Chapter Ten: To Speak of Demons

Christopher stormed into his room, not bothering to stop the door from flying open. Slamming the door shut, he flopped onto his bed. He began to rub his injured arm. Unbelievable.

The voice of Bid'Daum came into his head, along with a feeling of calm. Don't worry. Eragon has had 450 years to perfect his skill. You are still but a hatchling. You will still get better.

Christopher rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling with unblinking eyes. I'm not worried about that. I'm not worried at all. I'm upset that everyone else gets to go and fight to stop this war, while I'm stuck here training. Even Samuel went off to fight. If I'm the elves greatest hope, shouldn't I be out there, giving hope? It only makes sense.

Bid'Daum's mood changed, and Christopher realized that he was about to receive a lecture. Can you give hope if you're dead? That's why you're training. You may be faster than the others, but without skill, you are still at a disadvantage. You may be able to slay a thousand soldiers, but a thousand soldiers can slay you. You must be able to hold your own in any battle, whether your foes be human, or worse.

Are you referring to the man in my dream?

Christopher heard a strange sound coming from Bid'Daum, and he recognized it as a sigh. Yes. Something about that man chills my spine, so to speak. I don't think he is any normal man. We should be wary of him.

Should we tell Arya or Eragon?

Not Arya. Not until we are sure. Eragon, however, is another story. As I recall, he has had something like this before. Perhaps he should be told, but I leave the decision up to you. And with that, Bid'Daum left Christopher's mind.

Sighing, Christopher stood and walked out of his room in search of Eragon. His search took him to the palace, where he saw a large, blue dragon sitting and staring at the door with one eye. As he approached, the dragon swiveled it's head to face him. Twisting his right hand over his sternum, he bowed. "Hello, Saphira." She blinked in acknowledgment, then went back to staring at the door. Making sure to not accidently brush up against Saphira, he carefully opened the door.

The palace was cooler than the rest of the forest. Christopher didn't have to search long until before he heard Eragon speaking, and the voice of Arya responding. Deciding not to interrupt, Christopher began roaming the halls, losing himself in his memories. Mainly about his venture into the human capital. And the one thing he told no one. The girl he had met. How he found himself trying to impress her. How he couldn't help himself and kissed her. His shock at seeing her in the castle and finding out who she was. Worry began to gnaw at him. If we succeed, what will happen to her? What if her father finds out? She doesn't deserve to get in trouble. After all, everything that happened was my fault. She had no part in it.

He began to pace with nervousness until he heard the shouts and many footsteps that signaled the arrival of one of the attacking squads. However, instead of shouts of victory, Christopher heard only the groans of defeat. Concerned, he snuck off to the throne room, knowing that the commander would give Arya a debriefing. He hid in the shadows as he had before and waited.

He didn't have to wait long until he saw an elf walk up to Arya. With a jolt, he realized that it was Solomon. Christopher just stood there and listened to Solomon's tale. "Everything was going smoothly. The enemy was routing, with over half of their force dead or wounded. Then as they reached the edge of their camp, a lone man made them all turn around. With him, they fought us all the way back through the camp and forced us to retreat out the other side. Three-quarters of my squad is dead. The rest of us are all wounded."

Arya looked concerned. "Who was this man? Did you recognize him?"

"No. I would've remembered him. He was dressed in pure black armor. His hair was red, like he had stained it with blood. His teeth were filed to points. And the one time I was unfortunate enough to exchange blows with him, he had me defeated with just two blows. He was stronger and faster than any man there. He was also trained in mental combat. And he could use magic. He killed a large portion of my squad himself. I don't know what he was, but he wasn't human. Of that I'm sure."

This time Eragon spoke. "Is there anything else?" Solomon shook his head. "Good. Go get that wound looked at. And son. Get some rest. You've earned it." With a bow, Solomon exited the room.

Eragon sighed. "You know what he is, right? Our fight just got a lot harder." Eragon paused for a moment, then looked right at Christopher. "It also seems we have another problem. Christopher, would you please come here."

Christopher slowly left his hiding place. "What is that man?"

Arya looked at him. "He is no man. Why were you listening in?"

"Pardon me, Your Majesty. I didn't mean to. I was coming to speak with Master Eragon. About the... whatever it is."

This time Eragon spoke. "Have you seen him before?"

"Well, not exactly. I saw him in a dream. About a month ago. I wasn't sure if it meant anything, so I didn't mention it."

Eragon and Arya both looked concerned. "In a dream?" Eragon asked. "Are you sure it was him?"

Christopher nodded. "Black armor, blood-red hair, teeth filed to points, stronger than he looks."

Eragon turned to Arya. "If you don't mind, I think Christopher and I should go talk in private.

"Of course," Arya said.

The two of them walked out to where Saphira was waiting. Taking a running start, Eragon leaped onto her back. Holding his hand down to Christopher, he asked, "Are you coming?"

Jumping as high as he could, Christopher could just barely reach Eragon's hand. Once they were secured in the saddle, Saphira flapped her wings three times, and they were off. They soared towards over the trees until they landed in a clearing with a small hut in it. Next to the clearing Christopher could see a large crevice stretching down to an unseeable depth.

Once they had gotten off of Saphira, they went to the hut and sat at a small table outside. Eragon's eyes grew worried once again. "This is the Craigs of Tel'naeir. It's history is long, and we have no time to go over it. Now, I'm sure you're wondering about this being. He is a Shade. A cursed thing. A Shade is created when a sorcerer attempts to summon a spirit that is stronger than he is. The spirit then takes over the body of the sorcerer, turning him into a thing of pure evil. As you heard, a shade is incredibly powerful, and difficult to kill. The only way to kill a Shade is to stab it in the heart. And even if you do, your chances of survival are minimal. Only four people have ever survived killed a Shade. Irnstad the Rider, Laetri the elf, Arya, and myself."

"But if you and Arya killed both killed a Shade, can't you kill this one too?"

"Maybe. For all my power, a Shade is still a deadly opponent. I've fought two in my lifetime, and both times I was lucky to escape with my life. With Solomon's report, it becomes clear that this Shade is working for the humans. Which means that your training must be extensive enough that you can survive. No doubt when the humans learn of you, they will send the Shade to kill you. You must be strong enough to at least survive. Any questions?"

"No."

"Good. Then let us continue your training."