Okay chapter…is it nine now

Okay chapter…is it nine now? This chappie might not be quite as long as that last one because I have a lot of homework that I should be doing. I'll try though…

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o00o

"What is the name of your dragon?"

Lynara jumped, blinking away the sleep from her eyes. She peered around, momentarily disoriented by the pressing dark of night. After one quick scan of her surroundings, she had gotten her bearings. Linmáros rode directly next to her on the trail, his black hair shimmering slightly in the moonlight. The glow of Isktar's white horse was barely visible far in the distance, and Lynara could feel the slight eddies of wind from the downbeats of Briam's powerful wings above her.

Clearing her head, she turned to Linmáros and replied, "His name is Briam. He hatched for me a month and a half ago."

Linmáros nodded sagely, his gaze following the green dragon who was experimenting with tight turns and other maneuvers in the air. "He is a magnificent creature, by all accounts. I have never seen a dragon, for I was born after the fall of the Riders, and was not privileged enough to meet Eragon Shadelsyaer on his visits to Ellesméra. They are even more beautiful than in our songs and legends."

Lynara flashed a small smile. "I don't pretend to be a learned elf, but I would agree with you. I am reminded every day when I wake up and feel his presence in my mind how lucky I am. And I won't ever forget."

"As it should be," Linmáros murmured in reply, bowing his head. They plodded along in silence for a long while after that. Lynara did not know exactly where they are, except that they were traveling toward Ceunon. A vague green haze on her right told her that they were close to Du Weldenvarden's edge.

"Why do we not ride through the forest to reach the city?" she questioned Linmáros. The elf cocked his head, glancing down at his mount.

"There are many reasons, but primarily because it would not be good to reveal yourselves before Islanzadí knows of your existence. There are many who would seek to use you, as a Rider, to their own ends. We seek only to protect you, and in this matter, it is best to stay hidden for now." His hands twisted the reins into intricate knots, then with a flourish he straightened out the leather.

Lynara knew there was more to his explanation than her safety, but it was obvious that he wasn't about to tell her, and she was too tired to insist. Instead, she leaned forward again on her Huthmír's neck, her spine aching from the constant jolt of the saddle. They had been almost nonstop since leaving the outskirts of Dalburn, through the rest of the afternoon and into the night. Even now, when the first pale fingers of dawn were reaching above the edge of the world, the tireless elves showed no signs of stopping.

A sudden thud of hooves once again shocked Lynara out of her reverie, and she leaned back up in the saddle, brushing locks of smooth black hair out of her face. At first she thought someone was attacking them, but as she got a better look at who was coming near, she realized that it only Isktar, galloping furiously towards them. Linmáros met her gaze for a second, then turned to greet his brother.

"What brings you back, brother?" asked the black-haired elf, murmuring in his horse's ear. The beast came to a slow halt, awaiting Isktar's approach. Lynara paused stopped beside him.

What's going on? Briam inquired. Lynara felt a rush of air as his wings flapped overhead. There was a pause, and then she heard the snap of his wings as he pulled out of a dive, and the muted thud as he collided with the hardpacked ground.

I don't know. Isktar's come back.

The silver-haired elf reined in his horse a few feet on front of them. His face was still as grave and solemn as ever, but his features were more animated than she had ever seen them.

"A company of Galbatorix's soldiers approaches on the western road, on horseback. There are ten, maybe fifteen of them, in full armor," he explained to his brother. Lynara now realized what had him excited – he wanted nothing more than to fight the soldiers. She grimaced.

Linmáros' eyes widened. "Fifteen? There are only two of us-"

An ear-splitting roar rent the silence, and both the elves jumped, their horses shying away from the sound. Lynara barely even flinched, so accustomed was she to the crash of Briam's anger.

Tell them: Three elves and one dragon is more than a match for fifteen puny soldiers. I shall tear them limb from limb if they so much as put a scratch on your blade.

"Briam thinks we can beat the odds with…three elves and a dragon against fifteen men," Lynara conveyed, leaving out the gory details.

Miserably, she said to Briam: I am not an elf.

That does not matter. You have as much a right to call yourself an elf as them, if you so wish, the dragon retorted.

Isktar and Linmáros glanced at each other, their shoulders tense. They whispered a few words, and then Isktar suddenly wheeled and raced away, into the shadows ahead.

Lynara watched him ride away with apprehension. "Do we have to fight the soldiers?" she questioned of Linmáros.

The elf was rummaging in the canvas pack tied to his saddle, and he gave a short, muffled reply. "We do. There is nothing for it. They saw Isktar, and they heard Briam;s fearsome roar. Even now they ride faster to meet us in battle."

"How can you tell?" Lynara asked. Briam was stretching and flexing the iron muscles in his legs, preparing to rip soldiers from head to toe.

"The vibrations of the earth tell me many things," the elf replied cryptically. After a moment, he pulled a battered sword sheath from his pack. Lynara eyed it curiously. The sheath was made of plain brown leather but embroidered with the colorful designs of birds. The sword that Linmáros drew slowly into the light was slender and slightly curved, the metal a dark gray color, with a hilt of black leather, the pommel of which was a huge black stone.

"What kind of stone is that?" she couldn't help asking. It was no gem she knew, but it looked as hard as a diamond.

"It is únglötr, the black stone found only among the fire-mountains in the far east of Alagaësia. This was my mother's sword. The legend of the stone is among our most beloved of the old scripts." The elf ran a finger fondly down the edge of the blade.

Someday I should very much like to hear that story, but not today, Briam remarked to Lynara. He turned his great head to glance at her.

You should ride on me, the dragon suggested. That way I can protect you with my teeth and claws, and you can protect my flanks and wings. We will also need as much experience fighting together as possible. Can you sit on my back without hurting your legs? Briam bent to his knees as Lynara slid from her horse.

"Are you going to ride the dragon?" Linmáros questioned, watching her excitedly.

"Yes. He figures we need the experience," Lynara answered. She drew her pale dagger from her own pack and slung it at her hip. The black-haired elf's eyebrows jumped as he saw this.

"Do you not carry a sword, Shur'tugal?" he queried, surprised.

Lynara shrugged. "I never learned to wield one."

The elf gave a quick laugh. "You cannot fight with just a dagger. I have an extra weapon in my bag. It's not a Rider's sword, but it's a good blade, and will serve you well. Better than a knife, I should think." He laughed quietly to himself again and turned to his packs again.

Lynara's temper flared. "You have clearly never seen a master fight with a knife. Let us see who fells more warriors today, Linmáros, son of Lóin. It would do you some good to learn the skills of a small blade."

The elf did not seem convinced, but he nodded politely and did not offer her a sword.

In silence, they waited for a few minutes for, until a faint shout reached Lynara;s ears. Linmáros heard it to, and he murmured to her: "That is my brother. He has sighted the soldiers around the bend in the trail ahead. He will try to slow them with arrows, but more will come. Isktar will give us a signal in a moment."

The darkness pressed in on Lynara, crouched in the hollow between Briam;s shoulders, her fingers clenched around the hilt of her dagger. She could feel Briam's tense muscles beneath her, ready to spring.

If only we had had time to make that saddle, she remarked. No sooner had the thought left her mind than the form of Isktar's white horse appeared around the bend in the trail. He neared them in a moment, breathing hard.

"They approach." His short account only made Lynara more apprehensive about the impending battle. "I shot one, maybe two, from their mounts, but the rest still draw near. Prepare yourself, dragon, Rider. These are trained soldiers, and they will not hesitate to strike at you."

Lynara nodded, too anxious for sharp retorts at the moment. In a mere matter of seconds, the thundering hooves of the Empire's men were audible, and then with a burst of color and dust, a group of thirteen men, clothed in the bright crimson uniforms of Galbatorix's army, appeared around the corner of the trail.

At the sight of the men, Lynara felt Briam's muscles suddenly clench, and she instinctively clapped hands over her ears. Not a half a second later, the dragon opened his jaws to their full width, exposing a mouthful of lethal ivory fangs, and a roar that could shame even the most terrible of wild dragons boomed from the depths of his chest. Even with her hands over her ears, the force of his bellow shook Lynara's entire body and made her ears scream for a full minute afterwards.

The soldiers came to a jerking halt, their horses rearing and shrieking in fear. The elven horses emitted whinnies of discomfort but did not bolt, so much more intelligent were they than common beasts of their kind. After successfully frightening the soldiers and forcing them to stop, Briam pushed off from the ground, extending his wings. He didn't lift into the air, but merely leapt forward, flapping to gain as much momentum as possible, and charged at the small company of soldiers.

Linmáros and Isktar released battle cries in unison, urging their mounts forward at Briam's flanks. Their intimidating charge had the desired effect – the Empire's men scattered in panic, and some were even tossed from their horses, which were delirious with fear.

Linmáros overtook Briam before he reached the soldiers, and swung his strange blade in a high arch, neatly decapitating a red-shirted soldier who was foolish enough to turn and face him. Once they reached the soldiers, Briam immediately lunged forward and ripped a man in half with his treacherous claws. Blood spattered his muzzle and Lynara's pale tunic. She stared at the corpse for a moment, sickened, and then suddenly wretched over Briam's side, her sight going fuzzy.

What is wrong? Briam asked anxiously in her head.

I've never seen the inside of a person before, Lynara replied matter-of-factly, somewhat recovered.

You will kill many more in your lifetime, Lynara, and now is not the time to think about the people who die by your blade. Here, climb off my back, and make good your promise to the black-furred elf.

Lynara did as she was told, sliding down Briam's scaled shoulder and unsheathing her dagger in one fluid movement. She tied the belt and sheath to one of Briam's neck spikes, and then search for an opponent.

By now, only eight soldiers remained alive, and only three of them were on horseback. They had spread all around the surrounding the area, making it more difficult to catch every one. Once she had climbed off his back, Briam lifted himself into the air, and then dove away to chase the three men on horseback. Isktar was far down the path, engaged in a furious battle with a burly man who carried two thick swords in either hand. The elf was obviously gaining the upper hand, but Lynara figured it might be a little while before he vanquished his foe.

Lynara turned to see Linmáros flitting over to her, fleeing the blade of a skinny swordsman who looked to be about sixteen. At first she was surprised to see him running from an opponent, but then as he neared it was obvious that he was merely trying to get closer to her.

"I have killed two, Rider. What is your count?" the elf queried. The young swordsman was gaining on him, and the elf turn to fend him off before Lynara had a chance to answer.

The elf lifted his blade, prepared to bring it down on his enemy's head. Before his blade fell, the swordsman suddenly stopped in his tracks, his face going pale, and then dropped at Linmáros' feet, his limbs slack.

Lynara darted around the stunned elf and snatched her dagger from the soldier's chest, where it had pierced his armor directly over his heart. The soldier had been dead before he hit the ground.

"That's one for me," the blue-eyed girl threw back over her shoulder as she ran to find another opponent. Linmáros stared after her, his jaw hanging open.

The previous night's dark blanket had lifted, and the plains around them were cast in a pale purple glow. Four soldiers remained, darting about in the shrubs like frightened rabbits. Briam, with blooded claws, leapt into the air and wheeled around, targeting a lanky man who was trying to sneak past the elves on the road. The man gave a shriek of fear and began to run, but Lynara knew he had no chance. As she turned away, she heard Briam give an answering roar and then the rush of wind as he tucked his wings into a dive.

Isktar was pulling his sword out of the stomach of the heavyset warrior, his face smeared with streaks of crimson blood. Linmáros had recovered from the shock of watching his adversary fall at his feet, and was running in wide circles, closing in on a panicked man who cowered behind a stunted tree, his voice rising and falling in a mournful wail. The other two soldiers were standing back to back behind a tall boulder, thinking they were invisible to Lynara's gaze. If she had been a normal being, they would have been, but through Briam's eyes, the soldiers were clearly visible, murmuring to each other in the shadow of the rock. Lynara relied on the dragon's sight as she crept towards the stone, her dagger weighing heavy in her hand.

With a loud cry, Lynara rush around the rock, surprising both the soldiers. The first she slashed across the arm as he tried to deflect her blow with a non-existent shield. The man screamed, clutching his elbow, watching in horror as blood welled between his fingers. His yell was cut off as Lynara twirled and stabbed the dagger into the back of his throat. The soldier fell forward onto his bloodied arm with a gurgle.

By now, the other man had had time to collect himself, and was standing with his back to the rock, holding his sword out in front while hiding his face behind a black shield. Lynara paused to wipe her dagger on the grass, keeping one blue eye on the terrified warrior. She noticed, with a grim snort, that his shield trembled slightly at the sight of her.

"Please," the soldier choked, his voice unnaturally high. "Have mercy, elf! Have mercy! I have a wife, a child! They will have nothing if you kill me! Please have mercy!"

"You will betray my dragon and I to Galbatorix. There's nothing for it," Lynara replied matter-of-factly, though somewhere deep down her heart constricted at the sound of the man's pitiful pleas.

"I won't! Oh gods above, please, I swear I won't! Just let me live! I'll-"

The knife sunk deep into his shoulder, prompting a blood-curdling scream of pain that interrupted his speech. Again, the stained silver flashed in an arch over his head and pierced the metal plate over his collarbone, slicing through leather, cloth, and skin. The man howled again and dropped to his knees, clutching his neck, his face pale.

Lynara stood behind him, barely panting, watching with a grave face as the soldier clawed at his armor, trying to pull it off in an effort to staunch the bleeding. His attempts were futile, however, and with one more swipe of the knife, the man was dead. Carefully, Lynara reached out and closed both of the soldier's eyelids, shuddering at the tough of his skin, already going cold. She did the same to her other victim, and then quickly fled the seen. On the other side of the boulder, the battle was long over. Isktar and Linmáros were wandering among the dead, collecting weapons and other useful things, while Briam cleaned gore off of his talons.

That was fun, he said to Lynara as he watched her approach. The black-haired girl didn't have the energy to respond. She climbed onto Briam's neck with half-hearted tugs, and collapsed, shivering, into the hollow of his neck.

I've never killed anyone before, she remarked after a few heavy breaths.

Don't dwell on what must be. It is the natural way of the world, young one. Kill or be killed, as dragons say. Those men were not good mean – they served the enemy, and have killed many more innocent people than you. Always remember this, Lynara: As long as your blade fells those who have evil in their hearts, let evil not be in yours. You fought well today – the black-furred elf will have a thing or two to learn from you, I should think.

Lynara smiled weakly. Her palms were cold and clammy, and her limbs trembled like leaves in a gust of wind. She made no move to help the two older elves, who were making their way back to Briam and the horses.

Once Linmáros reached her, the elf sheathed his sword and strode boldly up to Briam's side. He turned his face up to Lynara, perched on the dragon's back, her gaze blurry.

"I have never seen anyone with skills to equal yours while fighting with a dagger. It is a useful tool, to be sure, but I have ever seen it wielded as such an effective weapon as it is in your capable hands. Please forgive me for doubting your prowess." Linmáros finished his speech with a graceful bow, and then strode away as quickly as he had come.

Briam snorted, pale smoke trickling from his nostrils. He has asked for forgiveness from us twice now – some day we should remember to call in those favors.

Lynara tried to form a coherent though to reply, but she could barely muster her consciousness.

"Lynara Shur'tugal, you must ride on your horse if we are to reach the Queen by nightfall," came Isktar's detached voice. The last thing Lynara heard before she drifted into a dreamless sleep was Briam's low growl, and the shuffling of hooves as the elves set off into the sun, the green dragon slinking beside them, his Rider curled between his folded emerald wings.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Erm…I apologize profusely for the gory battle scene, but I got quite into it as I was writing, as you might have noticed. There were probably a bunch of mistakes in this last chappie, but I'm way too lazy to go back and correct them. Sorry.