes, but eventually the tiredness he felt won over any excitement he might have felt with Arya so close to him. All he could recall before he fell deep into sleep was the feeling of Arya relaxing, one of her fingers running lightly down his still bare chest.