URGALGRA

The Kull lowered his massive horns, his face twisted in a sneer. In his right hand he held a black, razor-sharp scimitar. Across his shoulder slung a crude willow bow, but a deadly one nonetheless. He would use it if need be, but he preferred hand-to-hand combat, as it allowed him to directly feel flesh and bone dissolve beneath his ferocious blows. Usually he tended to knock down his opponents with his wooden shield and then use his hands to squeeze the life out of them. This method was the source of an innate primal pleasure which imbued his species. As he let his vision linger over the sight before him, however, a strange sensation clutched his stomach. His stoic face suddenly took on a disturbed look.

"Gazhov," he called to the Urgal near him, "what is that?" He pointed ahead.

"I can't be sure, Nar," the smaller creature responded. "But unless I am much mistaken, it appears to be a ship."

So he had been right. The Kull's gut tightened painfully. He was not scared – no, such emotions did not exist for most of his kind, especially Kull. However, he was uneasy. A ship had not dotted the horizon for decades, not since he and his rams left Alalëa to explore this land. Back home, tensions between the accursed elves and his kind had dwindled; the rams had succeeded in purging the land of nearly all of them. The women they had not killed – such an act brought no glory and was only carried out by cowards. Neither did he or his rams subject them to their own pleasures. This was not due to mercy; his kind simply found elven females ugly and repulsive. Instead, they were kept as slaves, doing the petty works of his people, work that was below even the dams. If an elven woman cried or provoked a family, the dams and cubs would not hesitate to smite them. For them, such acts were not disgraceful. Some elven males had fled, but age would take them in time, no doubt. As for him and the Urgals under his command, they had been sent out to settle this distant land, and they had had but one purpose: to conquer.

When they had arrived on the land, however, they found no creatures of intellect to conquer, much to their disappointment. A hoard of massive, wolf-like beasts had emerged from the densely packed woods as they had headed inland, and he and his rams had taken relish in approaching them in kind, savoring the thrill of the soon-to-be minute battle as they wielded their bows, arrows notched. However, a shout from a group of maturing cubs had stopped them, and they had briefly turned around to search for the cause of the disruption. The cubs, their horns just beginning to jut above their mangled hair, had insisted on killing the creatures themselves, if only to earn their entitled honor. Heartily, he and the Urgals under his command had consented.

The cubs had roared and lowered their heads, banging their iron-spiked clubs on their metallic shields. They swung furiously as they headed straight into the mass of beasts. A torrent of roars and clamor entailed, and after several minutes, the beasts had been slain. In the process, three cubs had fallen dead. They had been honored by their funerals. The rest of the cubs who had survived had been granted honor not bestowed to their kind in living memory. Most cubs only killed goat or deer, and even the younger Kull dare not hunt anything larger than a bear. The cubs with him had needed the experience, though, as they had come to the new land on the premise that they would submerge themselves in real war.

The Kull rapped his head and tried sorting his thoughts; he had to keep them in the present. Now real war will happen, he thought. Yet, once again, the sense of calm certainty in prevailing evaded him, as did the thrill of war. That ship is so slender and well-crafted, he thought dimly. Never once in nearly a century of living have I seen something of that nature, not even among the elves.

Even now, the ship was approaching at a determined pace, not changing its course. The Kull barred his fangs and roared. Do they not know that if they come ashore, we will shred them to bits?

When finally the ship was less than a mile away, an idea struck him as though he had been rammed by a battleax. He could think quickly under pressure, and other than his unnatural height and brutal strength, this had been what earned him the title Nar. His physical attributes were uncontrollable; in them, he took no pride. His mind, however, he genuinely valued. It was something which took him beyond the average Kull, and something which he had worked on improving as the years had progressed. "Kesem!" he called to the Urgal magician near him.

The Urgal rushed to his side, eager to be of assistance. "Yes, Nar?"

"Go to the shore now. Extend your mind and tell me who the people that dare come to our land are."

The Urgal's response was as quick as the Kull's battle blows. "Of course."

The Kull's brow furrowed as his gray skin tightened. Of all the skills he possessed, magic was not one of them. Just as his kin had no say in who became a Kull and who didn't, magic similarly was a gift in which no one had a say in. It arbitrarily came to whoever it pleased, cub, ram, or Kull. He disliked the whole notion, because it made him vulnerable to something he could not counter and he did not derive any pleasure in having to rely on others for this sort of matter. He at least had learned to shield his mind against magical predators. In matters like this, however, he was at the mercy of magicians under his command.

He waited impatiently as Kesem approached the brink of the shore. Once there, he watched him inhale sharply and close his eyes. After a moment, he squealed and took a step back.

The Kull bounded toward him, his heart thudding wildly against his chest. "What's the matter?" he shouted.

Kesem turned to face him, his face struggling to maintain its calm, but the traces of fear dotting it betrayed his emotions. "I-It's just that I just encountered the strangest conscience – or should I say consciences – in my entire life."

The Kull paused, heaving greatly. "What do you mean? Quick, speak!"

Kesem quickly darted around, trembling slightly as he watched the ship grow even closer. He then turned around again. "It's just that I feel well over a hundred minds, although they seem to be intertwined into one. They are all these massive, alien things, and each one individually can crush my mind if I dare attempt to penetrate it. There are a handful of other, separated minds jumbled in there, and these are the only ones which seem somewhat familiar. They have the feel of an elven mind, though still much different than the ones in Alalëa and much more powerful. At the very midst of these minds is this one elven-alien one which hums with authority and is by far the most potent."

The Kull himself, despite having been inured to the dangers of battle for decades, could not help a tremor from gripping him. He was tough and powerful, yes, and so were his dams, but if what Kesem said was true, he had no hope of victory. He had Kesem and another small group of magicians with him, but they were not even the top of their class back home, and based on Kesem's description, they could not hope to defeat the intruders even if they joined minds. He was a ferocious leader, but he was not a foolish leader. While other Nar may have pursued battle regardless, he himself was a realist, and he had no intention to lead his people on a suicide march.

He gritted his teeth, hating to do what he was about to, but knowing he had to do it. He was aware of the potential consequences. Yet, it was the right thing to do, and since when had anything stopped him from doing just that?

"Kesem, call out to the intruders, and greet them. Convey our greetings and tell them that we come in peace and mean no harm. It's most likely that these people are of war and wish us harm. If this is the case, we will crush them to smithereens. But until them, proceed as I have commanded."

Kesem threw him a quizzical look. It wasn't every day that a Kull, especially a commander, issued an order which involved peace. He could see, however, that the Urgal did not object to his decision. On the contrary, his eyes seemed to gleam with approval.

Kesem once more closed his eyes, undoubtedly reaching for the flow of magical energy stored within him. He then stood still as a statue for several minutes, teeth clenched. Sweat dripped from the corners of his horns. Eventually, he flinched and seemed to recoil.

"It's pointless," he hissed. "I can't so much as brush against their minds."

The Kull spat, fury etched across his withered face. His yellow eyes flashed viciously, and it seemed as though sparks would shoot out from them. His mind, however, was still clear. "Fetch the white flag, then. Hoist it, quick!"

Another group of Urgals began fumbling back to one of the camps in an attempt to search for the flag. Their efforts were for naught, however. The Kull had explicitly instructed Kesem to find the flag, and for good reason too.

Even as the group of Urgals began to take their third step toward the camp, Kesem had already begun muttering in the ancient language, his knees buckling. A moment later, a white flag freed itself from the confines of a half-collapsed tent and soared through the air to the magician. Satisfied, Kesem grabbed it and hastily smashed it against the ground, though he kept it upright. He once more rumbled in the ancient language, and then the flag, as if on its own accord, began rising higher and higher.

The Kull and the group tensely waited for a few moments. Then, something bizarre happened: a terrible pain erupted in their minds and a penetrating sound assailed their ears. Some of them clumsily stuck their fangs into their ears in an attempt to blot out the sound. Others shakily grasped their horns and heads to ease their searing minds.

The Kull knew they had all heard the sound; he could see it on their faces. However, the voice was not external – it seemed to emanate from within their own skulls. The voice was speaking in the Urgal tongue, though it was heavily accented and seemed to be getting fed from something like a memory by another interlinked mind.

The voice spoke again: Hello, friends. I repeat once more: I come not to harm you. The people on this ship have come out seeking another land. We did not expect to be met with other living creatures. The others here and I are thrilled with your decision to raise the white flag; a very wise one, indeed. In case your friend Kesem did not warn you, we are a formidable opponent and it would not do you well to wage battle against us. We promise you that, should you be willing to welcome us into your land – erm, Urgalgra as you call it – with open arms, no harm shall befall you, and that we will leave within the week.

The voice paused. Then it continued in a rather bemused tone: Oh, and by the way, my name is Eragon Shadeslayer.