The slightest noise would give away Roran's position. He gripped his hammer tightly, ready to ambush the Urgals that made camp ahead. The beasts had been attacking supply trains along Palancar Valley. After they had razed a third of Carvahall's outlying farms, Roran knew it was time to put diplomacy aside. He looked out of the brush he was hiding behind, surveying the Urgal's camp in the dark one last time.

He turned to his Captain of Carvahall's guard, Arryn. Her pitch black hair was matted to her forehead in a nervous sweat. Roran signaled her to begin the attack, and prepared himself to run forward. Arryn pressed a horn to her lips and blew hard. Roran's archers riddled the Urgal lookout and 45 soldiers streamed into the camp with Roran hot on their heels.

He dove on top of an Urgal who was too late in crawling out of its tent. The creatures desperately tried to shake off Roran and stop the onslaught, but could not. Roran drove the head of his hammer down onto the Urgal's head. He stood, spinning around to crack the skull of another Urgal with the same hammer. Before Roran could find another opponent, the battle had ended. It hadn't lasted more than a minute.

Catching the attention of Arryn, Roran began barking orders, "Sweep the camp. Take prisoners. Once we've cleared it out, burn the rest."

Arryn gave a still salute and began ordering her men around. Roran liked the woman, despite her unpopular promotion. She was strong, reliable, and had wits and intuition to match his. He watched her as she dragged off an Urgal prisoner.

Roran made his way to a nearby tree stump and lowered himself onto it. For the past three months, a horrid pain in his back had cursed him. He had asked his daughter Ismira to fix it, and she had agreed, but she had been in Surda for a number of months, and would be returning in the next few days. Calleach, his son, wasn't well versed in healing magic, and would be of no use. The pain was nearly unbearable at this point; the little fighting he had done today took nearly everything he had.

"Sir, are you okay?" Arryn walked over from a dispersing clump of soldiers.

"Fine; it's my back again. I can't wait until Ismira returns," Roran tried to rub the pain out of his lower back as he replied.

"Very good sir; we're clearing out the last of the tents now. We took four0 prisoners. We're nearly prepared to leave."

Roran stood from his stump, stretching his arms above his head, "Alright then; we should be on our way, we have guests tomorrow."

A battalion of men walked forward, through the streets of Uru'baen. At its head was a large man, his cuirass bulging around his stomach. The man's hardened features showed years of command and fighting. Lord Barst was quite the imposing figure. His men halted at an intersection, and readied their weapons. They charged down the field, pushing their way into the Varden's ranks. The screams of men as they lost limbs and died were haunting. Roran brought his hammer up under one man's chin, only to feel the cold steel of a blade on his neck…

Roran screamed as he was torn out of his dreams. He breathed heavily; almost panting. He had been having these nightmares ever since he left Carvahall; ever since he had to kill someone. Eragon and he had talked about it at length on more than one occasion, but that did nothing to push away the nightmares.

Roran looked over to the empty space on the other side of his bed. Katrina should have been there. She had died three years ago, during one of the harshest winters Roran had ever seen. Winters had only been getting worse since then; colder and colder every year, and fewer people had the food they needed.

Roran looked out the window, realizing it was nearly morning. The early winter sun was just appearing over the mountains surrounding Palancar Valley. Murtagh and his new apprentice would be here soon to help deal with the Urgals. It would be welcome assistance; the militia in Carvahall and Therinsford were not fit for a prolonged fight. Roran hoped this could be resolved without the loss of any more life; he didn't wish for any more bloodshed.

He bathed, dressed, and ate before heading to the gates of the town to meet Murtagh. It took a half hour of waiting to finally see the dragon appear in the sky. A small black dot appeared over the horizon, followed about a minute later by another. The dots in the sky grew exponentially as they approached the town. Soon enough they realized into their proper forms; dragons. Thorn was winging his way towards Carvahall with a much smaller dragon in tow.

A small crowd gathered around the gates as they saw the dragons approach. Roran's guards were among them, arranging themselves around him as if he were in the midst of battle. Arryn approached with her guards as well. Soon enough the crowd was nearly the whole of the town.

The two dragons grew larger and larger as they approached, eventually settling down softly a few down meters out of town. Thorn still caused quite the crash with his size. Thorn was much larger than Roran remembered; at least twice the size he had been before Uru'baen. The second dragon contrasted Thorn's blood-red scales with a set of brilliant white ones. The smaller dragon also had horns growing from its brow, something Roran hadn't even considered on a dragon before. The two Riders slid down the flanks of their dragons and began the walk over, the dragons following suit.

Roran extended his hand as Roran approached, "Welcome to my city, cousin," When Murtagh took his hand, Roran pulled him into a quick embrace.

"I'm glad to see past enmities are behind us," Murtagh said awkwardly.

"Indeed. Who is your new friend here?" Roran gestured to the young woman who had dropped from the white dragon.

The woman bowed her head, "I'm Riley; the newest Rider."

"That much seems apparent. It is a pleasure," Roran dropped the barriers around his mind as he turned towards the dragons, in case they wished to speak directly, "It is an honor, O dragons," he bowed deeply.

He felt the pressure of both of the dragons in his head, "It is our pleasure, Earl Roran of Carvahall. I am Thorn," Thorn had an oddly musical tone to his voice.

"And I am Thröviel," Thröviel's voice was nothing like Thorn's, it was harsh and gritty, "I have heard you were a powerful hunter in your youth .Stronghammer they called you, yes?"

"Yes. Roran Stronghammer; though my arm isn't quite what it used to be."

"I'd imagine being called a powerful hunter by a dragon is quite the honor," Roran said as he gestured for the party to follow. He dismissed his and Arryn's guards, as well as the crowd of civilians.

"It is indeed. Now, we should get down to business. Where can we talk privately?" Murtagh gestured to the civilians that were still milling about the gate.

Roran, with the help of Arryn and the nearby guards, managed to dismiss the crowd, and led the Riders to his house, magically protected from eavesdroppers by Calleach. To the dragons he gave directions to the dragonhold he had built near his keep, in case Eragon ever visited. They preferred to lounge behind the house.

They met in the largest room of the house. It held inside it a large table with a diorama of Palancar Valley. It had a number of figurines on it, detailing Urgal and Palancar Militia forces. Roran knocked an Urgal tent over near the road to the other city in Palancar Valley, Therinsford.

We staged a raid last night on a camp between here and Therinsford. The whole camp was wiped out, we took four prisoners. I'm afraid this is becoming more than a small border skirmish. Urgals are massing in camps around Carvahall. The road in is blocked, there are still two more camps left between here and Therinsford. Not to mention the three camps that circle the town that are as large as a whole company of soldiers." Roran motioned to various parts of the map as he spoke, though both Riley and Murtagh knew the geography.

"Why did you now ask for help sooner? This situation can't have cropped up overnight," Murtagh studied the map closely as he spoke.

"Ismira is in Surda and no one can use your damned mirror. Not for lack of trying, mind you. Calleach doesn't know the words."

"I'd be happy to teach him whenever I have the chance. I'd like to end this without any more bloodshed. Perhaps the Herndall will be able to hold these Urgals back. I will speak to Nar Grahzvog tonight, and depart to speak with the Herndall in person tomorrow."

"Wait, you're leaving? How do you expect us to get along without you?" Arryn spoke up from behind Roran.

"I'll stay behind and help with the defense. Thröviel could do a lot to help bulk up the walls around the city; they're rather thin," Riley spoke with a smile, trying to prevent the conversation from escalating.

Roran said, "Very well. Though, I doubt Urgals will be turned away by a young woman with a sword."

"A dragon will be a different story," said Arryn.

"Good. Show me to your mirror so I can contact Grahzvog. Afterwards, I would be interested in learning more about the town my mother lived in."

"Very well; Arryn, show Murtagh to the mirror. We'll give you the full tour of the town once you're finished with it."

Arryn and Murtagh shuffled out of the room, leaving behind Riley and the Earl. Roran studied the map intently, making minute changes to the pieces on the board as he consulted a list of movements from the night before. He muttered to himself under his breath. For the most part, Riley just let her eyes wander around the room, staying on no decoration in particular for too long. Three sets of Urgal horns were mounted on the one wall, a shield with swords crossed behind it on another.

It was minutes of awkward silence before one of them spoke, "How long has Murtagh been training you?" Roran didn't look up from his charts as he spoke.

"It's been a little over six months now since Thröviel hatched. We started training about a month after that," Riley continued to scan the room as she spoke, eyes darting to the Earl for only brief moments.

"Murtagh is a brilliant fighter, from what I remember. I can only assume he's taught you well."

"If by 'well' you mean he's beaten me to the other end of the Hadarac and back, then yes very well," Riley held something of a scowl on her face, though she did her best to hide it.

"Mmm. I didn't get the luxury of having a trainer. The best way to learn is from a real fight, where there are real stakes," Roran finally looked up from his map as he spoke, "And Murtagh has thirty or thirty five years of experience over you; I'd be amazed if you managed to defeat him."

Riley let out a small chuckle before the room fell back into silence. It remained that way until Murtagh returned to the room.

"Right then, I've consulted with Eragon and Nar Grahzvog. We'll be flying to Du Fells Flauga to retrieve two eggs as a gift for the Urgals. In the meantime, Grahzvog will attempt to convince the Herndall to call off the attacks while we get the eggs to them."

"I'll be going as well then?" Riley perked up at the mention of Eragon's mountain city.

"It's more than likely. For now though, you have the day. Thorn will call for you when it's time for tonight's sparring match," Murtagh waved Riley off, his attention drawn to the map in the center of the room; his face hard. Calculations were rushing through his brain, Roran was sure of it; he had often had that same look during many a battle.

"So what if we can't manage a diplomatic solution?" Roran asked hesitantly.

"How strong is your militia?" Murtagh said.

"Not strong enough. No more than a hundred men if we pull from every family. Less than half of them can fight another person, let alone an Urgal," Roran out both of his arms and all of his weight on the table, but it was too well made to break or sag in.

"Then we'll have to hope that we can scare off the whole lot of them with the dragons. Any proper army won't be able to reach us for at least three weeks, and that's without contending with the Urgals blocking the path from here to Therinsford."

"I have an uneasy feeling that we might need to settle in for a siege." Roran stared intensely at the largest Urgal camp placed on the map.

"You do what you believe needs to be done, Thorn and I need to rest after a two day flight," with that, Murtagh walked out of the room, leaving Roran alone with his map and his thoughts.