Around the courtyard Eragon could see an assembly of men gathering in confusion awaiting his orders. Thinking quickly, Eragon bellowed at them to stand down and ran for a horse by the stables. Grasping at the reins, he wheeled it back to the courtyard and took off galloping his heart pounding as he continued to try and find contact. But there was only silence. And then he felt a sliver. But only that.

The gates parted for him as he rode out into the night, where the grasses were long and the wind was whistling past his ears and he felt the torrent of desperation in his heart as he rode blindly towards the source.

A moment later, there was a rustle and the Shade, cloaked in the black of night had darted out of the shadows, and much to his annoyance he cast a quick spell that illuminated his deceptively scrawny figure.

"What have you done to allow my prisoner to escape," Durza hissed, "when the King hears of this I'll be sure to testify before him myself."

Biting back a retort, Eragon and the Shade continued onwards, and Eragon had no means of diverting him without going against the will of Galbatorix. Eventually they reached a forest and he was forced to dismount, the Shade crept along silently behind him as they slipped through the trees and dense foliage until Eragon caught a glint in the still darkness.

Elf eyes, he thought to himself and trod carefully forwards. Durza, whose eyesight was even better had unsheathed his blade. The light was gone, as soon as it came.

Then a flash of green lit up the canopy of the clearing and he ducked, Durza leapt aside. Eragon shouted in the ancient tongue and there was an almighty flash. Having set the surrounding trees aflame with blue that did not scorch the bark, he saw Saphira lay in the dark clearing, barely stirring.

"She is not harmed", a voice came from the darkness. "We would not harm her if you come with us to the Varden. Abandon the empire now Eragon."

Unnerved, with warring instincts inside his heart, Eragon shouted back, "You fool! Why did you not escape when you had the chance!"

"You are too great a threat to be left alone for Galbatorix."

"Who are you talking to, and what are you speaking," Durza hissed hoarsely from behind. He gripped his weapon with its scar tighter. "I can see them in the dark, where to attack. They surround us now. The one to the front of you is the elf. How did she manage to recover so rapidly?"

"You know I cannot do what you ask without death," Eragon said desperately. "Flee now while my other oath still holds or I will not hold back."

"You leave us with no choice." Eragon heard, three pairs of blades drawn.

With a cry, Eragon threw himself to the left under the cloak of darkness. Durza had leapt forward and was exchanging blows with Arya. In the shadows, he dodged the clumsy thrust of the sword, and with a sweeping foot threw his foe off balance. One hard blow to the head put him down and Eragon wrested from his grasp…

An red elven blade, he thought to himself wondrously. But he had not time to ponder. The next second, a darting foe had leapt down from the trees and he narrowly avoided the swing. With another wild cry in the ancient language he lit up the forest with blue flickering flames and came face to face with Arya, the elf.

Arya's face was inscrutable as she surveyed him. Then she approached steadily as they locked gazes and eyed each other's footing. Then from behind Eragon, he heard an inhuman roar and that gave Arya the opening to attack.

The blade was swift, he thought to himself, and truly an unparalleled experience to wield. Now the elf's blows had no jarring effects on his arm, as the blade was its equal.

Another dragon, he thought quickly to himself as he tried to ward off the attacks that were coming into his vision with blinding speed and he frequently had to dart around tree trunks to avoid the attacks. But how had Durza not seen the dragon? Arya must have cast her spells well.

Arya was determinedly crafting her attacks with the intention of forcing Eragon into the darker spots of the wood where he had not thought to light, and where she would have the advantage in sight. The sound of clashing blades echoed through the dark woods, bouncing off of another pair from a hundred metres away, the roar and fury and slashes of a dragon, and then a small burst of flame. It is a small dragon then, Eragon thought to himself grimly. He had no wish to kill, not the least a dragon, the most majestic of creatures. Eragon's strategy was to hold off Arya and then dash off towards Saphira and see if he could revive her of whatever magic they had used to subdue her.

Eragon broke off and thought of the several words he needed. Instantly, a dozen of trees came crashing down from atop and flames erupted out of the wreckage. Arya leapt deftly through the carnage to stop his escape but was recalled by another moan and a wild cry of triumph.

That gave Eragon the chance as he hurried as fast as he could, cursing his human limitations as he trampled through the uneven and muddy ground. When he at last reached Saphira, he found to his horror that he was unable to identify the magic involved. Cursing, he twisted around searching for another opponent in the night.

The Shade hurtled past him, and Eragon watched in astonishment as he was challenged by two fighters, one old with a long grey beard but moving with a swiftness that belied his age. He had appeared to be wounded, with blood still trickling from his chin, but his wound had been healed. He recognized the second young fighter, who was handsome, vaguely as the one he had knocked down previously and stolen his sword. He too, moved and teamed well with his older partner. The Shade had also had to contend with the dragon, which for some reason or other was still rampaging in the darkness some fifty metres he estimated away.

There was a great snap! Then to Eragon's astonishment, a young red scaled dragon took flight over them, shadowing them all and appeared to gaze directly into Eragon himself. Eragon reached out with his mind, but before he could do so, the red dragon dived rapidly towards the Shade who had again regained an upper hand against his two foes.

Feeling his underlying oath compelling him, Eragon raised his hand to say the words that would bind the dragon but before he could do so, Arya had charged out of the forest blade drawn and her angry eyes flashing. Instantly he was drawn into another mental battle, but this time it was one in which she dominated, giving him no space to counter-attack at all. Drifting into a complete daze in an attempt to defend himself, he lost track of the time and flow of the battle completely as he was consumed in the mental darkness…

After what had felt like an interminable time of excruciating pressure as Eragon mustered every defence he had mastered from Galbatorix to ward off the elf, he felt the pressure slipping and threw himself forward. The Shade was again fighting Arya along with the old bearded fellow. Before he could intervene however, the younger fighter stepped before him drawing a second blade.

Waving his hand and bellowing, Eragon reduced the already injured dragon behind him again to the ground, howling with rage as thick roots sprung from the earth to bind him. Gasping with the effort, it took Eragon all of a precious thirty seconds to dispatch his foe, and having deduced that this fighter was indeed a rider, he felt no need to strike the death blow for Galbatorix who would want him captured unharmed. He stepped past the fallen figure, the next trio were still engaged in combat. Coming forwards, he felt his chest stiffen and quickly threw himself into combat. Arya, breaking off from the Shade, turned towards him attacking fiercely, determined to finish him as quickly as possible…

But behind her, there was again that same cry as before, and Eragon spied amidst the weaving blows and focused combinations of attack, the old fighter from before was lying at the forest floor a pool of blood surrounding his chest. At that crucial moment, the Shade had leapt into the air behind the elf his mad sword swinging, that she was forced to block and that opening was all Eragon needed to drive home his blade into her abdomen, hating himself all the while. Arya staggered a few steps and briefly parried a blow from the Shade before she collapsed, fresh blood wetting the long grasses at their feet. Behind them, the dragon struggled against his binds futilely.

"So that's that," Durza declared. "Not a bad fight either, quite challenging for a change, and yet we triumphed. How are we to transport the beast?" And before Eragon could stop him, Durza thrust his blade quite deliberately against the red dragon's spine, and gutted its back. Harsh sounds of agony filled the air as Eragon shook with revulsion.

"Are you mad, Shade?" Eragon violently pulled Durza back away, "Galbatorix will have your head! This is one of the last of dragons! One of the only three left in the world! Have you gone utterly insane?"

Durza drew his blade and pointed it at him. "I'll not have you dictating my actions, we cannot transport the beast willingly without injuring it first. Galbatorix will understand, it might take some time, but he can heal the beast."

Blood continued to flow freely from the red dragon, its scales were bloody and a complete mess to look at. Eragon turned, resigned mustering up the words that would allow him to heal the worst of the injuries. Before he could begin however, he heard a faint rasp behind. It was the old man, coughing up blood, crawling as well he could with his hands, his weapon left behind. "Eragon," he whispered.

Durza turned as well. "Well what's this? Still alive, old man." With a savage kick to the face he sent him sprawling aside.

Eragon turned back to the shade. "Let me speak to him." He felt something in his heart stirring, pity perhaps for the pathetic old figure on the ground, his last moments alive. He stepped forward, while Durza sneered, and lowered himself to his knees till he was level with the old man.

"Eragon," he whispered softly, "I am Brom. I was the father who bore you. Serena… Serena was your mother's name."

Durza stared in disbelief and then broke off again. "Whilst all this is very touching, no doubt, I have to call the soldiers from the city to retrieve the prisoners."

Brom began again, weaker this time. "The Red egg, I and Jeor stole. Morzan. Had to hide it for Varden to retrieve. I confronted Morzan, but to my greatest shame I was defeated but managed to escape. I assassinated his dragon. Morzan discovered Selena's betrayal, my betrayal and your birth, you are my son. He found you, kidnapped you from your aunt, uncle, cousin. My fault. I kidnapped Murtagh, Morzan's son." He grabbed Eragon closer, wheezing. "You grew up under him, under him and Galbatorix… I am sorry, I failed you. I could not rescue you all these years. And now you have become a rider, I am so proud… so proud… You are still good… I can feel it, Eragon. Still pure. My legacy… is yours from now on. You are free… Eragon, free…" and with that the old man called Brom closed his eyes and died upon the shoulder of a stunned Eragon.

Rising unsteadily, he caught a glance at Durza who was looking equally dumbfounded, staring back and forth between Eragon and Brom, again and again. He sheathed his blade and started to turn away, walking rapidly through the woods.

"Not so fast." Durza turned again, questioningly. Eragon tested himself, checking with his mind, and his heart, and his chest still heaving. Yes, the load was lifted. It was definitely true. It was definitely true. "YES!" he shouted out in triumph to the starless sky above.

"I need to return to the city," Durza said curtly again, "before the prisoners all die from their wounds." Eragon was still heaving in and out, in and out like a madman, his eyes wide as he stared at his palms. "What foulness has gotten into you?"

"Don't leave, Durza. I'm not finished with you yet." Snarling, Durza drew his blade and marched back towards him.

"I thought… I made it perfectly clear… you are in no position to give me orders!" he snarled. "This entire night, this entire debacle was your fault, your doing. You should be glad if Galbatorix lets you keep your head after this!"

Eragon was still in a trance, standing fixed to the spot unmoving. In his heart, he was wrestling, with the course of action. What should he do? What future was in store for him? Could he really escape Galbatorix now? Where would he go? And finally, what would he do with Durza? Did he have the strength?

Coming to a decision, he drew the red blade and probed with his mind. Now that the heat of the battle was finished he could tell the nature of the complex elven spell-work. Yes, he could do this, and do the world a favour, his first act of goodness. He felt a surge of hatred towards the Shade as well, odd as it was, he was not sure why. But he could always make it look like an accident as well.

The Shade was a formidable opponent, and well his match with the blade. His lithe form flitted in and out amongst the trees as they clashed, Durza was snarling with rage at this apparent betrayal, and utterly, Eragon knew confused. All the while, Eragon knew his plan was coming into fruition.

A flaming arrow flew through the trees and he just narrowly avoided it. Seizing the opportunity, Durza's blade whipped out in the darkness that he just ducked under before stepping behind a trunk. "Is that all you have, Durza" he taunted him again and again. The Shade grew more impetuous, lashing out. Another flaming arrow jumped out, this time aimed at the Shade who leapt aside hissing. Eragon quickly cast a ward so that a third arrow was stopped dead in its tracks. Moments later, the young fighter who had apparently recovered and revived came charging out at the woods livid and his face streaked with rage and tears. He lifted his palm so that Eragon saw its silver bright flash in the darkness. The Shade jumped forwards and attacked again and Eragon was forced to dodge even as he halted the spell. Groaning with exasperation, Eragon sent three bone breakers to his legs and heard him howl with agony as he collapsed into a bed of leaves. The Shade grinned madly and slashed again. Eragon dodged, manoeuvring the Shade to follow him.

Eragon raised his palm again and sent a blue ball of energy streaking towards the Shade, although it startled him, Eragon knew that the attack was pointless as Shades were largely immune to magic. However it served to distract Durza and cause him to gloat.

"If that is all that you are capable of, I'm afraid I'll be sending your head back to Galbatorix along with the prisoners!"

Then in the forest clearing, a twig snapped. And there was a low growl.

And then an enormous burst of flame erupted from the behind and a great raging inferno consumed the blackened figure howling with pain as he struggled to turn. Saphira emerged with her great forty foot wings outstretched and a steady thick stream of molten fire pouring forth.

Eragon flew forwards and before the Shade had time to turn again, Saphira's fires went out suddenly with a flash and Eragon plunged in with the red elven sword into the Shade's back, piercing through his heart. The Shade shuddered with a great finality and began to dissolve. A wind picked up amidst the howling of fallen spirits as the Shade knelt, a vanquished figure, his grey form being swept away along with his black cloak, dissipating into a cloud of haze that finally mingled with the fine, crisp night air.

Eragon fell to his knees, his heart still in a great terror at all the revelations and he felt himself completely paralyzed and in a state of complete void. But before he could collapse completely he felt himself swept up warmly into Saphira's embrace and laid his head close to hers breathing harshly.