Beta-reader: Dragonblooded

Eragon hurried through the camp toward Nasuada's tent, fifteen minutes late. He had been summoned from the other side of the area occupied by the Varden, a people he had decided to support in their struggle against a common enemy. Eragon knew this meeting was important, since the inevitable battle, likely to take place on the Burning Plains, was close.

A guard standing at the entrance of Nasuada's tent spotted him from afar and stuck his head inside the opening to announce his arrival. Eragon nodded at him gratefully and headed inside. Saphira was currently on a hunt, but he felt her at the edge of his mind, listening to everything happening around him.

Nasuada shot him a quick glance as he stepped inside the tent, but immediately returned her attention to Nar Garzhvog, who was sitting in front of her. Only a table was between them, to Eragon's displeasure. Their alliance was only a few hours old, and Eragon was still wary. King Orrin was also present at the table. Next to Nasuada were Arya and Elva. A soldier armoured from head to toe stood behind Garzhvog, as added security. Eragon looked at him doubtfully. The man was so thin he would break like a twig if he got in an Urgal's, let alone a Kull's, way.

"Forgive me, Nar Garzhvog, but I must refuse. The Varden is far better than it once was, but we simply cannot afford to feed you and your people, particularly when Urgals are known to eat twice as much as normal men," Nasuada said politely, but firmly. Eragon's blood started to boil when he realized what the Kull had asked of his Lady. He immediately went and stood next to her.

The soldier guarding Nar Garzhvog bent his head toward his ear and started whispering furiously. Not even elven ears could pick up what they said. It suddenly dawned on Eragon that this was not a Varden soldier chosen to keep an eye on the Kull, but a soldier of the Urgals.

I did not expect Urgals to accept mercenaries. Eragon muttered to Saphira, who growled in response. His connection to Saphira reminded him to open his mind towards his surroundings. Oromis' advice rang inside his head. It is better to have an open mind and face the risk of an attack than to be blind to what is coming your way.

He carefully reached out to touch Garzhvog's mind, hidden behind slick stone walls. From time to time he caught something, but it immediately slipped from his grasp. Then his mind flowed into the soldier's.

As soon as he reached out with his mind, he had to withdraw back behind his shields. A painful hiss escaped him, earning him some strange looks from the people in the tent. Saphira's attention shifted from a stag with hopes to outrun her to him. He hid his shock behind a blank expression. Eragon felt Arya's eyes remain on him. Usually, that alone would make him think of her and nothing else.

Not this time, though. He was stunned. Never had he felt such a strange mind. Completely enclosed in stone-cold walls with spikes protruding from them, it was ready to fend off any person who got too close. And Eragon had gotten rather close. He felt as if his mind had been burnt where it had touched the other, though there was no fire.

Little one, are you alright? Saphira asked. He sent her reassurances and focused once more on the Kull, who had started to speak again.

"Lady Nightstalker, we understand. But it would be unwise for us to hunt with enemies so close. If I can help it, there will be no loss of life due to hunger." Nar Garzhvog spoke Eragon's language with a rough accent. "We can offer you some weapons in exchange for food. Once the battle has passed, we can start taking care of this trouble ourselves. But until then, I insist on enough food for my men."

Nasuada sighed heavily, obviously worn down by the constant troubles recently finding their way into the light. "Very well then, Nar Garzhvog you shall have it. Give the cooks a list of how much your people will need. And while some weapons would be useful, not many will appreciate Urgal weapons."

"We have not only our weapons, but some from your people, a few from the dwarves and even one from elves. We have no use for most of these and will gladly pay our debts with them." Nasuada nodded in acceptance.

The Varden leader bent forward and unrolled a map laying in front of her. "I believe it is time to discuss our strategies. We have some spies in our ranks. Creating a strategy this late might confuse them and their reports." She then started to put flags of units under her command on the map.

Garzhvog suddenly got up from his chair. "I believe it is time to exchange my place for my …" The Kull searched for an accurate word. "… the closest would be sister. She is our best strategist. And we are so heavily outnumbered, we must use all the help we can get. She planned battles for Stavarosk," Garzhvog looked so proud, Eragon thought he might burst.

"Do not exaggerate, brother mine," answered a surprisingly soft voice, muted more so by a helmet, which the soldier took off. Eragon heard sharp gasps of breath from everyone in the tent, including himself.

An elf-girl put her helmet on the table and took a seat, unbothered by the stares. Her head was crowned by a silver braid, slowly disappearing beneath her armour. Her face looked feline and sharp, like most elves, but her skin appeared almost ashen. Eragon stepped back and diverted his stare the moment her cold blue eyes bore into his.

King Orrin suddenly stood, outraged. "What is this trick? You brought Islanzadí's spy to us?!"

Arya growled and put a hand on the handle of her sword. "Don't insult us, human. That sort of trickery sounds quite like something you would do, but it is certainly beneath us. I assure you, she has nothing to do with my mother." Orrin stared at Arya and opened and closed his mouth few times.

Nasuada stood and slammed her palms on the table. "I believe none of us have extra time to spare bickering, so let us stop wasting it and instead focus on what must be done." Arya nodded and stepped back, her hand leaving her sword. Orrin grumpily sat back as well. Nasuada nodded towards Garzhvog. "Would you please explain us this situation?" She gestured between the Kull and the elf.

"There is nothing to explain, Lady Nightstalker. Garzhvog's parents found me when I was six years old. Instead of killing me, they raised me according to their traditions. At the age of sixteen I went through the same rituals as an Urgal warrior, and when given the chance, I presented my strategies. They paid off. After that, I proved myself to our leaders until I was allowed to lead my own unit," the newcomer said with a smirk that reminded Eragon of Vanir.

Orrin shouted, "What?! Nasuada, you can't accept advice from this… this… abomination! She is not a pure elf, not even a real Urgal. Where does her loyalty lie? What can this girl know about wars and strategies?!"

"King Orrin, let us call things by their real names. Mine is Marzanna. Tell me," she spat, "What do you know of loyalty? Your people follow you, just because you were lucky enough to be born into a family who achieved years ago something great. You only live off of their success. Besides blood, by what right are you a King? My people follow me because of my achievements, because they believe in me. Trust me when I say that Urgal traditions are made for only the toughest of us, and yet I proved myself against those odds.

Tell me, King Orrin, what is your great strategy for this battle? Do you plan to just ride against them and fight, and hope that you will beat your odds, too? I have more than one hundred years of experience. I think we can safely state that I have a better grasp on this than you." She finished with a terrifyingly calm voice. Marzanna silenced his interruptions. As an afterthought, she added, "If my loyalty worries you, consider me an Urgal in all ways but looks."

King Orrin sat back in his chair and looked expectingly at Nasuada. She only sighed, obviously torn. Finally, she spoke: "I am afraid, Marzanna, that we cannot accept your help in this. Nar Garzhvog leads his people, but we do not know anything about you. We cannot rely on his word alone to ensure you are on our side."

Marzanna nodded without argument and collected her helmet as she rose from her chair. "Very well, but remember, we did not promise you our fealty, merely our alliance. And as such, we will command our own strategy in this battle. I thought, Lady Nightstalker, that you were in no position to refuse help, but I see I was wrong." Eragon saw outrage in Nar Garzhvog, but to his surprise, the Kull allowed Marzanna to handle the situation. "We shall be leaving then, but to avoid shedding our people's blood for a people who would not do the same for us, we will be taking the east-south corner of the army." With that, she whipped around and left, with the Kull behind her.

The tension in the tent immediately disappeared. Eragon looked at the map presented by Nasuada and counted. "Did she really mean that? They will be outnumbered seven to one. Even for Urgals it seems a bit...much," he exclaimed.

Nasuada seemed surprised by it, too. "We shall see. You know their strength. We shall continue as before."

+BREAK+

It was only a few hours until they would charge at the King's Army. Eragon lazily sat in his saddle on Saphira, playing with a dagger. He was upset by Nasuada forcing four Urgals into his guard, even though he understood her decision. Eragon still had their memories on the surface of his mind.

He paid little attention to what happened behind his back. He relied on Orik to protect him. What caught his attention was the rough language of the Urgals, spoken in a soft voice. It gave him goosebumps, the way they clashed. Eragon easily slid from his saddle to the ground. He had wanted to speak with Marzanna since he saw her for the first time. Saphira was just as curious as him.

Marzanna was barely visible, basically hidden in her brother's arms. They only thing Eragon could see was her grey sword. As she pulled away from her brother's hug, the Rider stepped closer to them. He waited a few seconds before he spoke. "Atra esterní ono thelduin." She raised an eyebrow.

"I am afraid, Firesword, that I do not speak the ancient language, except for very few words. And none of them are the ones you have said." She finished with a smirk on her lip, something Eragon had started to believe was almost permanent to her. Then Eragon remembered. She had not grown up amongst people who would speak the language. There was no reason for her to know it. Marzanna let her eyes roam over his body, not even bothering to hide it. Eragon did not want to give her the satisfaction of knowing he was uncomfortable, yet he could not hide a shiver.

When she finished with her inspection, she bowed slightly, clearly ridiculing any gestures of politeness. "It was a pleasure meeting you. Now, if you will allow me, I shall..."

"No, I won't," he said without a second thought. He so badly wanted to wipe that smirk off of her face that he decided to play her game. He regretted it the second he realized he that he did not know how to continue. "May I take a look at your sword? I believe I recognize the work of elves?"

He noticed her posture stiffen. Eragon felt a little guilty. He had already learnt it was no good to make enemies amongst elves. She said, "I am afraid I have to refuse. You wouldn't give your sword to an enemy willingly, would you?" She then sighed and unsheathed it anyhow, laying the blade carefully on her hand for him to see. "I do not know for sure who made it, but I believe your assumptions are right. I only remember running at the edge of woods, carrying a sword I could barely lift, not knowing where to go. After my parents took me in, they took it from me, and gave it back when I proved myself a proper warrior."

Eragon inspected the sword. It was very delicate, detailed work. He expected to see a thin and rather short blade, as he saw Arya carry. Yet, the sword bore a blade only a little thinner than Zar'roc's. Unlike his sword, the pommel did not have a gemstone inside. Yet, the sword scared him just as much as his red one.

When he looked at the sword as a whole, he felt as though it rang a bell, but he could not place it. He asked Saphira, but neither could she. "Does it have a name?"

"Not one that I would know."

"There is a great blacksmith I met, when I was training with the elves. She is called Rhunön. She would be able to tell you a lot about this sword."

Eragon, don't tell her more, how can we know if we can trust her? Saphira warned. Eragon immediately regretted how reckless of him it was to reveal what he had already. Her looks confused him. He sorted her with all the familiar elves he knew, yet her mind, behaviour, and speech were so different. "You should name it, so all people realize what is coming their way."

She gave him another smirk. "They won't have time for that." With that, she turned on her heel and left. Eragon was surprised by her sudden departure. He did not realize Garzhvog had been listening to them until he spoke.

"You must forgive her, Firesword. She has always been rather brazen. But that is what her unit loves her most for, and what the rest of our population hates her most for," sighed the Kull.

Eragon looked up at him, no longer feeling the resentment toward him. "Nar Garzhvog, you mentioned a strange name in the tent. Stavarosk, was it? What is it?"

"What is this treachery, Firesword? How can you not know one of our greatest accomplishments?" exclaimed Garzhvog. The Urgals behind him muttered angrily as well. The group of dwarves sharpening their blades stopped all of a sudden, ready to take care of the Urgals should they decide to harm Eragon. Even Saphira growled, putting a halt to all the angry chatter.

"Please, forgive me, but I truly do not know what you are talking about," Eragon said.

"That drajl! Stavarosk is the battle where we slaughtered more than half of the king's army. He is so scared to let the world know of our success! Nar Tulkhqa united our tribes for the survival of our race. Otherwise, the king would wipe us out. We were so heavily outnumbered, the chance of us winning so small. But we crushed them," the Kull murmured with a hint of pride.

"So that is where half of Galbatorix's army disappeared to! How did you manage it?" asked Eragon, amazed. That was the secret of the Spine.

Garzhvog straightened. "Nar Tulkhqa knew our chances. He had had a few ideas of how we might be able to win. But he decided to ask all the young ones who had completed their maturity trial how they would fight this army. Most of them agreed that we should crush them with sheer force. But my sister came with a few interesting ideas our Warchief liked. So, he decided to use her.

She suggested we lure them into a tight mountain pass, where they had to divide their forces. Then, we cleaned out some passages in between the trees, so we could roll boulders through them. We managed to cut them into even smaller groups, and pushed some of them into the river. Their heavy armour did the rest of the job. It was a massacre."

Eragon was stunned into silence. "Many urgralgras wanted to kill my sister for suggesting something so degrading. We fight directly with strength, not indirectly with smarts, even though I would rather not admit it. After the battle everyone knew we would have lost without her ideas.

Before our tribes parted, Nar Tulkhqa made her a captain of her own unit. Since then she has been choosing her soldiers very carefully and trains them in her own way. Not everyone agrees with it. My people do not like strangers and they do not like an elf leading urgals. Even after so many years."

Nar Garzhvog looked sharply at the Urgals behind him, who repaid him with a nasty glance back. Eragon tried to process all the information. "It seems to me like you admire her greatly."

The Kull laughed. It sounded like thunder to Eragon's sensitive ears. "I do. When I was growing up, she was fully grown already. I dreamed of being like her. Many urgralgras have thought they can challenge her as leader of her unit and win. Many urgralgras were wrong. It was because of her that I chose to prove my strength by killing the bear of Beor Mountains."

Eragon thanked Garzhvog for explaining so much to him. The Kull seemed pleased and backed away from Saphira's seat. That was an interesting conversation. Urgals are just as difficult as we are, if not more, said Eragon to Saphira.

They may be difficult, but they are not the one insistent upon standing to Galbatorix himself, Little one. Get some rest. I will wake you when it is necessary.