Angela extended her mind, observing from a safe mental distance, the numerous enchantments placed over the egg. They were, naturally, placed in layers, the earliest wards cast upon the object hidden underneath the varying newer spells. The wards, had, of course been placed to prevent marauders' success in thievery of the prized object, and the witch had expected as much, for the tyrant would stray to protect this object at all cost, the change of the tides, the tipping of the scales to his benefit, his key to extinguishing the Varden, and in doing so, emerging victorious from the war. With two riders on his side, his enemies would stand no chance. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Angela smiled to herself. Galbatorix, a mere youth in her eyes, had put up pitiful attempts - her presence in the room was testimony to that. She had no doubt his magic and power on an individual scale were far superior to her own, yet while this was true, his arrogance was his weakness. The king's guards were incompetent, inexperienced and showed it in every clumsy movement, as if advertising a desire to be attacked.
The witch had stood before the emerald egg for hours, probing the shield of enchantments that left the consciousness within the egg unidentifiable amidst the barriers, searching for a dent, a flaw, a vulnerable area of any sort. Often the clashing of swords could be heard from the opposite side of the doors, but the assaulting guards were quickly vanquished by a stray blade or spell of Angela's two companions. Those guards had courage, she'd give them that. While inept, they were loyal, striving to protect their masters prized possession, even as it was clear they were marching to their deaths - with the poised vigilance the two Varden members displayed guarding the witch and the egg, it was obvious enough.
After hours of silence from the witch, she abruptly began speaking steadily in the ancient language, a continuous stream that went on with out pause and that would have occupied many pages in written form. There was a certain oddity about her words, for they were not worded as a spell or demand, and not as a blessing or curse of any kind - but was composed of mainly nouns and explicitly descriptive terms. Still, the aura in the room shivered as the woman spoke with a power that went hardly unnoticed. After minutes of this, the invocation was finished with a last single word: domia. Though it would not have been realized by outside observers, the witch had been genuinely multitasking, living up to the term in all it's glory; while speaking, she had extend a thin, almost non-existent tendril of thought, and penetrated the egg's enchantments. The witch did not go directly through the wards, for the results would have been harmful for her cause, most likely killing her, or setting off an alarm to alert the king of her presence. She instead maneuvered through the enchantments - for they were not a solid barrier of impenetrableness, but were in reality, closer to the likeness of a net. And all nets had holes. Not to say this was easy. The netting, as was to be expected, was complex, a maze. A maze with traps.
She looked at the walls containing her. If she were to make one wrong turn it would be over. Angela was not concerned over this fact, for she had total confidence in her abilities. Raw and utter experience guided her through the maze, and she ran with no stumbles, perfectly and always knowing the path to take. This experience could only be achieved by shear age - as with it knowledge came. Having been in situations like this before - knowing the nature of which average spell casters placed their spells, and aware of specific variations of enchantments that were most likely and many of which, were, cast over this egg. While she was sure of herself, she did not run with overconfidence, and retained her caution and logic, as she had always done, and would have been dead long ago without.
She ran amidst the maze for what could have been years for all she knew, all the while her physical self speaking the words of the ancient language, never stumbling once. And with the final word, invoked with almost more tremendous power than the others, domia, with the final turn of the maze, the world was silent. Angela stood both physically and mentally before the egg, now laid bare of all enchantments. Extending her mind completely, not as a wisp of thought as before, she gently confronted the consciousness within, sending calming mental tones to the young yet simultaneously old mind inside. Opening rusty eyelids Angela had not been aware she had closed, she casually slipped the egg into a pack at her side, now being able to touch it without any enchantments being set off.
I have it, Angela said simply to Arya before exiting the egg's chamber to come abreast her two companions. "At the risk of stating the obvious," Angela began aloud, "Galbatorix will be here any minute, as he surely set off from Dras-Leona the moment his wards alerted him of intruders."
"You did disable the wards over the egg, did you not?" Eragon questioned in confusion.
Angela shook her head. "Of course, but the castle itself is most likely planted with wards that will notify Galbatorix of invaders," she explained.
Angela, Arya, and Eragon scurried through the halls of the tyrant's sanctuary, eluding guards when possible and felling them when not. The witch's Hûthvír was wielded skillfully, becoming a deadly torrent her enemies were quite reluctant to confront - and there was always Brisingr,(Ha! Angela still laughed at the the Rider's uncreative name), and the elegant elven blade of Arya. Eventually the trio beheld the window through which they had entered the castle.
Saphira! Eragon mentally called. It was a grueling process of waiting for the dragoness to come to their aid, for she had been required to remain safely outside Uru'baen. The three were aware that the king was on his way right now, but Saphira came as fast as she was able, and nothing more could be done.
Eragon spotted a shadow in the distance, which, because of the cast of night, he would not have noticed if it were not for the temporary disappearing of stars in a specific area of the sky as a Saphira flew to the rider's relief was short lived when the elven lady next to him said tersely,"That is not Saphira."
As the dragon came closer, the elven eye sight of Eragon and Arya was able to observe the silhouette of a rider upon the back of said dragon, and although they had never beheld Shruikan, they were aware that with his age he would have been a deal larger than this dragon. Thorn.
Saphira, where are you? Thorn and Murtagh-
Eragon was cut off as Angela said curtly, "Look," in time for Arya and Eragon to watch as Saphira drove into Thorn's side, stunting his progress towards the three. With a speed the red hatchling could not hope to achieve in his surprise and own clumsiness, Saphira steered to her left towards her rider and companions. As soon as the blue dragoness came within three feet of the window, Eragon inelegantly leapt upon Saphira's shoulders, followed by Arya, and finally Angela, whom with came, most importantly, the egg. Without warning, Saphira dove several dozen feet to avoid Thorn. Do not stay to fight Saphira. We must get to the Varden as soon as possible. Saphira was unable to comply as Thorn was upon her.
The sapphire dragoness' claws scrabbled for hold against Thorn's scaled sides. Thorn, who had always been a bit slower and clumsier in his overgrown body than the elegant dragon of the Varden, was even more so now as many of his movements were contributed to protecting his tail, which currently lacked the last three feet of it's length. Saphira knew well of his weakness and swiveled towards his posterior before he had a chance to react, biting into the remainder of his tail. Thorn yelped, and Saphira took advantage of his disorientation to sail full-out towards the Varden, cutting into the air at an unmatched speed.
Thorn took off after them as soon as he was able, but his flight was interrupted by shivers of pain emanating from his tail. However, Saphira's own flight slowed as she carried three upon her back, and her wings strained furiously to keep up her pace. The rider of the varden transferred energy of his own into his dragon, even so, Saphira was naught but two years and could not support to much weight. The dragoness flew on at a slower speed, Murtagh's dragon overtaking her. Knowing she could not outmatch him in speed, Saphira jerked her head in his direction and unleashed a crackling torrent of blue flames over the pair, which parted harmlessly around Thorn and his Rider, such was the power of wards. Thorn approached and the two dragons joined, groping for the upper claw. The riders of both dragons had no chance for entry of their own weapons, however, Murtagh was not stopped from throwing taunts and insults their way.
Both dragons accumulated minor wounds, scratches and bruises from their enemy, though none were threatening. That was, until red managed to, at least momentarily, conquer over blue as Thorn's teeth sunk the corded muscles above Saphira's shoulder, narrowly missing her wing. Saphira made a noise somewhere between a hiss and a roar, before clawing down her enemy's chest, marring his scales and penetrating his skin. It seemed one could not deal a wound without opening their own vulnerabilities and gaining one in turn. Thorn pivoted himself towards the stars, flapping into the sky. Saphira, who was having none of it, awkwardly rolled out of the path of his dive a moment before impact. The blue dragon raised her tail for a hit at Thorn, but the act was never completed as a force collided with her side and she was sent head over tail to the ground.
Saphira! Eragon cried amidst his dragoness' flailing. Saphira strenuously stabled her forearms and legs, before steadying her tail and painfully snapping her wings open, ceasing her downward hurtle. Barely feeling the pain of Saphira's several broken ribs nor shoulder in ribbons, dragon and rider, elf and which turned their heads in horrible anticipation to look at the thing neither of them had yet beheld, yet all of them knew. The black shape seemed to take up half of the sky, blotting out the stars. Then Shruikan roared. The halfling and elf had heard the roar of a dragon. Saphira, the only dragon other than Thorn either of them had met, roared prior to battles, encouraging roars that lifted the Varden's spirits and dared their enemies to come closer. This roar, seemed to drawl on forever, as even as it ceased, it rung in the listeners' ears, seeming to never end, ruling over all other sounds. Arya's faint whisper of dread, nor Eragon's gasp of horror were heard, only the intimidating roar of the black dragon, a roar that had body, it seemed, quite a terrifying one. And only one could be upon his back.
Even Saphira knew when she was outmatched, and turned toward the varden and flew flat out, desperately trying to escape her enemies. If it were not for the injuries she already possessed, she may have just made it, and even then, doubtful. As it were, there was no hope, and she fumbled to the ground blindly. Her passengers hurriedly got off of the panting dragoness. Arya, Eragon spoke mentally, for he would not have been heard orally. Can you help me heal her? The elf prepared to add her power to the riders but never had the chance as Shruikan lowered himself for a landing, towering over the now pitiful mass of Saphira. Arya was surprised as she was hurriedly thrust the egg by Angela, who kept the pack that had previously contained it for herself. The elf let her confusion show, even as she was aware she was about to die.
Take it to the Varden, Angela projected calmly to Arya and Eragon. Understanding dawned as Arya shook her head stubbornly, despite the situation. Would you have the dragon race, the Varden, doomed? This is our only chance! Angela exclaimed angrily. Arya started, because this had happened before. Once again she was faced with a daunting decision, one she was not ready to make. It was happening all over. Different companions, different foes, and a different egg. But the similarities were horrible. Must fate constantly repeat her tricks? And why upon Arya? The choices had always fallen to her. Again she had to choose between the egg's safety and her friends'.
Despite her usual logic, Arya responded, I would not desert my companions. Not again. Faolin and Glenwing fell dead to the ground. I would not repeat such a foolish mistake, and will leave neither you, nor Eragon, and the elf felt the Rider's agreement, as his loyalty matched her own.
To the elf's horror, Angela smiled grimly. You needn't worry about that. He's going with you. Eragon's eyes widened, but his unheard screech of "Letta!" was too late as Angela's voice projected a simple word with an unmatched power. "Gánga." Both elf and rider's feet moved against their will as Angela's spell took effect.
Shruikan reached the ground and Galbatorix unmounted, grinning with malice, staring directly into Angela's gaze.
Saphira! Eragon wailed as he was sent running away with Arya by his side, both desperately fighting the spell, to no avail. They'll kill you! Fly away. Please, please fly away…
Worry not, little one, they would not so readily extinguish the last hope of the dragon race. Saphira replied through her exhaustion. They hold no such hesitation when it comes to you, the dragoness continued, content with Angela's simple, yet quite effective spell. I am strong enough to withstand. And for a moment, the rider almost believed it. Almost.
"What do we have here? A witch and her dragon pet?"
Saphira growled. Galbatorix looked in the direction of the rapidly fleeing pair, knowing one was the dragon's rider. He turned his head aloofly and took his time in inspecting Saphira, who made no move against him under the watchful glance of Shruikan. "You would be a fine mother to your race, Saphira." Galbatorix drawled in mock admiration. "Perhaps…" the tyrant looked over to Shruikan distastefully. "How's Thorn?" He received a growl. "I quite agree, he is quite a pitiful excuse for a -" Angela drew her Hûthvír in preparation for attack.
SAPHIRA! The rider continued.
Stop whining! Saphira snapped. I will not be killed. Run. Guard Arya. Do what you must to get the egg to the Varden. The dragoness' voice softened. And do not look back.
I can not leave you!
Galbatorix merely seemed amused by Angela's actions. "Now, now," he said sternly, as if to a misbehaving puppy. "None of that. The dragon race can be easily rebuilt. All you must do is give me my egg and dragon and I'll be on my way."
Angela simply readied her weapon in her grip.
Eragon, you must!
Arya will get it to the Varden, she doesn't need my-
This is madness! I can not desert my companions again!
"Come with me, rebuild the dragon race-"
Release this spell, witch!
For the last time, we WILL BE FINE!
Get it to the Varden, I'll-
"- and the riders -"
- defeat the Empire -
Saphira!
"Curse thees feet!"
" - of eld were fat an -"
-gela, cease!
"Letta! LETTA!"
Bjartskular!
please -
" - just - "
"LEAVE!" Before it's to - Eragon was cut off as his dragon's mind spiraled into unconsciousness. One hit from Shruikan was all it took.
Saphira!
The dragon's head swam as black spots obstructed her vision.
Little one…
The striking of metal rung through the trees as Angela engaged the tyrant.
Faolin!
Victory! Angela cried, knowing the egg had escaped as the black blade plunged into her gut.
ANGELA!
Saphira? SAPHIRA! No, no NO!
The blue shape was lifted in the ivory talons of the ebony dragon.
…take it.. t-to the Var…
A black dragon, with one figure on back and another in claw flew towards the castle ramparts where a smaller red dragon and man were waiting…
The citizens of Uru'baen awoke from their sleeps in confusion…
A woman lay dying on the ground…
And two anguished figures ran sobbing and yelling into dawn, with a third in their arms and their ears still ringing.