Turn of the Tides Chapter 4: Wait, what?
A/n: Greetings, and welcome back to another installment of ToTT. For now, the Warhammer 40k-esque bloodbath is over, but come the "official" start of the Varden/Empire war, the bloodbath will be either incredibly disgusting, fucking awesome, or both. Most likely both.
Anyways, lets get this shit started.
The memories were pure torment, pure chaos, nothing clearly defined except for the pain. He didn't know who he was, or here, only that he had the memories to keep him company. Memories of Carsaib, of Durza, of the one who brought much pain for his own amusement. The tide of evil crashed down on him, threatening to rip his floundering mind to pieces and scatter the jetsam across the sea of pain. He watched as Durza destroyed villages and towns with a wave of his hand, laughing maniacally as the people screamed in terror and pain. He watched as Arya was tormented and abused, with a fresh wave of sickening evil glee racing through his mind at the sight of it.
The images howled away to be replaced with other acts of evil. He struggled against the tide, but his faltering strength against it was as nothing. A single bright memory, one of his own, stood out among the storm, a picture of his companion and partner, a beautiful blue dragon, her name lost to him. He latched onto it with all the strength of a dying man, and refused to let go. Another one of his memories, one of Roran and Garrow, both of them laughing down at the local bar at some joke one of the other patrons had said. This one spiraled in around him, and latched on, giving him strength. Another memory, one of him and Murtagh sparring and enjoying the fight, came in, hard and focused, cutting through the evil like a well sharpened sword, and latched on as well. More memories began to flood in, many of his own, each one connecting to the core that sought shelter amongst the insanity, each one contributing strength to the weakened mind of Eragon.
The darkness around him recoiled, and then struck anew with a fury that made its previous thrashings look like mere ripples. Eragon struggled against the chaos that threatened to consume him, but the evil was irresistible, and his memories broke off and fell away.
Without warning, the evil was suddenly repelled by a golden light, seemingly from everywhere and nowhere at once. No longer crippled or blocked by the remains of Durza, all that was Eragon came crashing back down on him, relieved to be reunited and whole once more. A gentle, but unquestionably powerful and vast presence surrounded Eragon, and as he continued to rebuild his sanity as much as possible, the presence spoke to him, causing his very being to tremble.
"Greetings Eragon Shadeslayer. What you have wrought will have many repercussions in the world, some good, some bad. But you have done an incredible service to the peoples of Alagaesia, and I salute you."
Eragon compressed himself as much as he could, not exactly willing to trust this mysterious being. "Who are you?"
The golden presence surged in power, and the darkness clouding the edges of his mind vanished, destroyed by the light. "I am Osthato Chetowa, the Mourning Sage, and Togira Ikonoka, the Cripple Who is Whole. I come to you in peace, and to save you from the evil you have slain." The last part was in the Ancient Language, giving Eragon some measure of relief. "Why have you done this?"
The Mourning Sage seemed to smile and yet remain sad and pained at the same time. "I have done what I can to save you, because you are the only one which can defeat the mad king lurking in Uru'Baen. All would have been lost if you had fallen, and for the briefest moments, you did. You are strong, Eragon, but not strong enough, nowhere near enough, to kill the King. Come to Ellesmera, to the elves. There I will reveal myself to you and teach you all that you must know to save us all. I must leave. Communicating at this distance is exhausting, and I cannot keep it up much longer. Farewell!"
Something flashed across Eragon's mind, something which this Mourning Sage must know. "Wait!" The Sage 's connection weakened, but did not break. "I am not alone in those who can kill Galbatorix. Newcomers from another universe with incredible weapons and warriors have come, and they can help." Interest flooded across the steadily weakening connection. "Warriors from another universe? How?" Eragon dug through his mind and showed the Sage several images of the UNSC forces, including their ship and the Spartans. The connection continued to become more and more tenuous, and Eragon knew it wouldn't last much longer. "This is unexpected, but I sense no falsehood about these memories. If they prove to be steadfast allies in the dark times to come, then this may be over sooner than we expected." The last words were faint and barely intelligible, and with a snap, the connection faded. Peaceful darkness flowed in, and Eragon slept without dreams.
Oromis gasped as the connection was severed, shaking as the magic took its toll on him. Behind him, Glaedr rumbled in concern for his companion's health. They both sat there in Oromis' house for a moment, processing those last bits of information the young Rider Eragon Shadeslayer had given them. These new warriors, those who stood taller than a Kull and moved faster and more gracefully than an elf, they were very powerful indeed. Their weapons were a complete and utter mystery to him, weapons that emitted loud bangs and flashes of fire and smoke, weapons that caused bodies to fly apart as if they had been hit with an explosive spell. And then there was the ship. It was an ugly thing, no smooth lines or brilliant colors and made of a dull metal, a vessel clearly constructed for the explicit act of waging war. Who knew what weapons it carried if the newcomer's infantry weapons could do what they did. It disturbed him, and Glaedr as well.
"What do you think old friend?"
The lifetime companion of Oromis rumbled, "They are something which cannot be trifled with. I saw what they did to that army, destroyed in less time than it takes for Rhunon to forge a piece of armor. Humans should not have that level of destructive power in their hands. And yet the Shur'tugal said they wielded them with a skill that merited years of use and training. If I know anything about warfare, and I do, I would say they are no strangers to what they did... or possibly fell victim to."
Oromis downed a small glass of faelnirv, feeling the liquor race through his body and warm him from the inside out. What Eragon showed him was a valuable piece of information, and he knew the Queen needed to know what he had learned. It would wait until tomorrow though. He was flat out exhausted, and his body and mind needed rest. Glaedr hummed, the deep rumbling shaking everything in the house, before moving into their bedroom and curling up in his hollow on the floor. Oromis stood and turned to look up at the stars for a brief moment, before he too, retired to sleep. If he had waited a few seconds longer, he would have spotted a moving speck of light coming over the horizon from the southeast.
Eragon awoke, but barely, still caught within the embrace of a deep sleep and not willing to let it go. A thick blanket was wrapped around him, and he snuggled deeper into its warmth. A moment later a small but viciously sharp pain near the crook of his right elbow interrupted his snooze, causing him to open his eyes and blearily look at his arm.
A small tube ran from a bag hanging next to his bed, through some equipment, and into his skin. The tube was secured by a strip of a gauze-like tape, keeping the needle from shifting too much. Around his bed, various machines and devices were arrayed, some of them covered in moving squiggling lines, others humming slightly. From these machines came wires that ran across his bed and to his chest, where they ended in a large white pad.
'I must be in their medical facility. I guess Durza really got me good if I ended up here,' he thought. Around him on other beds were several other people, including a dwarf or two and one of the Sangheili, the latter sprawled face down on his bed, the reason being his back was covered in bandages. Even from his bed across the bay, Eragon could smell the charred flesh. That one must have had a bad date with Fangs.
A warm presence pressed itself against his mind, and Eragon happily opened up to Saphira, the dragoness humming through the connection, pleased that her charge had survived. "Welcome back, little one."
Eragon smiled as warmth flooded the connection. "How long was I out?" Worry replaced the warmth. "Well... you were out of it for three days, and nearly died twice. Angela, Trianna, and the UNSC doctors did all they could to help, and even then it was barely enough. But we won."
Eragon thought about the battle, and asked, "How bad is the damage to the city? And how mad are the dwarves at you for destroying Isidar Mithril?"
In the cargo bay, Saphira snorted, a thin puff of smoke lancing from her nostrils. "Its very bad, and they are considerably angry at me, especially the clan Az Sweldn rak Anhûin. Fortunately they cannot get up here, as I've been told the Dawn, not only within the Shadow of Intent's cargo bay, is about fifty thousand feet above the ground. I thought about jumping out this high and diving as fast as I could, but their rather gruesome description of what would happen to me changed that."
Eragon smiled, and was about to tell her about meeting with Oromis in his dreams when a nearby holotank flared to life, Cortana doing a check on him seeing that he had awoken. "Well well well, sleeping beauty has awoken. How are you feeling?"
"Like I just got my back laid open by a psychotic possessed abomination." Eragon replied truthfully. Now that he had tried to move, his back burned with pain. Cortana let a brief flicker of worry pass across her face, before she checked his vitals again. "Well, considering what Durza did to you, I am impressed you managed to kill him. From what I've been told, the race of beings known as Shades are notoriously hard to kill. The fact you did it with your injury is more impressive still."
Eragon sighed, his back rippling with fire as he did so, causing him to grunt with the pain. One of the machines next to him gave a slight hiss, and a numbing sensation flooded his body, eliminating the pain. Cortana saw his confused look, and said, "Just some basic painkillers. It should help with the pain. A scar like that would have to hurt."
Eragon's hand flew to his back, and was rewarded with what felt like a hard, knotted line, running from his right shoulder to left hip. He felt the wound, feeling all the little knots and bumps, letting his hand wander over the damage done by Durza, wincing as he realized just how close it came to killing him. It was a high price to pay for the destruction of a great evil.
He turned to Cortana, who sighed. "We did the best we could, but every time we tried to seal the wound, the stitches would melt from whatever Durza's sword put in you. Eventually we had to let that woman Angela do whatever she could with her medicinal plants, and it seemed to work. However..." The AI hesitated
Eragon began to feel very uneasy at her hesitation. "What?" He asked loudly
"We have determined that whatever Durza did to you will have permanent effects, most likely very painful ones. There is some nerve damage throughout your nervous system unlike anything I have seen or know of, but if the damage is aggravated in the wrong way, say through excessive bodily strain, it can cause those damaged nerves to misfire into a vicious feedback loop. In short, if you participate in another fight or battle, the strain alone can cripple or kill you, let alone your opponent getting in a cheap shot while you are down."
Eragon groaned as he flopped back down onto the bed. How was he supposed to perform his duties as a Rider in a state like this?
Eragon looked over to the AI. "Is getting up and walking around considered 'excessive bodily strain'?"
She grinned and said, "Nope, you still have to walk around and deal with all the other little niceties that I hear comes with your position. Speaking of which, the Commander and the Shipmaster wish to speak with the leadership of the Varden, and they want you to come with them."
Eragon got a look on his face that clearly said he did not want to deal with politicians, especially right now. Cortana had to do all she could to not burst out laughing. After a moment she got control over herself, and motioned for Eragon to get up. As he sat up the door to the medical bay hissed open, and a empty wheelchair rolled on, motors whirring quietly.
After securing his clothes around him, Eragon sat himself down on the robotic wheelchair, which immediately spun around and headed for the door.
As Eragon rolled down the hallways of the ship, he took the opportunity to examine the vessel and its occupants. The ship itself was the same drab gray color that was the outer hull and cargo bay, with what few splashes of color belonging to the screens and displays or the signs painted on the floor. Everything had a sharp, clear surface to it, with the grain in the metal clearly visible. The people on board moved with a purpose, the Marines jogging laps around the ship to maintain their health, the technicians busy rewiring circuits and repairing systems, and, as he rolled by one of the holes in the hull, mechanics welding thick plates of metal to the gaps where the previous battles and Fang's attack peeled back the meters of hull like it was made of tissue paper.
As he rolled into Cargo Bay 2, Saphira lifted her head up and stretched, a shudder rippling from her triangular head all the way to the tip of her tail. Nearby, several other technicians continued to work on her armor, recharging the Gravity Hammer and Plasma Booster while they wired in power circuitry between the micro-reactor and the aforementioned weapons while at the same time implementing proper upgrades and form fitting armor plate. One of the technicians was complaining about the fact Saphira's armor was little more than spare experimental Pelican that was "a bitch" to work with. Outside, the purple and silver metal of the Shadow of Intent's massive cargo bay was visible, mostly through the melted and battered remains of the bay door.
Cortana's voice came up through the nearest speaker buried in the hull of the ship. "Saphira's armor is currently undergoing retrofitting with better fitting armor plate as well as some other goodies, and the original saddle got shredded during the fight. We've constructed a new one that should hold up in coming battles. But for now, Commander Keyes is waiting for you out in the cargo bay."
Eragon nodded as he eased himself out of the chair, wincing slightly as his other injuries flared through the fading numbness of the painkillers, before he hauled himself up to Saphira's back, and sitting on the new saddle. After strapping himself in, Saphira stood up and made her way over to the hull breach. Cortana's voice called out, "Head for the center of the Intent's cargo bay, look for the large black circle on the floor. That is where the gravity lift is and where the others should be. Be careful, its a bit of a drop to the deck."
Saphira didn't wait further and leapt from the opening, spreading her wings with a whoosh, pounding away at the air. The dragoness had already seen how vast the bay was, but Eragon was beyond stunned when he saw just how big it was. The Dawn was dwarfed by the volume of the bay, and Eragon guessed that under the right conditions 2 or 3 of the same class of ship that the Dawn was could fit inside and still have some room left. Above the damaged Frigate, several cranes and floating platforms maneuvered sheets of metal into place onto the hull before brilliant sparks of light fused the metal together. On the top of the ship, several more cranes were installing a communications array where the previous one once was. Other machines flitted about around the Frigate, repairing minor damage with brilliant flashes of light before moving on to the next section. It all had an interesting choreography to it.
Elsewhere in the vast bay, several more of those monstrous Wraith tanks sat on the deck, a few of them undergoing repairs from damage taken in previous fights. In the middle of the bay at the back, a gigantic 4 legged...thing was also getting repaired, one if its legs completely mangled and the upper turret looking like it had seen better days. The front of the machine was dominated by a large, 6 petaled weapon that almost looked like a eye, and this weapon glowed a bright poison green. Id hate to have to fight that thing in its prime, thought Eragon as he and Saphira approached the middle of the bay.
Waiting for them below were several people, with Thel, Chief, Keyes, Johnson, and a Mgalekgolo pair among them. One of the Sangheili standing there was wearing a different kind of armor, a brilliant, shiny silver, clearly signifying a high rank of some kind. Eragon got a good look as Saphira made a pass over them, and saw that this one was missing 2 mandibles on the side of his face. All of them were armed with a variety of weapons, although compared to what they were armed with during the battle, it was a light load.
Saphira angled towards the group and landed, her claws scratching the deck, and as Eragon dismounted the Sangheili in silver armor greeted him.
"Greetings, Dragonrider, and to you, Saphira. Welcome aboard my vessel, the Shadow of Intent. I am its Shipmaster, Rtas Vadum, and commander of all Separatist forces onboard."
Eragon inclined his head in response, feeling that it was the right thing to do, and was about to respond when a certain someone showed up, chattering excitedly.
"Its wondrous what my makers have managed to create here! The portal machine below this mountain is something which is almost on the scale of the installations themselves! Oh hello there, Reclaimer." 343 Guilty Spark directed the last part to Eragon. "I am 343 Guilty Spark, former Monitor of Installation 04. Would you like to know how this came to be?"
Johnson rolled his eyes. "Not now lightbulb. Your ring getting blasted to smoldering bits is a story for another time. We sent your annoying ass down there to figure out the portal machine. Now why cant we activate it?"
If the Forerunner construct could look annoyed, he would. "If it wasn't in my programming to not harm Reclaimers, I would have incinerated you. Never have I met someone so rude. To answer your question: the reason you cannot activate the Portal is because it seems you need a Keyship."
"Like the one Truth used to get to the Ark." Keyes mused.
"Precisely. Without the vessel to power the machine and provide the navigational data to point the Slipspace conduit to the proper location, it cannot be activated. This one is also apparently in need of an Index, and according to the computers within it, said Index is not the same as the ones used on the Installations. Another reason why this portal machine cannot be activated is because of the damage sustained from two back to back activations."
"So what you are saying is that we are stuck here?" Rtas asked.
The Monitor spun to face him and nodded. "I have however detected the presence of another Portal generator several hundred miles to the northwest on an island. Perhaps you can ask the locals if they have any information about it."
Johnson pulled out another one of his cigars and lit it, taking a deep pull and savoring the flavor of it. "Well? The Corps doesn't pay me by the hour. Lets get going."
Rtas nodded and keyed his mic. "Bring us down lower to the city and activate the gravity lift. We are going down to the planet surface." After a moment the large black circle on the deck was encased in a deep lavender beam of light, illuminating the bay with its glow. The group walked into the beam and were immediately lifted up, while Eragon stood outside it staring in wonder at this. He expanded his mind and tried to sense any magic about this... gravity lift, but he felt nothing. Saphira also walked up to the shimmering purple shaft of energy and gave it a sniff, snorting when she found nothing wrong with it.
Think we should get in? Eragon asked.
Saphira turned her head to him with a wolfish gleam in her eye. Lets try it!
The moment they stepped in, it lifted them up several feet above the deck and approximately on the same level as the others in the beam. Johnson looked over at Eragon and grinned. "Hey kid, I hope you haven't eaten anything recently."
Eragon turned to him with his eyebrows raised. "Why?"
Below them, the circle where the gravity lift went through irised open with a hiss of hydraulics, exposing the shaft that was the gravity lift and the ground far below the ship. Everyone around Eragon braced themselves, and before he could ask them what was going on, they began to descend.
Fast.
Eragon's shout of surprise was drowned out by the Saphira's roar of the same as they plunged from the belly of the ship, the air whistling by them in their rapid descent. Beside them, Johnson let loose a whoop of glee, thoroughly enjoying the drop from the bottom of the ship. The others remained silent, with Keyes closing her eyes and just wishing she had taken a Phantom or Pelican to the ground.
After a few seconds of accelerated free fall, the gravity lift began pulling up on them, slowing them down rapidly so that by the time they were close to the ground, they had slowed to a much safer speed, and they stepped off the pad... at least most of them did. Eragon had turned green from the sudden drop and was leaning against one of the projections coming up from the surface of the Gravity Lift pad, trying to keep the contents of his stomach from spilling out onto the ground. The last thing he needed was to humiliate himself in front of the visitors.
Rtas couldn't help but chuckle. "First time going down a Gravity Lift is always an interesting experience."
Eragon shook his head and groaned. Never again. Not even Saphira diving can compare to that.
Saphira turned to him and extended a scaly foreleg, which Eragon gratefully clambered up and into position in the saddle.
After a moment of recovery, everyone began moving through the battlefield towards the city. To say that the damage was phenomenal would be a gross understatement. No less than half of the guidance panels of the portal generator were destroyed, each massive plate of metal and stone bent or broken, leaving massive pits and canyons scattered around the mountain city. And everywhere there were Urgal corpses... or what used to be them. Plasma weaponry coupled with the explosives that the Pelicans were dropping meant that most of the Urgals were little more than charred gibs scattered all over the place, or, where a plasma mortar struck, tiny chunks of bone and horn half buried in solid pools of iron all surrounded by glass.
Closer to the city, hundreds of dwarves and men were hard at work cleaning up the mess that the meat grinder had created. A huge mountain of bodies several dozen feet high burned in a bid to try and get rid of the mess, while closer still mounds of debris were piled up, testament to the destruction wreaked on the city during the arrival of the group now approaching the shattered west gate.
As they approached, a small group of Dwarves intercepted them.
"What brings you to the city, strangers?" Their leader asked.
"We would like to speak with whatever leadership the Varden has," Keyes answered. "Could you possibly get us to him?"
"Get you to Ajihad yes, but whether he is willing to speak with you considering all that has been done so far, that is something else. Come, we will escort you there." The dwarf gestured for the group to follow him while at the same time he barked orders in dwarvish to the other dwarves, who formed up around the group and provided something of an honor guard.
While they walked, there were several cries of "HAIL SHADESLAYERS!" from the other inhabitants of the city. Rtas turned to Eragon and asked, "Shadeslayers?"
Eragon was about to ask him how he didn't know about Shades when he remembered Rtas wasn't in the battle, and instead answered, "Shadeslayer is a title given to anyone who successfully slays a Shade. Shades are tough creatures of magic, the product of a spirit summoning gone horribly wrong. They are strong, fast, can use magic, and the only way to take one down is to run it through with a sword or blade of some kind." Rtas 'ahh'ed at this. "Consequently, before you all showed up, only about half a dozen people have ever successfully slain a Shade and lived to tell the tale."
The Sangheili Shipmaster chose to remain silent at this, but the possible implications of it among the peoples of this world could come quite handy in the future, and made a mental note to ask the human Construct for further information.
After another ten minutes of walking through one of the massive corridors in the city, they came to the center of it all, and the site of Isidar Mithrim's remains. Massive fragments of the once beautiful gem were scattered everywhere, while smaller fragments were embedded in the walls and floor, testament to their velocity when the Star Rose shattered. Many dwarves were gathered in the area, mourning the loss of the gem as well as the damage done to the surrounding area, and more than a few of them glared at Saphira, only to receive a glare and a short growl in response.
They soon reached the bottom of Vol Turin, and at this Gazag whined. "Why we have to walk up long stairs?"
One of the dwarves turned to the Grunt, irritated. "Our elevator system, while strong enough to move plenty of supplies up to the upper levels of the city, aren't built to move that kind of weight," he said, motioning to the bulk of the Mgalekgolo pair as well as Saphira, who immediately growled. "For now, you will have to walk."
Ajihad had already gotten forewarning that the newcomers were seeking audience with him, and he had prepared himself accordingly, dressed in gilded ceremonial armor and with his sword attached to his belt. To his right stood Jörmundur, also in ceremonial armor but unarmed, and to his left stood Hrothgar, who instead of wearing armor decided to stay with his day to day clothes of office. His mighty war hammer, Volund, was behind him leaning against his seat. Arya sat to the dwarf king's left, choosing to represent the elves in this meeting. The Twins took their positions near the back of the office, ready to cast whatever spell needed in case the newcomers proved to be less than friendly.
He was also nervous. He was about to meet with the commanders of 2 large vessels hovering above the city who, by all rights, should have been slaughtered with the rest of the Varden, yet instead unleashed death in a way none of them were expecting, wiping out an entire army within minutes. And to top it all off, their warriors stood up to Shades and came away nearly unscathed. Someone skilled or powerful enough to stand up to one of those abominations with ease is something he definitely wanted on his side.
One of his guards leaned in and said, "They are here, m'lord. Shall we let them in?"
Ajihad nodded, and then steeled himself.
First to walk through the solid oak doors was a female human, about mid thirties by his guess, dressed in a uniform of some kind, and unarmed except for one of their strange weapons strapped to her hip. Behind her, a human clad in some form of armor entered. His helmet was off, and Ajihad could see that this one had dark skin, almost as dark as that of the tribes of the Haradrac. He was also more heavily armed, with several weapons strapped to his thighs and backplate.
What came next was completely unexpected. Several humanoids entered the room covered from head to foot in some manner of armor. 2 of them were of standard human height and wore armor that was bulkier than what the dark skinned person wore, but still slimmed down, and seemed to shimmer and fade at the edges. The others were giants, easily standing eight feet tall in their bulkier armor and moving far too fluidly to possibly be human. They too were armed, but stuck to small weapons and spherical devices that looked suspiciously like blast globes of a sort.
If the giants in armor were not shock enough, what stepped through the door next nearly had him drawing his sword. These creatures were as tall as the humans that had walked in before them, and that is where any similarities ended. For starters, they had 4 mandibles that served as a mouth or jaw of some sort, and glittering gold eyes that spoke of great experience. Their armor was different between the two, the former clad in brilliant silver armor and a somewhat ridiculous headpiece, whereas the latter was clad in a suit of armor that just screamed old, and covered every surface in some sort of engravings. Following behind them was a small creature clad in black armor that curled back upon itself, and a pair of titans wielding massive shields and some sort of weapon on their right arms.
The female, who appeared to be of some high rank, looked at him and asked, "Shall we get started then?"
He certainly was not expecting this.
After several minutes of introductions, those who could sat down in their seats while the remainder stood, hands clasped behind their backs and standing ramrod straight.
"So," Ajihad began. "How did you and the Sangheili get here?"
"For us, we were fleeing from the activation of a superweapon and our method of transportation malfunctioned, sending us here," Keyes explained. "The Sangheili, wishing to retrieve their Arbiter as well as any other survivors, re-opened the Portal from Earth, only for it to come here as well. I apologize if our arrival caused any casualties."
Hrothgar grunted. "There are but a few dead, both from your timely arrival and the battle, for which we can be thankful for, but the damage done to the city is another matter entirely. Fixing all of the damage done will take years of repair and replacement of cracked stone and materials, some of which are rare and hard to find."
Keyes raised an eyebrow. They could help with the location and mining of the required materials as long as they knew what stone they were looking for. "Well perhaps we can help with that at a later time." Hrothgar contemplated this before nodding.
"You said you were fleeing the activation of a superweapon. What weapon?" Ajihad needed to know about anything that threatened the Varden, and if it was something that these highly advanced people were fleeing from, then it must have been a powerful weapon or device indeed.
"Halo, a ten-thousand kilometer in diameter ringworld capable of wiping out all life within its considerable blast radius. And as for the cause of its activation we set it off to wipe out an enemy best left unmentioned." Several of the Spartans shifted uncomfortably at this while Johnson twitched at a memory that still haunted him. Eragon gaped, but kept his questions for himself.
The look on Ajihad's face said he wasn't quite buying it, but he let it drop and instead turned to the more pressing matter of what to do now.
"Now that you all are here, and the Mad King likely knows of the Varden's location, there is a decision that must be made as to what needs to be done now. Moving the entire army to Surda will take considerable time and effort, and will leave those taking the desert route vulnerable to slavers and bandits. If we stay here, Galbatorix will keep attacking until we are all dead and Eragon is in his clutches. And unless you have a better idea, I would recommend you all leave now in your vessels so the King doesn't get his hands on whatever technologies on them to strengthen his iron grip."
"If I may," Rtas began. "My vessel has room for many tens of thousand of troops, part of its purpose as an Assault Carrier. If you wish, I can transport your armed forces to this 'Surda' in as little as a day. As for getting attacked, there are precious few things that can easily get through an Assault Carrier's shielding, and none of them are currently here on this world."
"That is a very generous offer Shipmaster. I will bring it to the Council of Elders during our next meeting." Ajihad nodded his head in respect to the Shipmaster, and received a nod in return.
"Pardon me if I come off as a little bit rude, but why not just assassinate the king? I mean, he sounds like hes an asshole who needs his comeuppance, and a knife between the ribs or a well placed long range bowshot should take him down yes?" Johnson asked.
Ajihad just sighed. "If only it were so easy. Galbatorix is a former Dragon Rider, and an exceedingly powerful one at that. In a normal magic user, or even a Rider, to the best of my knowledge their magical prowess progresses to a limit and then stops growing. Contrary to that, we've seen the King's strength, both magical and military, grow year after year without limit. By now its highly likely that he has many powerful enchantments to prevent such an event from occurring. And waiting for him to die of old age is not an option either, as Dragon Riders are gifted with extreme longevity to the point of immortality apon becoming a Rider."
Fred crossed his arms as he processed this information. "So basically what you are saying is that you have the ultimate despot on your hands, and you are trying to take him down before he becomes too powerful."
Several nods from the assembled Varden leadership was his answer.
At that moment Trianna came in the room, earning her a glare from Ajihad. "Apologies, m'lord but we have discovered something you must see."
Several dwarves walked in, bearing the ravaged remains of a Kull, before unceremoniously dumping it in them middle of Ajihad's office. The stench from the 3 day old corpse was nearly overwhelming, and it was all the Varden leadership could do to keep from gagging on the smell. The newcomers however seemed immune.
"Apologies for the smell. The reason you are all looking at a dead Kull is because this is not a real Kull. Its a flesh golem, and a well crafted one at that. Uhh, does anyone here have a knife I could use?" Fred yanked one of his 18-inch combat knives from its sheath and handed the blade to Trianna. "Thank you. Now, how can one tell the difference between a real creature and one that is a flesh golem? Its simple really. You just cut them open and take a look." The knife flashed, and a deep cut was scored on the Kull's thick hide. When everyone looked, instead of seeing typical decaying flesh underneath, they instead saw smooth brown flesh, unchanging except where the fresh knife wound passed close to the hole burned by a plasma bolt 3 days earlier. "You can see here that the flesh remains unchanged throughout the creature, whereas if this was a real Kull the knife would have cut into muscle."
"What the hell?" Johnson's response to the apparent lack of internal anatomy that the flesh golem had was mirrored by everyone not native to Alagaesia.
Ajihad gestured for Trianna to continue. "It seems that the king, or one of his minions, have learned the forbidden arts of necromancy. To our guests, Necromancy is the magic of manipulating the dead, and sometimes the living as well. On several of the bodies it was discovered that necromantic magic was employed to create what is known as a flesh golem. Flesh golems are magical constructs copied from the original being, or in the case of the more powerful golem, constructed out of the flesh of another being or beings. In either case, the resulting creature needs no food or water, and feels little pain. Once created, they must fall under the control of either the creator or another magic wielder."
"Should the caster desire it, such a creature can become impossible to kill provided there is enough spilled flesh and blood around for it to cannibalize and regenerate. In a large battle, a small group of high quality flesh golems can wreak havoc apon a much larger force. However, such golems use considerably more energy to create than a lesser copy like what we have here." A motion from Trianna and the monster's corpse was hauled out of the room.
"How much energy does it take to make one of these constructs?" John asked.
Trianna frowned. "Creating a single copy uses relatively little energy, comparable to the amount needed to hurl a large boulder across Farthen Dûr, but an entire army would require vast reserves of energy. And if the horde we saw was anything to go by, Galbatorix has those reserves and much, much more."
"Whats the bottom line when it comes to these things?" John was already beginning to come up with ideas.
"Against a normal army, it would be slaughter."
Johnson turned to John. "Well Chief, I hope you like bloodbaths, because I am getting the feeling every time we get into a battle down here that's what its gonna be."
"Hey wait a minute I didn't say anything about letting you two go off and wreak havoc," Keyes said indignantly. "We didn't come here to wage another war."
"With all due respect, Commander, we need the supplies and whatever information this world has to offer, and even if we don't join in the carnage, Lord Badass over there," a hand gestured to the Arbiter. "And the Shipmaster will probably find some excuse to join in battle and rain destruction down on the King. If anything, it just might give us a way to get home. Hell for all we know Galbatorix has the Index."
Keyes sighed in frustration. She just wanted this whole thing to be over, not drop out of one war only to get caught up in another, one which she would be playing the role of the unstoppable juggernaut.
"Well, it seems I have little choice in the matter. We will help you in your war. However, it will come with its price."
"Name it, and I will do what I can," Ajihad replied.
"For starters, there is the food and water that we still need. We also need large amounts of raw titanium, iron, aluminum, and any other metals we may need so we can make repairs to our ship and construct atmosphere rated rounds for the Dawn's main weapon. We will also be needing access to the archives so we can bring ourselves up to date on the events in this world. If there is anything else I haven't thought of I will bring it forward at a later date."
"That is a steep price you ask us, Commander," Hrothgar growled. "What do you offer to us besides your assistance on the battlefield?"
"Not assistance. Complete and utter superiority over the land, sea and sky," John said. "Destruction of the enemy forces through any and all means we deem necessary, as well as capture or elimination of enemy commanders and spellcasters. With our spy satellites in place we can provide nonstop coverage on the opposing forces movements, strengths, weaknesses, and the location of all of their bases of operations. Should the need arise, we will deploy various weapons of mass destruction including but not limited to: a tactical nuclear strike, plasma, Energy Projector or MAC gun bombardment, deployment of the Scarab attack platform, or, in the worst case scenario, a complete glassing of the battlefield. On the supportive side, we can provide high quality medical care to anyone who gets wounded in a fight, far beyond anything you can muster up save for possibly the spellcasters. We can do tactial insertions either through the use of the Black Ops teams on the Intent, or through an orbital drop, allowing us to drop in and wreak havoc before the enemy has the time to acknowledge our presence and react to it. Our numbers are limited though. Even with the the Arbiter's forces as well as those aboard the Intent backing us, our numbers are only a few thousand at best. But in short, we give you the overwhelming advantage."
"If I may say so," Jörmundur muttered to Ajihad. "Its an offer we cant refuse. They are giving us possibly our only chance at dethroning the mad king, especially when he has potentially unlimited armies. The supplies that they ask for is a small price to pay for what they offer." The Varden commander nodded, but otherwise remained silent.
Without warning the entire room violently shook. "What the hell was that?" Johnson growled.
Immediately the group's radios flared to life as the Intent contacted them. "Shipmaster! Those dishonorable beasts are back, and they have blown a hole through the ground in the city! They are now moving through the city slaughtering everything in their path." The last part was practically dripping with rage.
The Arbiter let loose a roar of anger. "If they want another fight, they will have it!" The two Sangheili ran out of the room, followed by Gazag and the Mgalekgolo that had come into the room. Ajihad had a cold look about him. "I will not let another attack on this city and my forces go unpunished! Jörmundur! Ready our forces, and send for my servants and armor."
A thought suddenly clicked in John's head. "Where are the Twins?"
They had left a while ago without anyone ever noticing.
Ten minutes later they were all at the bottom of Vol Turin, once more armed to the teeth and waiting for the Urgals, and possibly the Twins to show their faces. Murtagh was there as well, hand and a half sword drawn and moving in complex patterns. He never had a chance to fight during the first attack, partially owing to the overwhelming devastation the UNSC unleashed. Along with them, several dozen dwarves and men, all clad in various types of armor and armed with everything from short swords to battle axes to polearms.
The Chief was busy running various combat tactics and options through his head, trying to shoehorn medieval and modern combat tactics together, without much success. Complicating matters was the fact several hundred civilians had gathered in the center of the city where they were, hoping that the near-invincible newcomers would provide protection from the fresh, albeit much smaller, horde of Urgals.
An idea came to him, one that would allow the Varden and dwarves their chance in combat while giving those with ranged weapons clear lines of sight at the horde, and he immediately began giving rapid fire orders for the Varden troops to form up in the halls, and for the UNSC/NC forces to climb up onto the walls. The resulting meat grinders would make short work of anything stupid enough to wander into them.
At first the Varden troops didn't acknowledge the order, but when Ajihad, decked out in gold-trimmed armor plate and armed with a sword showed up, they moved into position, polearms at the leading edge, normal soldiers behind.
The Varden commander looked at the imposing figure that was the Spartan. "I will admit it is a sound strategy you have come up with, Spartan."
The Spartan ignored the comment and immediately jumped into the heart of the problem. "I find it hard to believe that those Twins managed to slip out unnoticed by several seasoned soldiers and commanding officers, only for another attack to spring up the moment we finally notice it. Its very probable that they have betrayed you."
Ajihad blanched at this. "If you are right Spartan, then our hopes of taking down the King just fell quite a bit. They are fairly powerful magicians, and they are very clever when it comes to tricks and traps. To have them ally with the king is the last thing the Varden needs right now."
The Varden commander moved off to joins his troops, leaving the Spartan to mull what little he knew about the King over. His thoughts were cut short by the arrival of the rest of the Spartans, and he wasted no time in getting them into positions that played their strengths well.
Within moments the Spartans dispersed, several of the Spartan-IIIs steal thing ahead to lay mines and other nasty high explosive surprises before the new horde arrived. It wasn't long before the first charge, a Lotus Anti-Tank mine, detonated with thunderous force, cracking the nearby stone and pulverizing the Kull stupid enough to be nearby when it went off.
With a roar dozens of guns opened fire, spraying hypersonic uranium death and super hot plasma into the mass of bodies streaking down the corridor. Several dozen Kull were immediately cut down, and those that survived had a minefield to overwhelm. John was cautiously optimistic that the skirmish would be won with minimum allied casualties.
That optimism vanished when a fireball a foot across slammed into his shields and blew him backwards away from the troops. The shield indicator on his HUD had completely drained, but the protective field had done its job, leaving him with nothing more than a scorched chest plate.
"You will be a valuable prize to my master, Spartan." One of the Twins approached his downed form. "The King will have many uses for you after he breaks you to his will."
Several of the other Spartans noticed that one of their own was under attack, and shifted their fields of fire to the magician, only to find their rounds stopped with a bark of "Letta du bullts!" After ensuring the hail of metal wouldn't turn him into a leaky piece of meat, the traitorous Twin turned back to John, a leer all over his face.
A lance of pain stabbed at his mind, and John fought the urge to howl in agony as the magician began striking at his defenses. A number of emotions lashed through his mind, fear, some astonishment, but all were soon replaced by a rage so base it consumed his very being.
The Magician recoiled from the contact, not expecting that response to his attempt to hijack the Spartan's mind, and began preparing another fireball of which he would beat John down with. "Brsingr oro." A thin lance of twisting crimson flame lanced out from his palm, eager to cripple the Spartan for easier containment.
Deep in Spartan Time, John saw the burning lance of magic fly towards him, and knew that with his shields down the magic would eat through his armor and possibly kill him. That was one thing that wasn't acceptable.
It was at this point that something erupted within him, fueled by his rage, and, not knowing why he did it, John thrust his hand out, palm flat, directly between his body and the now supersonic streak of fire. A glowing green shield, perfectly smooth and translucent, erupted from his hand, and blocked the lance of fire.
This is our gift to you. Use it wisely.
The Twin's already pale visage turned bone white in fear, realizing that the green barrier was made of pure magic. John got up, feeling suddenly fatigued from the exertion from his unexpected stopping of the attack. Energy still raced through his body, eager for release, and as he stared down his opponent, the Spartan decided that a bullet would take too much time, not when he apparently could use magic. Pure energy began twisting its way around his right gauntlet, brilliant in its luminosity, and with but a twitch of his mind, the energy elongated, became a laser thin bolt, and blew the magician in half in a glorious spray of blood and viscera.
If the shield had been a drain on his physical energy reserves, the followup energy bolt drained them entirely. With a crash that was heard even over the din of the battle, Spartan-117 crashed to the ground unconscious.
Out on the battlefield, the other Twin howled in agony as the psychic connection he had with his other vanished in a flash of pain. Somehow, the newcomer had gained access to magic, and proceeded to use it to devastating effect. Damn it!
The death of his other became a secondary concern as Ajihad made his anger known. Urgals and Kull withered under the Varden leader's assault, coming straight for the traitor.
"I WILL HAVE YOUR HEAD YOU TRAITORIOUS SWINE!" Ajihad roared.
Instead of responding with words, the remaining Twin pulled a small ball of a dull gray metal out of his robes, and spoke a few words, and began laughing maniacally as it began glowing red, unable to contain the out of control reaction already taking place inside. Ajihad knew at that moment he was going to die, but instead of trying to uselessly scramble away, he surge forward and sheathed his sword in the gut of the other traitor.
"Guys, whatever that magician just did with that ball of metal I am detecting a massive surge in radiation from it. Get out of there now!"
The Spartans still fighting didn't need a second opinion, and as one they roared "FALL BACK!"
Eragon watched in fear as the Varden's forces fled the southern corridor, running away from the now brightly glowing ball that the slain Twin had dropped. "Eragon!" Cortana's voice shot through his helmet, causing him to jump. "I need you to collapse the roof between you and the ball NOW. Don't argue with me, just do it!"
Eragon immediately reached out with his magic into the stone of Tronjheim, seeking the fractures and weaknesses present in the rock, before expanding on them while simultaneously pulling on the now loosened boulders.
With a roar of falling rock, the roof of the southern corridor collapsed, blocking off access to it. A second later, the ball detonated.
CLIFFHANGER MUAHAHAHAHAHA! Sorry sorry this took so long as I've been procrastinating a bit, I ran into a writers block during the negotiations. Also, the votes are in, there WILL be a Scarab deployed during the battle (read:Bloodbath) of the Burning Plains. Guess who is gonna drive it? Come on, guess. The first person to guess right gets a cookie. And now that it will be deployed, the method of which it will be deployed is a glorious little secret of mine ;)
