~0~

"Raia, I take it that your lady has a plan for you to follow?"

"She has. She has accounted for me possibly surviving, in which case she will review the abomination's skills herself. And adapt to kill him."

"You would waste your life for her? For this rider? He is just one human. Incapacitate him and be done with it."

"I do not plan on dying when facing him, Durza. I plan to cause him untold misery as I haunt him for the rest of his life. But if it takes my life when doing so, so be it."

~0~

The Spartan looked at his companion while he worked with the rock, trying to get the thing to rise higher in the air with more velocity. He had been practicing with the rock for three hours, trying to get it to do the most impossible things in order for him to learn more about magic. Due to the addition of magical energy manipulation in his arsenal, he had a thousand new ways to change and adept his tactics. But the only words of power –by which the entire magical world seemed to work- that he knew off, were 'stone', 'rise' and 'path'.

Not only that, but he had found that channeling his energy was harder than he had imagined it to be. Lifting a rock was one thing, but sending it plummeting through a stone wall at speeds equal to a bullet was a completely different thing. That only tired him out and it didn't even work–the damn thing lodged itself into the wall and stayed stuck there at least half of the time, while it wouldn't even accelerate properly the other half of the time.

So much for improvised weaponry. He had briefly escaped having to waste ammo on ranged targets, only to run into a completely new problem with his solution. He could by no means fight properly without understanding more of this magic; flinging stones into the dark tunnel-system below when there was nobody looking would only get him so far.

If he wanted something dead, he could conjure up a spell to slit a throat, pinch of a major artery or even destroy local ganglia in someone's brain. But to do that, he needed the words that described such a thing. Had there been a word of power that translated to 'nerve' he could probably lay waste to an entire enemy army, but he had no such words.

He only had a rock.

And even with the words, he might possibly kill himself of exertion if he wasn't careful. To perform magic, one needed the same amount of energy that a mundane way would take. So he couldn't use magic to stop bullets, as he couldn't stop bullets with his bare hands. The kinetic energy of such a projectile needed to be less than the energy he possessed and if he started experimenting, he couldn't afford a single slip-up.

It was a tricky thing, magic. He would be better off forging bullets or something like that. Either way, he needed to train more. And seeing as he had plenty of time for training, he shouldn't worry about that too much.

The Spartan pried another rock out of the floor and thought of a way to use it as a weapon. If he found a way to completely overheat it, it could explode with the force of a fragmentation grenade. But heating a stone to the point of exploding took too much meat…too much energy. If there was a way of making something explode without it killing him, he would take it. But at the moment, he was out of ideas.

Aeraleth was sleeping. It had been a very exhausting day for the dragoness and the super-soldier did not want to disturb her. Instead, the Spartan decided to scout the city-mountain of Tronjheim some more. He needed answers, and a lot of them.

But each and every person he would encounter in the mountain was a potential hostile…and he held no desire to have more interaction than he needed to.

On the other hand, ten days of pure marching with barely any combat wasn't exactly the best way to stay sharp. He had fought a group of human soldiers, urgal soldiers and then almost dwarven soldiers. That wasn't the best way to pass ten days' worth of time.

He made up his mind and traveled down the oversized watchtower, heading out to leave the city-mountain and scout the surrounding area. If he was lucky, he would find his way to Ajihad again and finally receive some answers to his many questions.

But as the soldier exited the tower, he heard footsteps slowly approaching his position. Thinking that someone was about to attack him, he stepped backwards into the shadows that were casted through the dark tunnel and pulled out his sidearm. He had left his two SMG's with Aeraleth, but he hadn't actually thought that anyone would find them there. Could this just be another dwarf, wandering about?

The Spartan watched the tunnel as the footsteps grew louder and louder, until he actually made visual contact with whoever was approaching him.

It was a girl; one with the same, dark skin as Ajihad had. She was wearing a fine, yet simple dress and she carried herself with such a demeanor that indicated that she wasn't a normal citizen. She possessed a certain confidence in herself…an understanding of her own worth, as it were.

In short, she exuded an aura of command. This could only be a daughter of Ajihad's.

He watched the female walk towards the watchtower, before she looked up at the very top of the tower and sighed.

But when she continued to walk to the one secure place that Aeraleth could rest, he took action. He had had plenty of bad experiences with should-be-civilians turning out to be terrorists in his low-profile operations and even a simple-looking civilian could be out to murder him. He wouldn't take any chances. Not again.

The Spartan stepped out of the shadows and walked over to the girl, overtaking her pitiful walking speed with ease. His footsteps did not echo in the tunnel and he made no noise as he approached the dark-skinned girl.

"Ehm…hello?" The girl softly spoke and hesitantly looked at the entry of the tower, expecting someone to hear her from the front.

He eyed the dress very carefully, didn't spot any electronics or other things that might be hidden underneath it. She had a small knife hidden near her leg, but that wasn't a threat. If her intention was to hurt him, he would find out soon enough.

"Who are you?" He demanded loudly.

The girl gasped and turned around, her hand flying to a small dagger that was attached to her leg. Then she spotted him, standing two feet away from her. Her eyes widened and he saw her clenching her fists.

But the girl didn't scream, yelp or fall to the ground. She merely backed away a few steps and then straightened her back, steeling her resolve to do…whatever it was that she wanted to do. "I am Nasuada," she carefully explained, "and I do not mean harm. Are you rider…Spartan?"

So she knew who he was. How had she known where to find him?

"What do you want?" He asked.

Her eyes sprang from the black knife in his hand to his visor, before she indulged herself in a quick glance at the other parts of his suit. Finally, her gaze settled on his visor. "My father, Ajihad, sent me here with a message. Do you wish to hear it?"

Probably not. But he needed to hear it anyways. "What does he want?"

She frowned and then threw her long, black hair over her shoulder. "He wants you to know that you are required to be put through a test, for him to determine your abilities-"

"Denied. What else?" He interrupted her.

Nasuada closed her mouth, tensed the muscles in her neck and shoulders and then forced herself to calm down again. He had struck a sensitive nerve there. "My father is deserving of more respect than that. You would be wise to remember his position. Furthermore, the twins have filed a complaint on you. They claim you have shown…unnecessary violence, ill feelings and a lacking desire to learn. They were furious, you know?"

He had figured as much when they had threatened him.. "Respect is earned, not given."

"That may be, but even though you are a rider, you are still a guest here. And your story has been…questionable at best."

"All humans are guests here," He retorted, remembering how the Varden had been allowed to use Tronjheim only because the king, Hrothgar, had allowed it. "Why should I care about the twins?"

"But is it true?" Nasuada urged him. She was a very strange girl, either courageous or foolish. Or perhaps, a little bit of both. "Did you harm the twins?"

"They attempted to blackmail, threaten and subsequently attack me," He replied.

Much to his surprise, the girl smiled. It was a brief and small gesture, but it was visible nonetheless. "I see. Their attitude has been problematic to many, but few have had the courage or skill to stand up against them. Can I ask you some questions on behalf of my father, rider Spartan?"

'Who is this?' The sleepy, grumpy voice of Aeraleth spoke in his mind. 'Must I scare her away?'

'She is the daughter of Ajihad. And not afraid of me,' He replied, feeling a bit puzzled.

'Ajihad's cub? Curious. Are you sulking because someone does not fear you? Or perhaps happy because a fellow human shows interest in you?'

'Neither. She wants to ask questions.'

'So let her.'

Aeraleth wanted him to converse with the woman? Fine, it was her judgment.

And her tail on the line.

"What do you want to know?" He gave in, feeling frustrated that he simply couldn't continue on by himself. He could march into the capital, shoot Galbatorix in the head and be done with it in a single day.

Nasuada smiled. "What is the name of your dragon?"

She was starting of carefully to get to the bottom of his origin. Very well; he would play along. "Aeraleth."

"That is a beautiful name."

"I didn't pick it."

"How did you get Aeraleth's egg? I thought that the king only had two remaining eggs, which he had kept under the most extreme security."

He needed to be careful there; he had been told that it was the best for everyone's sake that he didn't reveal anything about himself. "I caught the guardians by surprise."

He had caught Nasuada by surprise too, judging by her expression and next remark. "You found a way into Uru'baen? How did you do that?"

Well, there he had it. Driven in a corner. "Aerial assault."

"The cliff above the city? How did you survive the fall?"

"My armour."

She raised her eyebrows. "I have the feeling you aren't being sincere with me. Am I correct?"

She was a sharp one. She was completely wrong, but still. "Any and all information regarding me and my activities is classified on a need-to-know basis."

"What does that mean?"

"It means," He replied sharply, "none of your business. Anything else?"

In the eyes of the Spartan, the girl's angry frown was quite similar to that of her father. Actually, now that he came to think of it, she resembled her father in more ways than one. Even though she couldn't be much older than him, there was the air of command, clever way of gathering information and the sharpness with which she realized that he wasn't going to tell her the truth.

'Maine!' His dragon called out in his mind, sounding quite angry. 'Act civil against her! Nasuada is right, we are guests here and these people can help us in more ways than one. She knows of the enemies a rider can have here and she can be a good ally.'

He exhaled softly. Why? Of all times for Aeraleth to have woken up?

Trying to repair the damage that he might have done, he kept the conversation going. "You wouldn't understand my past."

"Try me," She replied and crossed her arms, looking like she was going to be very stubborn.

"I came from the stars."

Again, he caught her by surprise. She raised her eyebrows and her shoulders slumped, as if she had just heard the most ridiculous statement ever.

Which was probably the case. "Do you take us for fools, Spartan? Nothing comes from the stars. Only the gods can touch the air that the dragons cannot." She angrily told him.

"I told you that you wouldn't understand."

That ticked her off again. "Then explain it to me rider. Your statement about the stars is vague at best! Do you mean a metaphorical star? Or a place that your people refer to as such?"

She obviously wanted to understand. But her father had been hostile for a few seconds when he had heard about the whole stars thing. Was there something that Ajihad knew, but his daughter didn't?

Maine decided that he had to share a bit more. "My people live on a dozen worlds, spread across the stars. We have built ships than can travel a long way. My ship took fire above…Uru'baen…and I jumped out."

"You possess ships that can travel across worlds?" Nasuada asked him, the skepticism in her voice slowly making way for awe. "Are you an elf that you can do such things?"

"No."

"But you are bonded to a dragon. Only humans and elves can be bonded to dragons."

"I'm a Spartan."

"But…wasn't that your name?" His remarks only puzzled the dark-skinned girl. Eventually, she gave in and stopped asking him those questions altogether.

"Is there anything we can do to make your stay…more pleasant?" She then asked him with a rather forced tone, probably finishing her business with him.

"No-" He started, but Aeraleth beat him to it.

'Tell her that I am grateful for the things that the Varden and dwarves have offered us and that I would like to meet up with Saphira again.'

'Seriously?' He countered. 'You want to talk to the dragon?'

'Why? Do you not wish to talk to the other rider? Ah, never mind. It is you, after all.'

´What´s that supposed to mean?'

'Nothing. Relay my message and I shall join you, yes?'

"Aeraleth says thanks."

'And?'

"And she wants to meet the dragon again."

"Saphira?" Nasuada asked. "I see. I shall bring them the message. Anything for you?"

He could use some practice…that test that Ajihad had set out for him had to be a test of physical prowess alone, as they could not know how fast he could adapt to the use of magic. It would most likely involve him running some obstacle course, performing feats of prowess and speed in the process. But he had to be sure. "What test?" He asked.

"Excuse me?" Nasuada replied.

"You said 'test'. How does Ajihad want to test me?" He clarified.

"Ah. My father wishes to know the extent of your powers too. I cannot allow any details to slip, but rest assured. You won't be in any danger."

She was right on that one; he wasn't in any danger. But Aeraleth didn't possess the durability of his armour and if anything went wrong, she would be the one with swords and arrows sticking out of her.

"I'll think about it," He replied.

"Don't think about it too long, my father wishes to see what you can do before the urgals approach the gate."

So Ajihad had paid heed to his warning? The man knew how to lead, that was certain.

And with that last sentence, Nasuada chose to depart. Which was a good thing to him, as he had no desire to keep on talking. He had reached his quota on interaction with people and had the conversation lasted any longer, he wouldn't have been able to keep civil anymore.

'Aeraleth?'

'Yes ,little Spartan?'

'I won't be taking that test.'

'I had suspected as much. How much longer do you wish to defy the wishes of those that seek to aid you?'

'Until I have determined whether Ajihad can also be a commanding officer. Not mine, but to his soldiers.'

'And in the meantime?'

'I want to try something with my knife, a bullet and a rock. I have a few ideas.'

'Need I remind you that my wings can not resist arrows, much less your violent weaponry?'

'Negative.'

~0~

Approximately seven hours later, dragonhold.

Saphira woke Eragon with a sharp nod of her snout, bruising him with her hard jaw.

"Ouch!" He exclaimed and sat upright. The cave was dark, except for a taint glow emanating from the lantern. Outside in the dragonhold, the dwarves' Isidar Mithrim, the star rose, glittered with a hundred different colours.

And an agitated dwarf was illuminated by that light, standing in the entrance to the cave while wringing his hands.

"You must come Argetlam! Great trouble –Ajihad summons you. There is no time!"

"What's wrong?" Eragon asked.

The dwarf only shook his head, his beard flapping around while he did. "Go, you must! Carkna bragha! Now!"

Eragon belted on his sword, Zar'roc, before reaching for his bow and arrows and climbing onto Saphira's seat.

'So much for a good night´s sleep,´ She groused, crouching low to the floor so that he could climb onto her back.

Orik was waiting for them at Tronjheim's gates, with a very grim expression on his face.

"Come, the others are waiting," Orik told him and let him through the city-mountain to Ajihad's study. Along the way. Eragon pelted him with questions about the urgency of the situation, but the dwarf only replied with "I don't know myself, Ajihad will tell more" and left it at that.

The large study-door was opened by a pair of large guards, revealing the interior of the room. Ajihad was standing behind his desk, bleakly inspecting a map. Arya and a man with thick arms were there as well. The other rider was nowhere to be seen –for which Eragon was silently grateful.

Ajihad looked up. "Good, you're here Eragon. Meet Jörmundur, my second in command.

They acknowledged each other, then turned their attention to Ajihad.

"I roused the five of you because we are all in great danger. We must only wait for one more person before I can start to explain."

Eragon tried to meet Arya's gaze, but the elf only held attention for the large door from where the latecomer would arrive. Was it just him, or did Arya look nervous? She had her hand on the pommel of her sword and her muscles were tensed. Was she still as disturbed by the other rider as Saphira was?

After thirty seconds of awkward silence, during which Ajihad and Jörmundur continued to stare at the map, the door opened.

Everyone instantly tensed up even more and reached for weapons, but the only person who was standing in the frame of the door was the armoured rider. He was armed with his black devices like always and he looked ready for trouble.

Not that Eragon had seen him NOT ready for trouble.

Arya frowned, but Ajihad seemed strangely relieved.

"Good, you are here."

"Rather slow!" The second-in-command remarked.

The rider stepped inside of the room and his strange, jeweled helmet turned towards Jörmundur.

"Blame the messenger. What's the situation?"

The sheer professionalism with which the rider handled an apparent crisis was oddly unsettling. Eragon reminded himself that this person could not be much older than he was, but the difference between the two of them was very obvious. He needed to do better.

"We are all in grave danger," Ajihad then said. "About half an hour ago, a dwarf ran out of an abandoned tunnel under Tronjheim. He was bleeding and nearly incoherent, but he had enough sense left to tell the dwarves what was pursuing him: an army of urgals, maybe a day's march from here."

Silence filled the room after that last sentence, but it did not remain like that for long. Jörmundur swore explosively after a few moments had passed and began asking questions at the same time Orik did. Arya remained silent and the rider stepped forward to look at the map, his footsteps putting more strain on the floor than Eragon had expected from a man-sized person. Was that armour so heavy?

Ajihad raised his hands. "Quiet! There is more. The urgals aren't approaching over land, but under it. They're in the tunnels…we're going to be attacked from below."

"You didn't prepare for that?" The other rider asked, which only caused more ruckus in the room. Jörmundur delivered some retort, Arya crossed her arms and Orik asked more questions.

Eragon raised his voice. "Why didn't the dwarves know about this sooner? How did the urgals find the tunnels?"

"We're lucky to know about it this early!" Orik bellowed. Everyone stopped talking to hear him. "There are hundreds of tunnels throughout the Beor Mountains, uninhabited since the day they were mined. The only dwarves who go in them are eccentrics who don't want contact with anyone. We could have just as easily received no warning at all!"

"That's why you appoint scouts to guard your HQ," The rider dryly remarked.

Orik yelled something back while Ajihad pointed to the map, and Eragon move closer. The map depicted the southern half of Alagaesia, but unlike his it showed the entire Beor Mountain range in detail. Ajihad's finger was on the section of the Beor Mountains that touched Surda's eastern border. "This," He said, "is where the dwarf claimed to have come from."

"Orthiad!" Orik exclaimed. At Jörmundur's puzzled look, he explained: "It's an ancient dwelling of ours, that was deserted when Tronjheim was completed. During its time it was the greatest of our, but no one's lived there for centuries.

"And it's old enough for some of the tunnels to have collapsed," Ajihad mused. "That's we surmise it was discovered from the surface. I suspect that Orthiad is now being called Ithrö Zhada. That's where the urgal column that was chasing Eragon and Saphira was supposed to go…and that's where the urgals have been migrating to all year.

"I spotted several hundred of them in a valley a few days back," The armoured rider replied. "And I warned you of them. Why didn't you take measures?"

Eragon wondered why this rider sounded so hostile to the Varden's leader. Saphira was probably speaking to his dragon as Ajihad spoke, so he would figure out something soon enough.

"There are hundreds of tunnels down there, did you expect us to guard every single one of them?" Orik bellowed loudly.

"I do not command the dwarves. We simply did not expect the urgals to approach us from underground, just like Uru'baen did not expect you to approach it from the sky."

The room fell silent again as Ajihad made that puzzling remark. Had this rider infiltrated the capital city from the sky? How? And how had he survived landing? With magic?

"From Ithrö Zhada, the urgals can go anywhere underneath the Beor Mountains. They have the capacity to destroy the Varden and the dwarves."

Jörmundur bent over the map, eyeing it carefully. "Do you know how many urgals there are? Are Galbatorix' troops with them? We can't plan a defense without knowing how large their army is."

Ajihad wasn't very happy. "We're unsure about both of those," he replied. "Yet our survival rests on that last question. If Galbatorix has augmented the urgals' tanks with his own men, we don't stand chance. But if he hasn't –because he wouldn't want his alliance with them to be revealed- its possible we might win."

"Soldiers or not, we'll still win," The rider sharply stated.

"Don't overestimate us, child!" Jörmundur replied angrily. "The Varden is in a terrible position!"

Ajihad interfered again. "Neither Orrin nor the elves can help us at this late hour. Even so, I sent runners to both of them with the news of our plight. At the very least, they won't be caught by surprise if we fall."

He drew a hand across his coal-black brow. "I've already decided on a course of action. Our only hope is to contain the urgals in thee of the large tunnels and channel them into Farthen Dûr so that they don't swarm inside Tronjheim like locusts."

"That won't work," The rider then stated, which caused the entire room to fall into silence. Again.

Nobody had expected him to directly insult something decided upon by Ajihad himself.

"You will take those words back! I won't stand idly by while you insult our leader!" Jörmundur replied, stepping closer to the rider as if to threaten him with his appearance alone.

"I agree! Come back with a dozen years of combat experience and then you can comment on the Varden's tactics" Orik shouted.

Eragon spotted Arya's face relaxing a bit. Was she calm because the black rider was being shouted at? Or had she thought the plan to be faulty too?

"Expect superior numbers. Forcing them in the open where they can establish a secure foothold is suicide for your troops. Catch them in a bottle-neck and that advantage will disappear, allowing for a quick and decisive victory."

His words were dazzling to Eragon, yet he knew that there had to be a truth contained in them, as both Ajihad and Jörmundur seemed to overthink his statement.

"I see," Ajihad then stated. "An adaptation among our tactics might be to our advantage. I need you, Eragon, Arya and Spartan, to help the dwarves collapse extraneous tunnels. The job is too big for normal means. Two groups of dwarves are already working on it: one outside Tronjheim and the other beneath it. Eragon, you and Spartan are to work with the group outside. Arya, you'll be with the one underground. Orik will guide you to them."

"Why not collapse all the tunnels instead of leaving the large ones untouched?" Eragon asked.

"Because," Orik said, "that would force the urgals to clear away the rubble and they might decide to go in a direction we don't want them , if we cut ourselves off, they could attack other dwarf cities –which we wouldn't be able to assist in time."

"There's also another reason," Ajihad added. "Hrothgar warned me that Tronjheim sits on such a dense network of tunnels that if too many are weakened, sections of the city will sink into the ground under their own weight. We can't risk that."

"So there won't be any fighting inside Tronjheim? You said the urgals would be channeled outside the city, into Farthen Dûr." Jörmundur stated.

Ajihad was quick to respond. "That's right. We can't defend Tronjheim's entire perimeter –it's too big for our forces. We're going to seal all the passageways and gates leading into it. That will force the urgals out onto the flats surrounding Tronjheim, where there's plenty of maneuvering room for our armies. Since the urgals have access to the tunnels, we cannot risk an extended battle. As long as they are here, we will be in constant danger of them quarrying up through Tronjheim's floor. If that happens, we'll be trapped. Attacked from both the outside and the inside. We have to prevent the urgals from taking Tronjheim. If they take it, it's doubtful we will have the strength to roust them."

Jörmundur was silent for a few seconds, before grudgingly adding: "The rider is right. If we can prevent the urgals from getting out of the tunnels, they will be easier to contain. But what of our families? I won't see my wife and son murdered by urgals."

The lines deepened on Ajihad's face. "All the women and children are being evacuated into the surrounding valleys. If we are defeated, they have guides who will take them to Surda. That's all I can do, under the circumstances."

The second-in-command struggled to contain his surprise. "Sir, is Nasuada going too?"

"She is not pleased, but yes." All eyes –and gemlike masks- were focused on Ajihad as he squared his shoulders and announced, "The urgals will arrive in a matter of hours. We know their numbers must be great, but we must hold Farthen Dûr. Failure will mean the dwarves' downfall, death to the Varden and eventual defeat for Surda and the elves. This is one battle we cannot lose. Now go and complete your tasks. Jörmundur! Ready the men to fight."

Most of them then left the study and scattered: Jörmundur to the barracks, Orik and Arya to the stairs leading underground and Eragon and Saphira heading down one of Tronjheim's main halls. But the rider named 'Spartan' stayed behind and walked up to Ajihad, pointing at the map and saying something so soft that Eragon could not hear it.

'Come little one, we have work to do,' Saphira told him and he tore his gaze off of the armoured figure.

He had killed urgals before, but the thought of the coming battle filled his stomach with dread. He knew that the fight would be important, but on such a large-scaled battlefield anything could happen. It would be a complete war…and even though the urgals were his enemies, he still didn't know if he could stomach the slaughter that was likely to come.

~0~

Four hours later, on the fields outside Farthen Dûr.

For several hours straight, the Spartan had used his newly acquired magical abilities to collapse all the entries into the city-mountain of Tronjheim. He had found that it was possible for Aeraleth to grant him additional energy when needed, which would be very handy in the coming fight. In having learned the new magical word 'Thrysta', which meant push, the two of them had collapsed over a dozen tunnels together in the span of two hours, after which the Spartan had moved on to the three major tunnels where the urgals would be coming from.

But now, all that remained was waiting for the battle to commence. Which was a grievous abuse of time, as he could easily dart into the tunnels to perform hit-and-run tactics on the enemy armies.

'This will be our second fight against the urgals,' Aeraleth told him as she rested beside him. 'I long to tear my foes apart with my teeth and talons, but I am also worried.'

'For what?' He asked. The mass evacuation of noncombatants was streaming out of Tronjheim, with a small group of warriors sent to escort them/ But most of the activity was at the base of the city-mountain, where the army of the Varden was being divided into three battalions. Most of the men were already waiting for the signal to be given, armed with simple plating and spears and swords. Eragon and his dragon were sitting between the second and first battalion, a small group of dwarves was heading out to meet them.

'For you. The last time you faced those grey-skinned walkers, you nearly severed the bond between us just to block me out. And then the only thing that was left was an aggression rivalled only by the wildest of dragons.'

The Spartan nodded, remembering the battle where he had lost control over himself. His aggressive tendencies were slowly becoming obvious and there was pretty much nothing he could do to block them out. Emotions, pain and pain alike could be banished from his mind without a second thought. But that…animalistic need to kill would take control over him.

He needed to work harder. He couldn't allow himself to slip and harm allies during the fight. 'I'll make sure that there won't be anyone friendly around.'

Aeraleth hummed with pleasure as she watched a few dwarves approach her as well, holding a large plate of dried meat. 'I will make sure that I am around you.'

He watched as the dwarves near Eragon revealed a large bundle of yellow-orange armour to the boy. The armour was too large and complicated to be for a human, so it had to be meant for the dragon.

'Have you talked to Eragon yet?' Aeraleth asked him.

'Negative.' Maine had been working near the kid the whole time, but he had felt zero need to initiate contact with him. He had watched Aeraleth and the blue dragon –Saphira- work together on several occasions, but such things were below him.

Or well above him. Whatever.

After a few minutes, during which Eragon and Saphira were getting armoured and the men had readied themselves, the three divisions of soldier started to march.

Closing in on one of the collapsed tunnels, the Spartan noticed that the entrance had been decorated with lanterns, trenches and sharpened stakes. The rubble inside of the tunnel had been positioned that it would be easy for soldiers to climb out, for some reason.

He frowned when he saw the sloppy work. There were a dozen ways that could be employed to kill the urgals; collapsing the tunnels on top the humanoids, for example.

While he and Aeraleth watched the men stream towards the battlefield, he spotted a man and a horse approaching Eragon while Ajihad lagged behind. The dark-skinned man wore a breastplate and a pale sword, but not much more.

'If Ajihad is going to fight on the frontlines, I will personally drag him away,' He told Aeraleth.

'Why? Have your grown attached to him?'

'If he dies, the army will be thrown in disarray. Commanders don't fight at the front.'

'What does that matter? He is a warrior and he should be fighting amongst his men.'

'Negative,' He replied and started to explain. 'The commanding officer is the one who leads the troops Soldiers follow orders, he issues them. Without him to oversee the battle, morale will fall and soldiers will desert.'

'To stay behind and watch is the coward's way!'

'Aeraleth,' He sternly said, 'a victory is a victory. A leader leads, but if he dies nobody can replace him. His survival is critical.'

'I don't think he would appreciate that.'

'I don't care.'

The sun was slowly rising again and light was filling the giant mountain, illuminating Tronjheim and visibly increasing the morale of the soldiers around him.

Inexperienced rooks, all of them.

Ajihad gestured for him to join him near Eragon and he grudgingly moved towards the group. While Eragon moved over to Arya, who was sitting ten meters away from him and Orik, Saphira stayed behind and eyed Aeraleth.

"Spartan," Ajihad greeted him. "I see that you are not yet armed. Which weapon do you prefer?"

Curious. Maine could have sworn that he had been standing with his rifle in his arms for over thirty minutes at that point. "My guns."

The leader of the Varden eyed him carefully and decided to let the issue rest. "I don't know how to command you-"

"Don't," He told the man. That was one misconception he could not allow; nobody was his superior except for the late captain Wren. "I don't take orders from you."

'Watch it,' Aeraleth carefully told him.

Ajihad frowned and crossed his arms –no easy thing to do with his chestplate. "So you think yourself experienced enough to fight an entire battle without anyone telling you what to do and who to target? Have you forgotten your age and standing, rider?"

"I know what to do."

Ajihad continued to stare at him, but yielded before long. "This shade you have talked about…she will be accompanying Durza. Do you think yourself strong enough to face both of them at the same time? Magic, mind and body?"

"Yes."

Then the man nodded, perhaps understanding. "Very well. You have carried yourself with a skilled warrior's stride ever since I have laid eyes on you. I do not know how skilled you are, but I know that you hold more experience than most of the soldiers here. Keep a close eye on Eragon…" He lowered his voice, "…and on Arya. We can't lose either of them. She is the ambassador to the elves and he is, no insult meant, the hope of our people. I don't possess your loyalty or trust, but I do his. As such, I entrust our future to him and not to you. But I entrust him to you."

He nodded, respecting Ajihad for his insight in his situation. "Copy that."

"Good luck." And with that, the Varden's leader left.

'Did you hear that?' He asked Aeraleth, but the black dragon was already accompanying Saphira back to Eragon and Arya.

Great. Now he had to join her, pick her up and leave again. All while under the constant sight of the elf. Her appearance was unsettling enough, but there was a certain alien quality about her.

He disliked that.

The Spartan marched towards the part of the encampment where the representatives of the four different species were standing and underwent at least a dozen scenarios in his mind while he did so.

The blue dragon growled threateningly when he approached and both Eragon and Orik quickly spun around, realizing that he was advancing towards them.

And Arya's gaze never left him. The girl probably hated him.

"Spartan," The dwarf tried to be friendly to him, but his eyes were very distrusting towards him. "We only had one suit of dragon armour, I am afraid. Your dragon will have to go without."

"She won't need it," He replied and stopped near the circle of racial members, measuring the exact distance he wanted to keep from them at all costs.

"You think yourself capable enough to guard her against an army of urgals?" Arya asked.

But he shouldn't be the one to judge her on that.

"Yes," He replied, causing the frown on the elf's face to grow even larger. Her voice still sounded weird to him. She was as alien to him as he was most likely to be to her.

'Now Maine, do not be overconfident of yourself. It has been the demise of many a great hunter in the past,' Aeraleth saw fit to lecture him.

Eragon turned towards Arya and softly continued their civilian conversation. "It's too dangerous."

Arya was not amused by that remark. "Do not pamper me, human-"

-She looked more like a human than many an enemy he had fought-

"-elves train both their men and women to fight. I am not one of your helpless females to run away whenever there is danger."

She should see Helia-009.

"I was given the task of protecting Saphira's egg…which I failed. My breaol is dishonored would be further shamed if I did not guard you and Saphira on this field."

Wasn't that his responsibility? And what was a breaol?

Arya continued her little speech. "You forget that I am stronger with magic than any here, including you and him. If the shade comes, who can defeat him but me? And who else has the right?"

The Spartan eyed the elf closely. Her eyes were serious, yet betrayed a little bit too hard that she was trying to withhold her emotions. Her stoic demeanor was a near-perfect mirror of his, yet less refined and less thorough. She tried so hard to block something out, but she failed to filter that out.

"Shades," He corrected her.

"There are more of those things?" Eragon exclaimed, hearing him use the plural version.

Arya wasn't too happy about his remark herself. "You encountered one too?

Saphira edged away from their group and Aeraleth separated too; both dragons seemed to have other things to worry about than humans and elves bickering. Eragon uneasily retreated to his own dragon, soon to be joined by Orik.

And that left him alone with the elf. Perhaps they could feel the tension in the air? Either way, the following conversation would not be a pleasant one.

"A female," He replied. "Twice."

She looked at him with a blank, emotionless expression and he could not help but shake the feeling that she was being extremely skeptical. "You encountered the same shade twice? How did you survive?"

"First time I snapped her neck in three places. Second time I pulverized her internal organs, tore out a chuck of her spine and shot her in her head."

She lowered her head slightly and averted her gaze. It indicated that she was solemn, but the fact that she was slowly clenching her hands gave away that she was angry. "Shades are not easy to slay, or even hurt. If you are fortunate, you will only insult someone with such delusory tales…but if you are unfortunate, a shade might hunt you down. Do not presume to talk about them like that."

What was wrong with her? "Let them. I've faced worse."

"Your arrogance is matched only by your lack of manners," She bitterly stated.

He looked her straight in her eyes and tried to come up with an explanation for her attitude. There was none. Even though he knew that he shouldn't have to justify anything to her, he still felt like he needed to. "I don't tell tales."

With that, he walked away from the annoying elf. He had better things to do than listen to do.

Like waiting a few hours for the urgals to attack. The defenders were sloppy and undisciplined; they were wrapped up in their own thoughts and sank in a brooding silence as the hours passed by. Eventually, the crater grew dark again as the sun left its highest point in the sky.

'So much for a few hours,' The Spartan thought and moved to the nearest entrance of the tunnel. Ajihad, Jörmundur and the dwarven king were all responsible for leading their division and driving the urgals out of the tunnel, but so far they weren't doing anything worthwhile. They had barricaded the entrances to the tunnels with rudimentary wooden defenses and they had actually sat up cauldrons of boiling pitch above the tunnels.

He couldn't have that. Now that everyone was resting in the long lull before battle, they were at their weakest. And the pitch would only hinder him for his plans, so he had to do something about that too.

While dwarves were grinding their axes, men were inspecting their chain-mail armours and Eragon was spying on Arya, the Spartan moved to the tunnel. Occasionally, messengers would run through the encampment and shake the soldiers out of their stupor, but it was always some sort of false alarm.

Every minute they were sitting there like dead bodies was a minute that they could be reinforcing their perimeter, scout the area or gain advantages. These men were woefully unprepared for a fight.

He grabbed the cauldrons of boiling pitch and removed them from their suspended position above the tunnel, positioning them so that no man could easily knock them over.

'What are you doing?' Aeraleth asked him from her position next to Saphira. The two dragons seemed to be very glad that they had each other, but their bonding only annoyed him.

And he didn't know why. 'Prepping.'

'For what? The tiny men all worked so hard to prepare themselves. Why are you prepping their work away?'

'Their work stops me from moving.'

'Can't you ask them-'

'-no.'

'I could have foreseen that. Did you know that Saphira does not like you?'

'Yes.'

'She states that you smell of death and destruction. I must have been acclimatized to a high degree before, but I have only noticed that now. Why do you think that is?'

'Remember the war against the Covenant?'

'Yes?'

'It was a big war.'

While he worked at altering the entry to the tunnel, he heard Orik the dwarf say something about going to sleep, 'for the night was still long'.

'Aeraleth,' He snapped.

'What is it little soldier?'

'The kid's going to break his body sleeping in his armour. Tell your new friend to warn him.'

Aeraleth snorted in amusement and then withdrew her consciousness from his mind, leaving him alone to continue working.'

He positioned the rubble so that one well-placed kick would cause it to collapse completely, preventing anyone from exiting for a while. He had already placed the boiling pitch so that he could dose the tunnel with the black stuff when everybody was secure, which only left the wooden stakes. His plan involved having the troops pour into the tunnel with their pikes so that the urgals would be forced to fight in a narrow line, but the three leaders hadn't felt much for that.

No matter.

While Eragon carefully removed a part of his armour before going to sleep, he spotted Arya still sitting on her rock, watching over the boy and his dragon.

It was strange that she didn't need to sleep either. He knew that he could function after four days without sleep, but the elven lady looked as sharp and ready as the moment they had started waiting. An innate racial trait?

After another hour or three, Orik woke Eragon up and then helped him get suited up again.

"It has begun," Arya said with a sorrowful expression.

The troops were finally standing at the ready; their weapons were drawn and they were all tensed up with anticipation. Orik swung his axe around to test his reach, Arya nocked an arrow and Eragon grabbed his sword.

Maine ejected the magazine of his assault rifle, inspected the first round and then inserted the mag back into his gun. A few soldiers nervously eyed him as he prepared his rifle and he felt Aeraleth's curiosity.

'You never told me what those things are,' She asked him. 'You use no pointy sticks like the rest of the humans. What can your weapons do?'

'It's an air-cooled, gas-operated, magazine-fed rifle designed for automatic fire of a 7.62x51 millimeter Armour Piercing, Full Metal Jacket round.'

In the silence that followed his explanation, he started to wonder why his dragon had bothered to ask.

Her answer presented itself rather quickly. 'I do not follow you.'

'I point, things die,' He then explained to the dragon and quickly proceeded to inspect his SMG's while the boy named 'Murtagh' started to explain things to Eragon.

"A scout ran out of the tunnel a few minutes ago. The urgals are coming."

They were silent for a while, but the Spartan did no rely on the senses of the soldiers stationed at the front. His motion tracker was tuned to fifty meters, a hundred meters or a hundred-and-fifty meters.

And he was seeing red dots at extreme range. A lot of dots. His helmet picked up loud growls and guttural speeches that could only belong to the urgals and he quickly modified his rifle for long-range encounters.

He looked over his shoulder and made brief eye-contact with Arya, Eragon and Orik. To Aeraleth, he said: 'Stick close to Saphira and aim for the heads. Don't take risks and don't flatten your allies.'

'Little Spartan, what are you going to do?' She replied.

He did not reply further and instead, much to the despair and confusion of the soldiers around him, jumped over the wooden stakes and into the tunnel. He heard people crying out and then he heard Orik telling Eragon that he couldn't be saved.

It almost sounded like the kid wanted to retrieve him. Interesting. Didn't they think he had a reason for jump into the entrance to the tunnel like that? The tunnel was approximately seven meters wide and four meters high.

He sank through his knees, rolled over his shoulders to dissipate the momentum and then snapped his rifle up. The tunnel was approximately seven meters wide and four meters high, which meant that he had very clear lines of fire.

He could see the urgals perfectly; grey-skinned and horned abominations, ready to slaughter all the humans they could find. Enemies to humanity and his prey. A distance of a hundred-and-fifty meters was too close for his liking, but it was still enough. He had six clips for his Assault Rifle, of which he wanted to use three. And then four clips for his SMG's and two clips for his pistol.

And then he would use his new tricks.

The Spartan aimed down the sights of his rifle, lined up with the first head and pulled the trigger. The urgals tight formation and bottle-necked numbers meant that each and every round meant several casualties and that was acceptable to him.

He squeezed the trigger and started his bloody work. As a Spartan Operator, he was a crack shot. Normal soldiers and combatants received training and conditioning that made them fire at a target's center of mass. That was the highest chance of actually hitting someone without wasting ammo and usually, such a shot was also lethal.

Not with his generation of Spartans. They had all received extensive training to aim at the head of their targets, as that was the only way to make sure something was dead.

These urgals were severely outmatched. He had distance, ammo and all the space in the world to pick them off one at a time. Every time he pulled the trigger, an explosive discharge sent a metal projectile tearing through at least two skulls in quick succession. Each shot meant at least two bodies falling to the ground, making it more difficult for the other humanoids to advance.

Maine continued to fire off single shots, using the moments between his calm heart beating to single out a target and take him out. He had time, but not too much. As such, he would reduce his firing speed to one headshot per second, occasionally waiting to score a triple kill with a single bullet and occasionally speeding up to take out five adjacent enemies in two seconds.

'Maine!' Aeraleth cried out in his head, nearly throwing his next shot off. He readjusted and shot a Kull in the face, before answering the call.

'What?' He asked her.

'Whatever are you doing in there? The humans are fearing the worst.'

'And you?' He asked as he felled another two urgals with one shot. He didn't keep track of his kills, but he did keep track of his ammo-counter, which indicated that he only had twenty shots left.

'I know better,' She growled. 'But your many noises unnerve a few people and the battle has already been joined at the other two tunnels!'

'Join Eragon and Saphira.'

'I cannot leave you trapped down there with those beasts!'

'You don't understand,' He replied as he started marching forwards. The urgals were confused and shocked by his ambush and had stopped moving, allowing him to quickly unload his twenty remaining bullets into their skulls. Then he ejected the spent magazine, strapped it to his suit as he would need to refill it later and slammed a fresh mag into the receiver. The counter reset and read sixty again. 'I'm not trapped with them.' He reduced the distance between him and the beasts to fifty meters and hosed their ranks again. He had made at least a hundred kills with his careful marksmanship. 'They are trapped here with me.'

'If you get wounded,' she hissed at him, 'I will pry you out of your armour and leave you to be nurtured by elves!'

'There is only one,' He replied and started to step left and right as a new front of urgals started to shoot arrows at him. 'And she would be too disgusted to touch me.'

'And why would that be? With one as beautiful as me as your partner, how can you be unsightly?'

'You will have to be pretty for the both of us,' He replied as he unloaded his second magazine into the urgal ranks. Their bodies fell to the ground in great numbers, but his munition was finite.

And their numbers didn't look like they were burdened by the same laws, as they simply kept coming and coming. The tidal waves of flesh were as relentless and numerous as the grunts were in their approach and this time, he was unaided by explosives, air support and mines. He was completely dependent on his own weaponry as he couldn't steal a damn thing from the enemy and even with the advantage of guns, the urgals kept on coming. They seemed unsure of what to do when faced with a single attacker who killed more than two-hundred of them on his own, but that confusion would not last long.

Every single humanoid he shot directly died from a headshot and he did not waste a single bullet. On the contrary; many bullets exited the back of the heads of their first targets and kept on going, claiming second or third targets. But the enemy was coming too close. Their ranks had almost reached the first spent casings on the floor and if he didn't use magic soon, the opportunity would be wasted.

The super-soldier heard war-cries and screaming as the Varden's army crashed into the bulk of the urgal warriors and felt a tang of annoyance that they hadn't taken a better tactic. When you were outnumbered, you did not meet your foe in the middle of an open battlefield. That was a very easy way to lose the fight.

When his rifle clicked empty, he ejected the empty magazine and tucked it away without looking. Never breaking eye-contact with the advancing mass of urgals, he slipped a new magazine into the rifle and it clicked home.

'Maine, the Varden is fighting the grey beasts, but the soldiers in front of your tunnel grow restless. Soon they will disperse! Jörmundur is furious with you.'

'What's your status?'

'Furious. And not only with you. Come out of there soon and we can finally fight side-by-side!'

'Copy that.'

Then the Spartan tapped into the reserves of magical energy lying in the back of his mind and muttered: "Reisa."

More than a hundred spent casings floated in the air without causing the soldier any discomfort. The system was right; magic didn't take more energy than a normal motion would take. These empty rounds weighed too little to be bothered by them and even though he had just lifted a hundred-and-twenty at the same time, he didn't feel any different.

"Thrysta," He then called and sent ten of the rounds sped towards the urgal ranks, moving at speeds almost equal to their rifle-fired counterparts. The urgals had finally realized that their slow advance was suicide and they had increased their speed to a full-on charge, but that only made their casualties that much more intense.

The rounds impacted on their heads, stopping many of them dead in their tracks. The projectiles did not even need to tear through their brain to kill them; even when they didn't penetrate their skulls, they caused enough blunt force trauma to kill.

All but the strongest Kull survived the first barrage and still the Spartan felt nothing. So he increased the odds.

Backpedaling as he did, the soldier launched another thirty rounds towards the advancing urgals. When that didn't cause any strain, he launched another fifty.

By that point, more than fifty urgals alone had died from his 'recycling' and he started to feel a bit different. He could feel the energy sipping away, but the amount was too insignificant to worry about and even if it did, he would continue.

Slowly but steadily, he backed out of the tunnel while pelting the enemy's ranks with magically launched bullets. More and more urgals fell to his barrage, but more would come to take their place. They were outnumbering him by far.

He reached the end of the tunnel and then ran out of bullets to reuse. He had killed more than three-hundred of the beasts in his opening salvo, but now they were going to flood out of the tunnel.

But he was ready for that.

There wasn't a single soldier waiting for him near the exit; all of Jörmundur's division had moved to reinforce either Ajihad or Hrothgar.

And that was good.

'Spartan!' Aeraleth called out. 'Were you victorious?'

'No,' He replied as he backed out of the tunnel and leaped in-between the two cauldrons of still-boiling pitch. 'Why?'

He looked around and saw that there were two separate fights going on in Farthen Dûr: one by each open tunnel that was not Spartan-occupied. The urgals were severely disadvantaged the dispersal of their forces and inability to make use of their superior numbers, But even so, the Varden and the dwarves were unable to keep them at bay. Slowly but steadily, the horned humanoids were gaining ground. He couldn't see much from his higher position on top of the tunnel, but he did see that his tunnel wasn't the only one with a severely outnumbering force. Both Ajihad and the dwarven king were facing a completely superior foe in numbers and they could not hold them back for long.

'You were in there for a long time for this fight's standards. You have delayed the grey beasts' arrival by at least a few minutes. It allowed Jörmundur to get his troops to better use. But they will not be back at this tunnel for a while. Get out of there!'

The Spartan waited until the enemy was directly below him and then took his turn pelting them with small, sharp slivers of rock. It was enough to cause the urgals to bundle up together and when they looked up to spot him, but used magic to remove that one stone that would cause the rubble co collapse, trapping the horned hostiles for a while.

And when they were screaming for his blood, he kicked the cauldrons of pitch over and shot the black liquid with his pistol.

He had smelled the odour of burning flesh for a while, but he had thought it to be the natural smell of the urgals and not their…well, natural burning smell. The Varden had lit the other cauldrons of pitch to set the creatures alight.

The Spartan was not a big fan of that tactic. Pitch was valuable and could be used for much better things.

While the urgals were screaming and burning, he leaped off of the tunnel and landed on the solid ground of Farthen Dûr.

'Aeraleth!´ He called out with mind, ´Rendezvous on my position!´

´I hear you, little soldier!´ She replied and he spotted her shadowy bulk flying overhead. In the darkness of the hollow mountain and the chaos of the fight, she was as stealthy as an Elite with active camo. Eragon and Saphira were working with the dwarves to safeguard their king, but they were slowly making their way towards his tunnel. ´I bring help.´

´I don´t need help,´ He replied as he faced the mouth of the dark tunnel, where the many marching bodies were slowly trampling the burning pitch. He might need more ammo though.

´Maine, the other tunnels contain more than a thousand horned beasts each. You cannot best all of them!´

´Watch me.´ He replied and decided on spending his third and last clip for the fight. The many hundreds of urgals were forcing themselves through the tunnel, flattening their own soldiers against the rubble and sharpened stakes until their sheer momentum carrier them through.

And he shot each and every one of them in the head as they rose from the tunnel. At one point, he decided that the Kull were the biggest threat on the battlefield and he closed the distance between himself and the entry of the tunnel, where he proceeded to shoot only Kull in the face while he punched, kicked and otherwise killed the normal urgals with hand-to-hand combat. They were not sturdy and strong enough to withstand his blows and he killed most of them with a single hit. But they were seriously just too numerous and soon, his third clip was spent too. He had lost track of his kills and he understood that if he faltered now, the area would get flooded and the surrounding armies would be flanked.

If his companion was right, there would be thousands of urgals ready to vanquish them. And slowly, the amount that trickled out of the entrance of the tunnel seemed to make good on that prediction. For every urgal he beat to death or stabbed in the face, five would surface. He couldn't oversee the entrance all on his own and slowly, he got surrounded by the urgals.

He looked up and then decided to focus primarily on the ones leaving the tunnel, moving only to dodge axes and swords that came down crashing towards him. Eventually, he had seven Kull and ten urgals massing together to press the attack on him. But those idiots were bunched up.

Then, Aeraleth roared violently and swept down from above, like a great black shadow, crushing the two dozen horned humanoids that were planning on 'overwhelming' him. Her sheer speed and mass was enough to crush their bodies and because they were focused on him, they hadn't any weapons trained at her.

She skidded to a halt just as he rolled to his side, nearly threatening to hit him as well.

'You have been busy,' she stated.

'Not enough,´ He replied. Then he turned around and saw the elf approaching his position, her thin sword in her hand and blood coating its blade. Eragon and Saphira quickly joined them too and the sudden appeatance of two dragons was enough to scare the ever-increasing mass of urgals in a momentary halt.

"Spartan," She greeted him.

"Heavens, you made a lot of noise!" Eragon exclaimed. "Did you use magic to do that?"

The kid must be referring to his weapon. "Not at first," He replied and then placed his now-empty assault rifle away.

Arya eyed his weapons carefully and then looked at him. "Your weapons are not from Alagaesia, are they?"

Clever girl. "No."

"How do they work?"

"Like a crossbow. They launch metal projectiles."

"Can you not kill more of them with those weapons?" Eragon asked, looking desperate, exhausted and scared. "It would make our victory easier to reach."

"Nearly out of ammo," He replied and then pulled out his sidearm. "I don't have enough."

And then the urgals recovered from their stupor and pressed the assault with more ferocity and speed than ever before, breaking out of the tunnel and into the battlefield.

'I think,' Aeraleth told him, 'That we might be outdone in numbers.'

'You think?' He replied and stepped back, watching the hundreds of urgals approaching them not only from the front, but also from the sides.

~0~

"How would your death prove anything? It would be a waste."

"Durza, the grey rider is poisoned. The most potent drug my lady could find runs through his veins now. I know what I am doing."

"As soon as I have found the boy, I will come to assist you."

"That is…unnecessary, Durza. But welcome nonetheless."

~0~