Eragon swung Brisingr around in a wide arc, cutting at the soldier approaching on his right. The man screamed and fell, but Eragon was already swinging again, this time at the spearmen that charged towards him, attempting to break the Varden's line. He heard Saphira's roar behind him as she too clashed with Galbatorix's army. They had been fighting for hours, Eragon was unsure exactly how long: the battle had begun to blur together.

He thought over the long series of events that had led up to this battle. After the triumph at Feinster the Varden had joined the elves at Gil'ead, and had claimed victory there as well. The two defeats, especially Gil'ead, had severely weakened Galbatorix's army, which had regrouped along the Toark river a few leagues above Leona lake. There, with the height of the mountains to their advantage, they would have been able to put up a stronger fight than before, had they been given enough time. But the Varden had closed in quickly, and, unprepared to fight again so soon, the Empire had again lost the battle. Their forces now thinned beyond immediate reconciliation, the Empire had retreated east to Urû'Baen, where it was rumored Galbatorix himself had come out to join them. The Varden had followed, and thus had started the present battle.

Strange, he thought, that the tide of a war could change so quickly. The Varden, only a short while ago in hiding from Galbatorix, now knocks on the door of Urû'baen and threatens to defeat his army. I wish Oromis and Glaedr could have seen this. They devoted their lives to the defeat of Galbatorix, only to fall to him. They gave their lives for the cause, and it has made such a difference. I wonder, will it be so for us? Will Saphira and I die in battle, perhaps even today? I've always thought that we would destroy the Empire and live on to see the results of our fighting, but is it for us to live on? Should the time of the riders come again? Or will we fall, the last of our kind, so that this horror of a monarchy could not repeat itself?

Angela's words rang in his ears as loud as the battle around him.

"Your fate will be to leave this land forever. Where you will end up I know not, but you will never again stand in Alagaesia. This is inescapable. It will come to pass even if you try to avoid it."

Will Saphira and I leave for the realms of death?

Then he shook his head.

Such morbid thoughts! I'm beginning to sound like Blagden, with endless, circling riddles and no answers!

His thoughts were interrupted as a familiar presence touched his mind. Quickly as he could, he let Arya through his barriers.

Eragon? She sounded worried.

Arya? Are you all right?

For the moment. I could use your help, though.

What's going on?

The Varden pulled back over here. I got caught in a circle of Empire soldiers, who are apparently enjoying my inability to leave. I'd appreciate some assistance.

I'll be right there.

Eragon reached out to Saphira's mind and quickly explained the situation.

It doesn't sound too bad. Stay here and hold the line, I'll be back soon.

Be careful, little one.

I will. Don't worry. I'll be back in a few minutes.

Closing his mind again, he began to work his way across the field, fighting as he went, to where he knew Arya was. Coming over a small rise he spotted her. She was about two hundred yards away, and surrounded by at least a dozen soldiers. Pressing into the battle again, he moved closer.

That's odd, he thought. Why so many? Only four or five would be enough, yet while their comrades struggle at the front lines, their commanders seem content to allow them all to waste their time surrounding an elf. Almost as if they had special orders…

But he didn't have time to think it through any further. He had reached the outside of the group and swung at the soldier on his right. The man blocked and raised his sword to attack, but Eragon was too quick and cut at his side. The man let out a yell, and, stumbling backwards into one of his companions, created a hole in the circle that was big enough for Eragon to slip through. In a second he slid in beside Arya, parrying a blow aimed at her head.

"It's good to see you!" Arya said, spinning around to deflect a spear. "I was beginning to wonder…"

"I got here as fast as I could. The fighting's pretty bad out there."

"How do you think it is in here?"

"Yeah, I noticed- Ow!"

Eragon reached up to his neck, and was surprised to feel what appeared to be a small dart. He pulled it out and examined it, wondering how it had gotten through his wards.

"Ow!"

Eragon glanced up to see Arya holding a similar dart, looking confused. It was only then that he realized the fighting had stopped. Looking around, he saw that the soldiers were standing back, weapons at their sides, looking smug. Somehow this didn't bother him.

Odd, he thought, that should bother me, shouldn't it? Oh well…

It was all too confusing. He felt a wave of nausea overtake him. He looked over to Arya, who was staring at him, looking troubled. He was about to ask her what was wrong, when she disappeared. There was a hard blow to his back, and then all he could see was sky. He must have fallen… Then her face appeared in his vision. Troubled had changed to something else. Scared?

"Eragon? Can you hear me?"

She sounded strange. Her voice echoed in his head. She looked strange, come to think of it. Every thing did. Had the sky always been that weird orange color?

He watched as Arya collapsed onto the ground beside him.

And then everything was black.