So, now that I've finished up the tenth chap. for CTE, I can finally get back to this story. I ended the last chapter with something of a cliff-hanger, though it provided spoilers to Inheritance, so read that before you start hating it and reading this. Now, the slashers are allied with the Varden and their allies, and Galbatorix has sent a 1,000 strong army to take back Belatona. What will happen? Read for yourself, and quit asking me!
Eragon walked toward Arya, when he heard the man named The Prowler rudely snort, "These werecats look like a bunch of pussy Chinese commie imports! What the hell are a bunch of morphin' house cats gonna do?" He obviously intended for everyone to hear, though, and many,especially the werecats themselves, shot him a nasty look, and pointed and whispered.
Eragon instead turned to the person named Madman Marz and asked, "Is there any way to make this bastard quit being suck a jerk?" However, it was the man named Chromeskull who replied, "Marz-he can't really talk."
Eragon groaned, and whined the same question to Chromeskull.
"He's that way. Prowler, he doesn't like anything or anybody really. There's no way you can make the guy happy, and he'll always shoot an insult pointing out how inferior you are. But it's not a really good idea to insult him back, or heaven forbid, you get in a fight with him!"
Eragon groaned again, and he kept walking around, when Saphira told him, Eragon! I saw them! They're coming through two routes, into Belatona!
Who? Who is coming, Saphira?, Eragon asked, when she landed, and said, in an out-of-breath manner, Galbatorix-he has sent several soldiers to take back Bealtona!
Eragon gasped, and asked how many there were.
More than 600, at the very least!, she replied.
He ran to Nasuada, Orik, and Jörmundur, and told them what Saphira had replied.
"What?! More soldiers? But, why? Galbatorix has never sent someone to take ba-," Nasuada said, only for Orik to guess something.
"Some soldier or spellcaster or spy of the Empire must have escaped, and told Galbatorix everything! He must have even told them of these new allies, the slashers! No wonder he would try to get Belatona back-after his army's horrendous performance here, he probably thought it was unfair, and is getting his revenge!"
"Spread the word, all of you!," Nasuada cried, and they nodded as they ran around and shouted the warning of the Empire's reinforcements.
"I don't give a shit about why this loser's sending more guys-if he wants a battle, we'll give him a bloodbath!," Michael raged, and Freddy, Chucky, and the Tall Man followed at his heels, while Pumpkinhead roared angrily as Pinhead and Candyman followed at his side.
"I honestly don't have much of a clue of what's going on, but if we're gonna be killing those red bathrobe wearin' fags, then it looks like it's my chance to give them their just desserts! They gave me this wound on my left ankle," The Prowler said, and he opened a tear on his pants to reveal a huge, bright red, glossy slash.
"Sir, you are in no condition to be fight-," Nasuada was telling him, when he snarled and said, "You're not gonna be the one to give me orders, dammit!"
-POV change-
The Miner walked up over to the elf, who the man named Eragon said was named Arya. His mouth went dry as she looked into her eyes, and he asked her, "A-are y-y-you okay?" Once those words left his mouth, he cursed in his mind, hissing Good lord! The moment those words left my mouth, I already made myself look like a complete idiot!
She glared coldly at him, sneering, "I'm fine! Now get out of my way!"
But Miner didn't get out of her way. He instead sighed, "Look, I know my father-"
"Your father, is perhaps the most rude, dishonorable, and STUPID person I have met! I feel sorry for you, having to live with that vulgar drunk!," Arya raged, and she shoved Miner out of the way.
Just then, one of the really short people with beards rushed over, screaming, "THE EMPIRE IS SENDING MORE SOLDIERS! MORE SOLDIERS ARE GOING TO ATTACK! GET INTO YOUR BATTLE POSISTIONS!"
He saw men shouting as they scrambled for their weapons, hurrying for their shields as they rushed past him, tense looks on their faces.
"What the hell is going on? What Empire?," The Miner cried, and several men gave him sneering glances, before they turned and ran forward.
"Galbatorix. It appears he is most displeased with his loss here, and has come to reclaim it," Arya said, before she ran forward at a speed The Miner was incapable of comprehending.
"Just what the hell is a Galbatorix? Could somebody please explain anything to me here?," Miner roared, and a nearby woman, with one of the large "werecats" by her side, tsked as she shook her head.
"Galbatorix isn't a thing, he is a person, albeit a cruel and mad one, you idiot! He is the reason the people of this land are suffer-," she was lecturing, when The Prowler stepped in and grabbed her by the shoulder.
"Hey, woman, you don't call my damn son an idiot! Only I can tell him that he is an idiot, and you have no such right! Now, get the hell out of here, 'cause this ain't a place for women! And while you're at it, take your damn kitt-"
"You will find I am much more capable than even you in combat," Angela sneered, as she pulled her Hûthvír out and aimed at The Prowler's heart, yet he caught here wrist and flung her, before he kicked the werecat in the jaw.
Shit, dad, why do you have to do this kind of shit in front of me?!, The Miner thought to himself, as his father pointed toward him and barked, "You! Son! Quit standin', and get your ass out there! We've gotta help these Englishmen kill those robe-wearin' faggots wandering! It'd be 'bout time you got your self into something useful for once!"
"Fine, dad," The Miner muttered under his breath, as he pulled out his pickaxe and looked upon Arya, and for a brief moment, her emerald eyes looked into his own. It was only for a second before she gave him a disgusted look and turned away.
He hated his father for this.
-Later On-
Eragon looked upon the two contingents of Imperials, 500 in each crowd. The right one(Eragon's left) was marching toward the iron tunnel leading into Belatona, where they would enter the city from. The left one(Eragon's right) was marching instead toward the sturdy gravel hills, which they would climb upon before leaping down, as well as position most of their archers.
"Why can't your dragon, Saphira, simply set them ablaze?," Pinhead asked him, and Eragon shook his head as he answered, "I have reached my mind out and felt that these men are all warded to such an extreme, Saphira's fire can go for at least 10 minutes, and their wards would not even be drained by a quarter. It appears Galbatorix has sent some his most potent spellweavers and magicians with them as well."
"And that's a problem?," Candyman mockingly sneered. He closed his eyes as he parted open his heavy coat, and revealed he had no stomach:it was just a rotting ribcage filled with nothing but bees, which buzzed through the air before they began joining the bees coming out of his mouth, and a swarm of perhaps millions of them zipped out, and swarmed over at least 300 of the 500 soldiers in the left group of the Empires soldiers.
Near instantly, screams of unimaginable terror and utter pain were heard as around 300 of the soldiers in the left group were swarmed over and getting quickly stung to death. The 200 or so who survived ran for their lives and crowded into the right group. The bees only focused on the left group.
Jason was trying at the same time to think up a way to mix medieval/magical and slasher-oriented tactics, yet with no success. He realized that if he didn't come up with something soon, the surviving 700 or so Imperials would charge through the tunnel and catch them all unprepared.
He quickly grabbed Candyman and turned him to face himself. "Candyman, you have to go with the three Killbots and get atop that right hill, which is our left. Tell The Prowler, Creeper, Tall Man, and Pinhead to get to the top of that left hill to our right, and tell them to take archers with them!"
"But why-?"
"Just do it!," Jason roared, and Candyman nodded as he ran to the others. Jason was intending to get those slashers who had ranged attacks atop the two hills with some archers, so the soldiers would be slaughtered in mass droves when they first came out of the tunnel, and not expect it. He hoped it would work.
-POV change-
Eragon ordered there to be 200 soldiers in front of each hill and in to the the sides of the tunnel. 80 Varden and Surdans, 50 dwarves, 30 elves, 20 Urgals, and 20 werecats. He had seen four slashers position themselves atop the hills, along with several archers and dartsmen. He looked to see Roran standing around as if though nothing was even happening.
"Roran! I though I told you to stand behind Arya and I and in front of the men alongside Pumpkinhead!," he roared to his cousin, whose face twisted in disgust.
"I"m telling you, Eragon! I am not standing near that blasted abomination!," Roran spat.
"Either do what Eragon tells you to, or I shall have you executed for insubordination and attempted betrayal!," Nasuada suddenly threatened, and Roran cursed violently as he stomped to where Pumpkinhead was standing.
"Are you ready?," Eragon asked, looking toward Arya. She nodded. Eragon and Arya were to stand in front of the rest of the soldiers and in front of the tunnel, ready to fire their arrows into the swarm of Imperial soldiers that he knew would be charging outward soon.
Just then, Jason ran up and shoved them aside, before he stood right between them. He looked to them and said, out of breath, "You're not gonna stand here by yourselves! There's a good chance most of the soldiers won't make it past the the archers and ranged slasher on the hills, but just in case-," and with that, he pulled out his bow and strung an arrow into it.
"Very well," Arya told him, when suddenly, an enormous BOOOOOOM was heard, and the ground shook. From the tunnel, several flaming granite shards flew out.
"They've managed to blow down the granite wall! They're coming soon now! Everybody, get into positions NOW!," Nasuada cried, and all of the soldiers of the Varden gathered behind her. The spear-carriers lifted their shields high in front of their chests and shoulders as they crouched, holding their spears out and at ready.
It wasn't long before the first couple of arrows, bees, Sentinels, chains, and lasers were fired as the first dozen or so of the incoming Imperials charged out of the tunnel. They were either shot, covered with bees, maimed in some gruesome way by the Sentinels, torn through, or simply splattered across the tunnel and surrounding area, and a couple of times, it was all that combined. And if the soldiers were lucky, it was in that order.
Many arrows were lit with flames-either mundane or magically-and some soldiers were shot with nothing but flaming arrows, so much to the point that their flaming guts and entrails were blown out and their blood was made flammable.
Bright flashes of light that blinded Eragon's eyes and cracking blasts that rang his eardrums were seen and heard as The Prowler used some incredibly bizarre yet equally advanced weapon to blow up heads as if though they were parchment and armor and helmets as if they were the softest of wool. He thought he heard the slasher laughing as his odd weapon scattered men and blew them to pieces.
As Eragon looked to the ground, he saw there were not many bodies, and instead just guts and torn off limbs strewn all over the place. The bodies that remained in one piece were either burning up or mangled, stung, and crushed to the point they didn't even look recognizably human anymore.
As he stared at the remains, Eragon heard multiple and rapid twangs, but they weren't from any of the archers on the hill. They were much closer, and as he looked, he saw Jason and Arya firing their own arrows at soldiers who had managed to run past the men on the hills.
He added his own fire as the men who made it past the hill-soldiers increased, though several came incredibly close to them. If they did, though, it was easy to use the melee weapons to kill those up-close. Several did so to Jason, only for him to hack one of their heads off with his machete, while two soldiers in a row-one behind the other-were duly impaled on his spear. In Jason's hands, the spear tore through armor and flesh with more power and ease than it looked like it ever would in the hands of a regular man.
Three swordsmen ran up to Eragon before he could fire arrows at them, and as one of them struck out his sword, the other two moved their swords over their shields which they raised in front of their chests as they moved at a slower pace toward Eragon.
He blocked the incoming blow with Brisingr, and shouted, "Brisingr!," and the sword flared up in blue flames, and as it did so, the magical fire quickly moved down the regular sword, before it began to eat away at the swordsman's right hand.
He screamed as he tried to use a part of his red tunic to snuff out the fire, but it simply set it ablaze as well. Eragon stopped the flames on Brisingr before he swerved the sapphire sword and used it to cut through the shields and blades of the remaining two swordsmen, before he shredded through the swordsmen themselves.
He turned to Arya and Jason, and saw them looking to several soldiers who had even escaped their arrows. But woe be unto those poor Imperials. They now had to deal with Roran and Pumpkinhead. The vengeance demon shrieked viciously as it batted one soldier aside with so much strength, several bones went flying out of him before he hit the ground with a nasty splat. The creature's claws tore through the stomach of a nearby archer, and his blood gushed out like water from a spring. However, he simply looked at his the wounds, from which the guts were beginning to fall out, and smirked.
Oh, no, Eragon thought to himself as he realized this man, along with probably many other soldiers of the Empire here, were immune to pain.
The man didn't even get a chance to stand up, though, as Pumpkinhead tore through his throat, and though the Laughing Dead were thought to only be able to be killed by decapitations or blood-loss, they still needed to breath, and this man was no different as he wheezed before he fell forward into his own guts.
Likewise, the soldier Pumpkinhead batted aside tried to get up and shamble back toward him, only for Roran to brain the man with his hammer several times in rapid succession. He hammered the jaw of another incoming swordsman and caved in the face a nearby axeman, before smashing in both the eyes of a rapier-wielder.
The remaining group of soldiers running toward them(which consisted of only 6 other soldiers) turned and ran, but not before Pumpkinhead ripped off the arms of one of them and beat the man with his own limbs.
One of the Killbots beeped and droned, "Trajectory fission missile prepared to fire in 12 seconds toward 15 feet ahead," and it rumbled before it's "chest"(or so to speak), clicked and opened, revealing an eerie halo of glowing red light, which turned yellow before some sort of object, around 5 inches long, 3 inches wide, and shaped like some metal cylinder, zoomed out at breath taking speeds and slammed into the ground at the feet of one of the feeling soldiers who had attacked Pumpkinhead and Roran.
The moment it hit the ground, it burst outward in a flash of red light, expanding for at least 18 feet before vanishing. Eragon and Arya gasped as they saw what remained of the soldiers caught in the shock-wave, and Orik muttered, "What, in the holy name of Gûntera-!"
The soldiers had been entirely stripped of their flesh, hair, armor, clothing, and muscle, and had been reduced to charred and soot-blackened skeletons. The bodies and severed heads and limbs had been affected likewise, while the splattered guts had been turned to dust.
"ONWARD!," an Imperial cried, and the men behind him charged forward, not caring as they stepped on the bodies of their own men. Some were torn up by the men upon the hills, while many were still felled by the arrows of Arya, Eragon, and Jason. But they cared not as they came closer and closer to Pumpkinhead and Roran, their swords and spears extended and ready to tear through the heart.
-POV change-
The bullets tore into the sun-bleached sand, men screaming and crying as the bullets from the machine gun nests shredded them apart. The sand turned red with blood, and the stench of decaying flesh grew pound by pound as many more, in just a few seconds, were slain.
He crawled through the sand, his left hand clutching his helmet, while in his right hand was a
Colt M1911A1. However, he didn't get the chance to pull the trigger. He was simply trying to get from the shore to the center of the mainland without getting a single bullet in him. He was barely able to move because of the continuous peppering of the 7.92-MM that hit the sand and all too many unfortunate times, the men next to him.
Suddenly, the bullets near him stopped. He saw his chance and scampered like a rat that nearly got splattered in a rat-trap, and everywhere he moved, the bullets stopped. It was like a miracle as he saw he was only several dozen feet from the center mainland.
That's when he heard the shout.
"GRENADE!," and without a second warning, the blast wiped out all other noise and caused his ears to ring. Wind tore off his helmet, and he was lifted off the ground and hurled onto a pile of overturned and ravaged machine guns in the nest.
He couldn't see, but he did raise his hand to his ear, and he could smell blood on it. He touched the area on his collar bone, and it felt wet as he could smell a greater amount of blood on that area. He tried to cry for help, yet it came as wheezing, dry cough. He croaked as he lifted his arm for help...
The Prowler suddenly snapped out of his daydream, and he looked around him. He saw the same red-robed men, many of them in a pack charging toward Pumpkinhead and the guy with the ugly hammer. He could tell that even Pumpkinhead, and no doubt that guy, were going to get overwhelmed by the sheer size of the troop, and so he tapped Tall Man on the shoulder.
"What?," Tall Man snapped, his right eyebrow raised as he glared at The Prowler. "This better be meaningful, boy!"
"We jump down," Prowler replied, and Tall Man gazed at the ground below the hill. "You must be kidding."
"No kidding included," The Prowler smirked.
"But-"
"Either you come with me, or I'll rip your damn ass clean off and shove it up your dick! That's a promise, to make sure, and I never once broke a damn promise!," The Prowler snarled. The Tall Man looked back down, before he looked back up to Prowler, and hissed, "Fine, but I'll only be doing this so your filthy hands won't have to so much as touch my buttocks!"
Prowler looked to see several more of these stone-age, sword twirling hacks were helping Pumpkinhead and the hammer guy, but all of them, even Pumpkinhead, were getting overwhelmed quickly.
You have to kill the magician helping them, a voice suddenly said in his head.
"What?! Who, who-who the hell just said-?!"
"It was me!," a young man shouted, and Prowler looked over to see the young boy who had been firing arrows with the dumb, pointy-eared girl he had slapped and with Jason.
"Wait-so you contacted me through my mind?!," The Prowler yelled back at him. How dare some little whorish teen with a light-up sword invade his own mind, much less his very privacy.
"Er-yes," the boy awkwardly replied.
"Let me teach you something about humility, boy!," The Prowler snorted, and pointed to Tall Man and said, "We jump down-now!" He had said it so loudly, the Imperials looked to see him, but before they could look at his position on the hill, Prowler and Tall Man had already leaped down. Somewhere behind him, Prowler could hear the screeching death throes of a man being crushed by Tall Man's fall.
Prowler walked over to the boy first, though, letting Tall Man do his own thing. Shoving Jason and the pointed-eared girl aside, he swiftly kicked the boy in the balls. Then he turned around, but what he saw was something different.
Instead of the red-robed Imperials, he saw fellow comrades getting shot up or speared by bullets and bayonets, all from the Germans and Japanese. They were grinding his American friends-people he had fought with for 3 years-into dust, slaughtering them like lambs. He witnessed two of them getting blown to pieces by a grenade.
If there was anyone who was going to teach them a thing or two about humility and fear, it would be him. No one else could do it the right way.
-POV change-
Eragon felt as if though his balls had been set on fire from within. His face tightened, and his eyes bulged and watered, making them look like boiled egg-whites. His guts cringed, as his lower body felt like bleeding. He bit into his tongue, and oh so quickly, he soon tasted blood in his mouth.
He turned his head and saw the man named The Prowler, the slasher who had kicked him in the groin. His eyes twisted with contempt in regards to the man, and Saphira laughed to him, Perhaps next time, you should learn to talk to people like a normal person, rather than just invade a man's privacy!
Shut up, Saphira!, Eragon groaned telepathically to her. He could hear her growl of detest, but otherwise, she said nothing back.
Yet for all his brash rudeness and venomous hostility, Eragon just couldn't deny The Prowler's prowess in physical combat. He first shoved a pitchfork through a man's stomach and back, when the armor should have prevented such a mere and simple farm tool from penetrating. He lifted the man and twisted the pitchfork, before he tore it out and, by sheer accident, in the process of doing so tore apart a nearby spear-carrier's forehead.
He then proceeded to repeatedly gut another soldier with the pitchfork before he brained him with his fist, caving in his helmet and crushing him into the ground. Taking out his bizarre weapon(the one he had used on the hill), he quickly attached some odd large blade onto it and grabbed an archer, pulling him forward while shoving the blade of the weapon into his gut at the same time, before the weapon uttered it's loud and bright bang and flash, and blood erupted from the archers back before it entered a rapier-wielders torso, blowing it up in a flash of viscera.
The weapon went into use again, blowing up a head and forehead, before it fired off into a nearby swordsman's chest, and then entered the chest of another soldier just around three feet right behind him. Smoke rose from the gory remains.
"H-h-how? My wards and constant spells fueled to protect them-," a man suddenly moaned, and from his red tunic with the gold flame on it, it was obvious he was of the Empire.
"You the magician protecting this scum?," The Prowler asked, and the man bitterly asked in reply, "What if I am?!"
"Then you get to meet it," The Prowler sneered, and he pulled the blade off the weapon and ran forward before slashing the magicians throat. His lifeless body crumpled in a heap. With this, Pumpkinhead didn't waste time in exploiting the soldiers' sudden weaknesses without the magician's help.
Eragon stumbled as he got up, and as he did so, he saw one of the Tall Man's so called "Sentinels"-this one being gold and gray-open a small square hole in the center before it unleashed a searing torrent of yellow flames, the men thrashing before they succumbed to their wounds.
He saw Blödhgarm and three of his elven spellweavers in mental combat with another magician, as evident by the increasing strains and looks of angry desperation crossing their faces. The magician grew pale as he narrowed his eyes, only for another Sentinel to bump into his head on purpose. The magician gasped, before his face grew sickly pale-more so than before-and he rasped, before his eyes closed and he collapsed to the ground. A second later, he stopped breathing and died.
Eragon fully stood, but still wobbled a bit due to the pain from The Prowler's groin attack. As he thought it over, he saw The Prowler step in front of the tunnel, and he took his helmet and cloth rag off, revealing the hair and face of a man well over 50. Eragon couldn't understand how such an old appearing man could fight like that, nor how he could be so-well, built, for lack of any better word.
He took out what looked like a dark green avocado, and bit something off of it before he tossed it into the tunnel, and quickly did the same thing with another one of the avocado-like weapons. He placed his rag and helmet quickly back on before he ran back and yelled, "Grenades!"
Only two seconds later, the ground shook with the force of several tremors, and almost in the middle of the tunnel, two huge fireballs and pillars of black smoke exploded outwards, carrying several screams with them, and tossing out several flaming body parts and fiery chunks of iron.
The fire hissed and crackled as it quickly subsided, billowing smoke taking it's place, and with the dying of the flames, there were laughs. Not just any laughs. Laughs of men who should have been dead.
More than a handful of Laughing Dead came from both sides of the wreckage in the tunnel. Some were covered in flames, while others simply sustained wounds that should have, by all accounts and means, killed them instantly.
The 200 men at the sides of the tunnel ran forward to greet the Laughing Dead, yet they were no match as the soldiers sustained brutal wounds and cut down the rebels trying to defeat them. An Urgal swung his flail and tore flesh off a soldiers neck, but he heeded it not as he slit the chest of the Urgal.
"What the hell-?," Jason gasped, and Eragon looked to him and hissed, "The Laughing Dead. They are soldiers who have been magically modified by Galbatorix to not feel any pain and survive wounds that should leave them dead. They usually laugh as this happens, to demoralize us, and that's how they got their name."
"How can you kill them?," Jason asked, and Eragon said, "The only two known ways to kill them is by blood-loss or taking the easy way out and beheading them, but even that takes skill."
"Skill doesn't mean shit to us! You think we find it hard to do this?," The Prowler sarcastically and mockingly sneered, before he lifted the odd weapon and pulled back something five times, all times blowing up heads, before one of the Laughing Dead-who had wandered close in a pack with others-was pulled forward when Prowler grabbed his right shoulder, and Prowler shoved his blade weapon through his head, with a sickening squelch.
Jason raised and swung his machete, instantly decapitating four soldiers at once, while the three Killbots used their lasers to blow up three heads in rapid succession, making a mess of the scene.
-POV change-
Roran saw the slashers destroy the Laughing Dead like it was their job or something. He brained two soldiers while leaping over a fallen boulder, which had been rocked from it's original position due to the "grenade" explosions. He prepared to sneak up on a crossbow soldier, but it was in vain, as he fired a bolt which tore into Michael Myers.
The bolt tore through his chest, and, as Roran could see it, was only a few inches from touching his spinal cord. Blood began pooling from the wound and onto his shirt.
"NO! BLAST YOU! HOW COULD YOU?!," Roran shrieked, and the crossbow soldier turned to laugh and snigger at Roran, laughing, "What? Is little Stronghammer going to cry his piss out? Bah!," as he prepared to fire upon Roran.
Yet, for just a few seconds-maybe only two-Roran saw Michael rip the bolt from himself, throw the bloody and broken object aside, before he walked toward the crossbow man.
"I don't die that easily, bitch," Michael said simply and flatly, and the crossbow man turned to face him, and raised his crossbow, hoping to hit Michael's face.
Yet Michael would have none of it. He raised his kitchen knife, lowered it and turned it to an angle, and swung it, hitting the crossbow and tearing it to splinters as it flew from the crossbow soldier's hands, only for his hands to fly off as well, leaving bloody stumps.
The man looked down at the blood gushing stumps, then back up at Michael, and laughed, "Ha! I don't die that easily, either! You're going have to do much more than just that to cause me pain! I doubt you have the knowledge to find out how to that, though."
"Well then, smart guy, let's see what will make you tick," Michael sneered, and he grabbed the man by his helmet and spun him around so his back was facing him, and shredded his knife through the area just between his head and neck. More than a handful of major arteries were severed as the man was beheaded. His body slumped to the ground, yet his head remained in Michael's hand. He took a good look at it, before he hurled it at a swordsman of whom was dueling with a Surdan soldier. He was distracted and didn't see the Surdan slip the sword into his head.
Michael looked at Roran. "Looks like I'm in my own debt now. You didn't try to save me."
"I, I...I thought you had already been slain by the bolt," Roran stuttered, trying to find some explanation.
"But you still didn't try to avenge me, even if I didn't die," Michael said.
"I, I-I, er, well..."
"Doesn't matter," Michael replied. "We're supposed to be killing right now, not lecturing each other on the likes of morals and vengeance. Isn't that correct?"
"Er, well-you know, during battles, you can't always score a perfect kill-," Roran was saying before he was cut off.
"You'd be eating those words once you see us," Micheal stated.
-POV change-
Eragon cursed as a boulder fell just a few inches in front of him, from the hill. If he had moved any faster, he could have been crushed flat. Bits and pieces of stone fell from the hill, some of them almost as large as boulders themselves, as the hills groaned and rumbled.
A whoosh was heard, and a bright light came forward. He first thought it was Saphira, breathing flames upon the soldiers, but it was not blue enough to be her fire, nor was the heat from the fire too intense, but more along the lines of "just right". A tongue of flickering yellow flames, moving as fluidly as water, rushed onward and licked over a spear-carrier. The left cuff of Eragons's shirt went up as a small part of the fire came over it, and though it was small, Eragon quickly snuffed it out. Unlike magical or dragon fire, it did not spread in an instant, nor did it eat away much.
The flames died out, and he saw it was from some large, metallic, dark object, still emitting small tufts of black smoke, in Cropsy's hands.
The men were Laughing Dead, and therefore felt no pain as the fire consumed them, and ate their flesh. Cropsy took notice, and took out gardening shears(he knew what they were, as he had seen Garrow use them) and open them, before he shoved them through a soldier's head, before he closed them, ripped them out, and swung the shears, instantly decapitating the next soldier. He placed the shears back, and took the flame-breathing object out again, which hissed as at least a dozen or more men were set ablaze. Yet again, they felt no pain, yet this time, once their flesh had been burnt away, they began to bleed out rapidly. This caused them to bleed to death much faster than before.
Just as they fell, though, Saphira unleashed a torrent of sapphire blue flames, most of it covering other Imperials, but several of Cropsy's victims who had just been burnt were also attacked by Saphira's fire. Being the Laughing Dead, the men were actually able to scream before they died, but it was satisfying to know that her flaming breath could kill them quickly.
Cropsy looked to Saphira. "You use-use the same thing that happened...to-," he was saying to her, and rather bitterly, before a rapier-wielder sneaked upon him, and drove his rapier into his neck. Blood began to gush out as the rapier was withdrawn, and Cropsy uttered a horrific, pain-ridden wail, though it was also scratchy and cough-like in the process.
Eragon rushed to him, realizing that, unlike most of the other slashers, Cropsy was just a man. He needed to heal the wound as fast as possible, before he bled to death. Cropsy opened the shears, his hands shaking as he did this, and tore the head off the rapier-wielder. He then gasped as he clutched his chest, dropped the shears, and fell to the ground. His eyes rolled into his head before they shut.
Eragon bended over and tightly placed his hand over the wound on Cropsy's neck, so as to stop the bleeding. He directed his thoughts toward the wound, and cast a non-verbal spell of healing, though he had never been taught a spell so as to heal such a grievous wound.
First, the dead and mangled flesh pushed into the wound by the rapier was spat out, and Eragon then cast a longer, more complex spell so as to make the scar tissue and newly forming flesh to grow faster. As blood began to come from Cropsy's mouth, Eragon made the pus dissolve as he prepared to mend the damaged vein from the attack.
However, he was stopped by Arya, who pushed his hands away and muttered something under her breath. In an instant, the vein shifted as it reconnected, coming back to its original, normal bright blue hue. Cropsy began coughing blood as his eyes began to twitch.
"Will he survive?," Eragon asked, looking up to Arya.
"He will. However, it could take at least three days for his muscles in the wound to get used to the effects of the wound, despite it being healed," she replied.
That's when they heard the chainsaw start up.
-POV change-
The Imperial magician's eyes were wet and veined as he made his way through the smoke. He coughed repeatedly as the smoke entered his mouth.
There was a reason he was sent to take back Belatona. He was one of Galbatorix's most trusted servants, and the king had taught him his fair share of powerful magic, and mental attacks. He glared upon an Urgal wielding an iron bound club in his right hand, of which was smeared in gore, and a shield of oak upon his left arm.
He opened his right palm, and a white orb, no bigger than an apple, flashed up. It hummed for a second before it zoomed outward toward the Urgal, and the magician sneered as it hit him, not minding as the blood and guts splashed over him.
He turned his attention to a group of Varden cavalry and spear-carriers pushing back several soldiers of the Empire, and he prepared to focus his mind upon them, to take them out in an instant, in a show of flashing yet deadly light.
His focus was ruined as a werecat leaped upon him, and it hissed and yowled as it scratched through his face, and he cried out as it bit into his cheek, taking much flesh and blood with it.
"JIERDA!," he screamed, and the werecat was slammed in the chest with such force, it was thrown off and landed atop a pile of guts and on its back. It lifted its head and hissed.
"Brisingr," the magician whispered, and the werecat went up in white flames. It unleashed a hideous mixture of a shriek and a howl, which no normal creature should have uttered. It began to thrash wildly, setting the guts below it alight as well. It pawed at itself, in some futile way to get rid of the flames, but it was useless. The werecat quickly burned to death, and it lay still, uttering one final moan of pain and despair before it died.
The magician turned his attention back to the cavalry and spear-carriers, and began to focus his mind and sight upon the men. He began to mouth several words in the Ancient Language, preparing his spell, hoping to combine several of the Twelve Words of Death.
That was when he heard the sound. It was alien, and not once before in his life had he heard such a menacing, such a blatantly malevolent, noise. It sounded something along the lines of voom-voom-voooom-VVVOOOOOOMMMMM-VVVVVVVVOOOOOMMMM, and then went on into a repeated rattling hiss.
The magician turned to look in front of him, and saw some kind of man wearing some mask of some kind of leather. His hair was brown and disorganized, twisted even, and he was wearing some kind of apron, stained with old marks of human blood. He lowered his arms, wielding a huge weapon equipped with razor teeth, covered in a rather rusted old chain. He seemed to sneer both sardonically and vehemently, showing his crooked mouth under the open lips of the mask.
He lifted the weapon and pulled it back for a second, before he drove it forward, and the weapon shredded through the magician's face, quickly eating a hole in his face, before it came out the back of his head. Blood flew all over the place, as the magician fell backward, the weapon tearing his face in half.
-POV change-
Eragon cursed for the fifteenth time today as he pulled his foot out of the stomach he had just stepped in. He looked to Arya.
"Anymore left?," he asked, taking in the scenery around him. Smoke littered the air, and boulders kept the mounds of bodies rather short.
"I'm not sure. I've detected a few men, but my mental connection has ebbed just now. Whether it has been magical interference from-," she was saying, when a haggard, hook-nosed man started walking up to them, and stopped a few feet away.
There were two axemen right behind him, tall and burly, and the man cleared his throat rather unscrupulously before he lowered his head, staring directly at Eragon, and pointed at him. He muttered something under his breath, yet Eragon heard nothing of it.
The buzz was faint at first, and Eragon simply thought it was Candyman's bees. But it soon grew louder and louder, until he couldn't ignore the buzzing to his right, and turned his head.
What he saw was a whole swarm of black dung beetles. Their shells and wings glowed despite the lack of light, and their pure black eyes bulged, covered with slime and diseased moisture.
He knew they were summoned to consume him and Arya to the bone, and there was nothing to stop them. Saphira was too far away, and everyone else was behind the hills. He only wished it wouldn't be much too painful when the beetles started ripping his flesh off.
He closed his eyes as the buzzing grew ear-piercing, and started praying to an unknown god, any god that had the ability to save him, in anyway, just so this wouldn't happen to him.
His prayers, though, seemed to be answered, when the swarm stopped several inches in front of him. It stood frozen before it quickly zipped away and covered the magician and the two axemen, the former of whom's eyes bulged and lit up in terror and utter shock, not understanding how his spell backfired, and was now ready kill him and his men. The three men tried to scream yet failed miserably, as their lips and tongues were quickly torn up and eaten. Within seconds, nothing was left of them but their skeletons, which collapsed in a broken pile of bones.
Eragon and Arya stood in shock. Arya gazed at him, and said, "I-I, I heard you praying. Could it possibly be-?"
"It must be the only way his spell could have backfired in such a way," Eragon answered, nodding, as he shifted his gaze uneasily to the skeletons, but they disturbed him in some indescribable way, and he turned away.
"Really-the only way?," a familiar voice sneered sarcastically. The crunch of bones and squish of fallen guts was heard as he stepped closer.
It was Pinhead, the Tall Man to his left, dragging a bearded, hawk-nosed, angular faced man. Their was a chain embedded in his right shoulder and his left was grabbed tightly by Tall Man. He had a look of fear and regret deep in his eyes, and his mouth was downtrodden in an anguishing frown.
"You-you were the one who did that?," Eragon asked.
"You were there when I did those other attacks, those other backfiring spells. What made you think some god had the care to stop that spell?," Pinhead mockingly answered.
"Somebody, help! Please, somebody! Someone help! Please, let me go-!," the man cried, and Eragon and Arya turned his attention to him.
"Just who is this?," Arya asked, and the Tall Man looked to the mans face, before he looked back up and replied, "From what we have learned, he is a man named Commander Ramlonear. We found him running away with 5 other soldiers, yet we killed them and scanned this mans mind before we found out how useful he might be," a wide grin breaking out over Tall Mans face.
Eragon felt a drain on himself. He looked to see an arrow at Arya's feet, of which was not there before, and realized someone had fired an arrow at her, yet his wards had just barely managed to stop it from touching her.
There was a group of around 20 men in front of them, 5 being archers, 7 spear-carriers, and 8 swordsmen. Eragon made one of them go up in bright blue flames, yet he continued, and to his dismay, the men were Laughing Dead.
"Get back," Tall Man muttered to them.
"Why?," Eragon asked him confusedly.
"Get BACK! Don't question me!," Tall Man cried, and Eragon could only nod as he and Arya grabbed Ramlonear and, with Pinhead, scurried backwards with him.
They saw Tall Man reach in his coat, and he shifted through before he brought out a rather large Sentinel, about the size of the head of one of the Urgals' maces, and it slowly lulled forward through the air. Yet, this Sentinel was also starkly dark green, and had several thin, diagonal and vertical lines running through it. It came to a stop in front of the head of one of the swordsmen, and from it's two slits, the two signature forked blades popped out, and the Sentinel latched itself into the forehead of the swordsman. Being a Laughing Dead, he couldn't feel it, yet the Sentinel uttered an odd ring.
Then, they learned why they had to get back.
The moment the ringing stopped, the Sentinel burst violently, releasing a shockwave of red and yellow flames, before a cloud of black smoke came and covered everything. In the midst of the smoke cloud, Tall Man was lost from view.
Eragon stood aghast. "Is he-is he de-?"
"No," Pinhead replied simply. "He'll be okay. Only the smoke covered him, and I've heard of no man who has been killed by the touch of smoke."
"Is-is it over?," Ramlonear asked queasily, and Pinhead looked to him and spat, hissing, "How the hell should we know, you damn dirty coward? You think, that just because of some explosion, it's all said and done? You-?!"
But Eragon intervened, and looked into Ramlonear's face, whispering, "Slytha," and the commander's eyes shut before his face went slack.
More than 100 KB. That's how long this chapter is. I tried to publish it by Oct.31st, Halloween, but due to heavy school and church work, I couldn't finish it in time. Now that one of Galbatorix's best commanders has been captured, and Belatona has been defended well by the Varden, how will that turn the tide of the war? And people, please, please-REVIEW! I've been reduced to begging for them! Even if you have no account, review anonymously! Please, people, tell me what you think of this story! Give me some constructive criticism!