The Gates of Uru'baen
A holocaust of fire raged in the sky as Eragon and Saphira responded to the challenge of Thorn and Murtagh. Must it end like this? Eragon questioned in his mind to Saphira.
There is no other choice, little one. The vows in the ancient language that he made to Galbatorix have finally taken their effect upon Murtagh. He is no longer a friend, but an enemy who was twisted against his will, said Saphira. We must destroy him and his dragon if he is to be truly free.
Sighing heavily, Eragon placed his Durgrumst Igneitum helm on his head, making sure not to squash his pointed ears beneath the cold metal bowl. Clanking around in her dragon armor, Saphira aligned herself with the ranks of the Varden to face the gates of Uru'baen, the capital of the Empire. In the few short weeks after the epic battle of Dras-Leona, more men and money than ever poured into the Varden, spurred on by its image of invincibility. Now, the rebels, with men, Urgals, Dwarves, and the twelve elven magicians, nearly matched the size of the Empire's forces that were about to confront them.
As expected, Galbatorix refused to just lie around and wait for his mortal soldiers to get slaughtered. Instead, Murtagh and his great ruby-red dragon, Thorn had flown out of the towering citadel in the middle of the city to confront, and possibly capture, Eragon and Saphira before the Varden could take the city.
Acknowledging the grim truth, Eragon weaved his mind together with Saphira's, then reached inside the pouch of his dragon saddle and held out the Eldunari of Glaedr, connecting minds with the deceased dragon's consciousness as well. Be careful Eragon, Galbatorix could take over Murtagh again and harm you, as he did with Oromis and me, Glaedr warned. Eragon heeded the advice and reached out with his mind, finding and connecting with Arya's mind and through her, the twelve elven spellcasters. Be ready for anything they throw at you, they said through the new mental link. Finally, Eragon reached inside his pocket and drew out Aren, the elves' ring of friendship that had been passed down by Brom to him. Inside the seemingly innocent sapphire swirled a great hectic maelstrom of magical energy that could be relied upon as a source of strength in combat. From the Belt of Beloth the Wise, which also contained gems filled with power, dangled Eragon's blue hued hand-and-half sword, whose pommel also contained an energy-filled sapphire. I'm ready to do whatever it takes to free them from Galbatorix's control, Eragon thought grimly.
That's the spirit, said Saphira, humming with excitement at the coming fight.
Eragon looked away, trying to banish away the tears in his eyes as he thought back to the time when Murtagh was just a friend, a traveling companion and nothing else. While he was ready to accept the truth that Murtagh could not be saved without being killed, a part of his mind still tried to find a way to avoid that. I could knock him out, hit him unconscious, he thought, and then dismissed the idea. His half-brother was too fast and strong to be caught with a simple trick like that. Reaching that conclusion, Eragon raised his sword in answer to Murtagh's yell of battle.