Chapter 7: Drottningu's Battle.

^ (The Princess' Battle) ^


***

Lost, alone and completely exhausted, Arya dropped on her knees, crying. She covered her face with her smooth hands. Eragon... Arya sobbed. She was unsure why she was actually crying. If I don't love Eragon, then why am I in this state? She asked herself.

Gently, Arya leaned against a tree, her hair covered half of her beautiful face but she did not care. She didn't know where she was, she didn't know how far she had ran... everything around her was a blur; even her mind. It took her decades trying to rebuild herself after she was banished by her own mother... and Faolin's death. But right now she felt it crumble, every single barrier collapsing to the ground.

I had a... chance to... love again. She was nothing like the impassive, blank Arya that everyone knew. Finally she had broken down, emotionally, mentally and physically. Slowly she closed her already swollen red eyes and whispered almost inaudibly, "I'm so sorry, Eragon.. I'm sorry."

I have denied his affection... and so to my own happiness. Arya thought. Tears flowed heavily from her sombre emerald eyes. They were clouded with utter dejection and severe anxiety. Uncertain of what to do, Arya could only look up at the star constellations; examining how each light twinkled like her eyes. She wished upon a star that luck would shine upon her life. Where had her star gone when Faolin died? And, where has it gone when everything is now ruined between her and Eragon?

For the first time in her life, she didn't want to act like the person everyone wanted her to be.

She bit her lip, trying to keep her tears under control. She curled up into a ball and before drifting on to a dreamless and restless sleep, she said lightly, "Eragon, don't ever let me go...please." Time seemed meaningless to her, each passing minute an inevitable torment, each passing second a prolonged misery. Close. She just needed to shut her eyes and seal herself off from the outside world. One more step... one more movement; she would be an inch closer to definite and perpetual darkness...

...

...

...

Rustling.

What is that sound?

The harsh wind brushed against Arya's skin. The eerie ambience compelled her to awaken, forcing her out of her protective shell. Arya jolted upright, grabbing her swords in one elegant motion. She positioned heself to a fighting stance. An inhumane, guttural sound was produced and Arya's ears strained to acknowledge it. Her eyes flitted towards the trees. Vigilance invaded Arya's mind, driving everything out. Eradicating her thoughts about Eragon, she concentrated on the situation at hand.

Low growling came from two different directions. Fearless, Arya stealthily stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight. Breathing softly, she scanned her surroundings, searching any soldiers or spies ahead.

A hooded figure advanced forward and another one emerged from the treetops. Arya's heartbeat quickened. She realized they were the same ones she had spotted yesterday; the ravenous spies who ate human flesh. Briefly she remembered the dead soldier; his body ripped to pieces and his innards chewed by the monsters who were now presented infront of her. She shuddered inwardly. She will not be defeated by these repulsive monsters.

"Ah, Arya Drottningu." One of the taller figures ahead of her rasped. Arya cringed, her skin pricked as she heard the voice. It was distorted and rough. It was an unpleasing sound to the ears. They're not humans. Arya thought, but she was even more uneasy about how the stranger knew her name.

"We know you have been spying on us, Elf." The smaller one grunted. Arya gripped her swords tighter. Her eyes found it hard to search the faces behind the hoods. She figured both of them were male because of their deep distorted voices. The two black figures slowly met and now stood side by side, their heads held up high. They were almost similar, but their height was the only difference; one was taller than the other.

"What are you?" Arya could not resist asking. One of them produced a cackling sound as if it the question was a laughing matter.

"What are we?..." He chuckled, "Well-"

"Enough talk," The taller one grumbled, "Let's take her to Galbatorix. It would please him if we brought him the third egg and this arrogant Elf to him." He said the word elf as if it was repulsive. Arya shot him a piercing gaze.

"Yess..." The small one hissed, "It would destroy that young, foolish rider!"

Arya winced. Eragon! How did they know about us? For a moment Arya's mind returned to the recent event that had happened earlier. The thoughts of Eragon flooded her mind. Her heart wrenched.

"Love can be such a burden, isnt it?" One of them asked her amusingly. Arya's lips tightened. These spies are mind readers...

"Only one of us, that's me." The taller one said, keeping his hands together.

Arya panicked, she tried to conceal her expression and was barely succesful. Slowly the the two figures separated directions. Arya now faced two dangerous foes, one infront and the other one behind.

"I'd rather watch; it will be amusing how she will try effortlessly to fight back." The smaller one cackled. That's it! Arya had enough insults. Elves can be angered easily if offended.

Swiftly she pulled a dagger from her knife pocket and threw it at his direction. It travelled at such a tremendous speed, it was impossible to stop it...or so she thought. Arya's face drained of colour as her opponent caught the dagger's hilt.

The emerald-hilted dagger rested perfectly between his slitted index and middle finger. What kind of creatures are these? Arya wondered.

Stunned of his startling speed, Arya could only stand there, too amazed. Distracted, she failed to react quickly when the dagger came flying back and dug itself deep in her thigh, penetrating her leggings.

A pained groan escaped her lips and she struggled to maintain her balance. Her injured leg wobbled. Arya bit her lip so she wouldn't scream, and slowly she grabbed the dagger and yanked it out. It produced a sick, squelching sound.

Crimson red blood oozed from her cut and Arya held the stained dagger infront of her. She noticed that there was black liquid at the top of it. Suddenly she felt incredible pain, a shock that ran from her cut to the rest of her weakening body. Her visions started to blur. Poison... She scarely managed to think.

Her oponent growled hungrily. "Before we hand her to Galbatorix, let's see how she tastes like first!" He snarled. He jumped and Arya summoned all the strength she had to stand up straight and block the oncoming blow.

"Waise- " She tried to heal the wound but the hooded figure held two broad swords that had magically appeared and held it expertly.

The taller one watched from the sidelines, entertained by Arya's agony. Despite her injury, Arya twisted and lunged rapidly, but her footing failed her. Her opponent slashed another deep wound on her right forearm. Arya screamed in pain. Gasping she dropped one of her swords. Her elven armour was tinged with splattered blood. She held her other sword skillfully with her left hand.

"I'm not giving to give up easily." Arya said through gritted teeth.

"You're a tough elf arent you?" Her opponent mocked, "Elves and their foolish, arrogant pride."

Arya let out a cry and fought single-handedly. She kept her wounded hand safely close to her stomach. Blow after blow, neither gave up. Sparks flew from their clashing swords. Emerald against black.

"Enough!" The taller one barked. Arya's opponent backed away immediately. "Just get her."

Arya glanced nervously between the two. She realized that she was completely helpless. One of them muttered a spell and Arya stiffened. She tried to move but could not. Beads of sweat thickly rolled down from her temples. Arya tried to speak but no words came out. Unexpectedly, her opponent stepped forward and clasped her forehead with one hand.

Black magic clouded her mind. Gradually Arya felt a memorable feeling overcome her. Poision slowly consumed her. All energy drained her. She realized it was the same method the Durza had used to drug her. Arya's drooping eyes looked up to find a set of red slitted eyes staring back at her. Arya felt weakened and her head lolled helplessly sideways. When everything seemed lost; Arya's hope rekindled when she heard a familiar voice.

"Arya!" She heard Eragon's alarmed call. Arya, with her remaining strength, searched where the sound was coming from. Her eyes rested on a strong figure. There was Eragon, Brisingr in his hand, his face a look of anger and worry. Arya's eyes slowly closed as all the fleeting strength left her body. She whispered, "Eragon..." Before drifting off to an oblivious slumber.

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CJ.x