Back to my favorite character's POV…Review please!
Disclaimer: I Do Not Own This. This Belongs To Christopher Paolini
Ch.10: DANCING WITH SWORDS
Arya turned her head to the right and saw Eragon drumming his heels against the boulder he was sitting on, looking annoyed and bored. So impatient she thought.
She, Eragon, Saphira, and Blödhgarm and his spellcasters were lounging on the bank next to the road that ran eastward from the city of Belatona: eastward through fields of crops; over a wide stone bridge that arched across the Jiet River; and then around the southernmost point of Leona Lake. There the road branched, one fork turning to the right, toward the Burning Plains and Surda, the other turning north, toward Dras-Leona and eventually Urû'baen.
Thousands of men, dwarves, and Urgals milled about before Belatona's eastern gate, as well as within the city itself, arguing and shouting as the Varden tried to organize itself into a cohesive unit. In addition to the ragtag blocks of warriors on foot, there was King Orrin's cavalry—a mass of prancing, snorting horses. And strung out behind the fighting part of the army was the supply train: a mile-and-a-half- long line of carts, wagons, and wheeled pens, flanked by the vast herds of horned cattle the Varden had brought from Surda and supplemented by what animals they had been able to appropriate from farmers along their path. From the herds and the supply train came the lowing of oxen, the braying of mules and donkeys, the honking of geese, and the whinnies and neighs of draft horses.
Arya disliked the waiting as well. She had realized that the hustle and promptness of elves were much better than compared to the humans. But she had been dealing with this for most of her life, so she was forced to become patient.
In her peripheral vision, she saw Eragon jump off the boulder and bounce up and down on his feet. He then trotted away from the road to a flat stretch of grass, drew his sword, and assumed an on-guard position. With a short exclamation he brought his swung his sword around his head and brought it down to less than an inch above the ground. He then continued practicing basic moves of sword-fighting.
Arya observed him curiously. The one time she had seen him do this was on their way to Ellesmera. That time, Eragon had fallen unconscious after a seizure had taken his back from the wound that the shade, Durza, had given him. Arya had stayed by his side for several hours. She recalled being sick with worry, not only because their only hope for defeating Galbatorix was crippled, but also because she had developed a sense of protection for him. It was he who saved her life and even up until now, she felt that she owed him great deal.
After a while, Eragon raised his voice and asked, "Will one or you cross swords with me for a few minutes. The elves looked at each other. Something was pushing Arya to comply with his request but then the elf, Wyrden, stepped forward and said, "I will, Shadeslayer, if it pleases you. However, I would ask that you wear your helm while we spar."
"Agreed," said Eragon.
Arya felt slightly disappointed but pushed that away. She had no reason to be disheartened.
Eragon ran back to Saphira, clambered up her side, reached into the saddlebag, and withdrew his helm. He ran back to the grassy area, donning his helm while he and Wyrden placed thin barriers to blunt their swords' edges. They then took up positions across from each other, bowed, and raised their swords.
Eragon advanced slowly towards Wyrden and Arya could see was trying to inch around his right side where Wyrden would have difficulty defending himself because he was right-handed. Wyrden feinted towards Eragon's knee, but then changed midstroke and tried to slash Eragon across the chest and neck. Eragon was faster though. He brought his sword up to meet Wyrden's and shouted "Ha!"
Eragon shoved Wyrden back then battered him with a series of blows. They continued fighting for several minutes. Eragon was able to touch Wyrden twice within a few exchanges, but soon allowed Wyrden to land four touches on him. Eragon soon lowered his sword and thank Wyrden after a while, looking displeased with himself.
Then he looked over at her where she was standing next to Saphira, a grin spreading across his face.
He walked over and said, "Arya what about out you? We've only sparred together that one time in Farthen Dur." His grin widened. "I've gotten a bit better since then."
"So you have," she replied.
"What say you, then?"
She pretended to cast a critical glance at the Varden. Not exactly knowing why, she was pleased inside, but debated whether or not to spar with him.
Finally she said, "Why not?"
As they walked to the level patch of grass, he said "You won't be able to best me quite as easily as before."
Arya simply replied, "I am sure you are right."
She remembered that time in Farthen Dur where she had sparred with him. She had gone easy on him just because of that fact that she was an elf and he was only human. But he had still showed great swordsmanship nonetheless. Now that he had elven abilities as well, she was not sure about how good he was.
As she prepared her sword, Arya remembered some things that her father had told her when teaching her how to fight with the blade when she was a lot younger. She recalled him saying, "Always look for the weakness in your opponent, Arya. Every person, elf, human, or Urgal has some if not a few." She remembered looking up at him, confused, and asked, "Do I have one?" He had laughed, deep and heartily, saying "Of course not! My daughter is the most fearsome and formidable opponent any one could come to face," and kissed her on the forehead.
Arya felt saddened by the memory. It was such a long time ago….but it feels like yesterday.
As she walked away from Eragon to get into position, she recalled how her father had filled her days with happiness. Now that he was gone, there was a deep hole inside of her. Going back to his words, she realized that he was right. Everyone did have a weakness and as for her, she had quite a few even though she was not willing to admit it.
As she turned around to face Eragon who was about thirty feet away, she tried to look for a drawback in him. That's easy she thought. His weakness…..is me.
A thought came to her. It would be rather funny if I used that setback against him, wouldn't it? She asked herself, smiling inside. But how?...
Eragon then advanced swiftly. Suddenly an idea popped into Arya's head. She made no move to evade him but held her ground instead. When he was less than four yards away, she smiled at him, knowing that he would react in some way.
Arya saw him falter and then instantly closed the distance between them. She brought her sword down on him and he merely had the chance to raise Brisingr to deflect it. She then pushed his sword arm out of the way and stabbed him in his midsection. He fell to the ground on his back trying to breathe. Arya came over, worried for a second that she had knocked him unconscious, but then he let out a gasp and started breathing again.
Eragon slowly got back on his feet and leaned on his sword for support.
"You cheated," he said between gritted teeth.
"No," she replied, extremely amused, but withdrew from showing it in order not to hurt his feelings. "I exploited a weakness in my opponent. There is a difference." She could here murmurs and chuckles coming from the other elves.
"You think…that is a weakness?" he said.
"When we fight, yes," she countered. "Do you wish to continue?"
Eragon yanked Brisingr out of the sod, walked back to where he started, and raised his sword.
"Good," said Arya and mimicked his pose.
This time, Arya advanced first, her eyes never leaving Eragon's.
She twitched and Eragon flinched. Another step forward, then he swung with all his speed
and might. She blocked his cut to her ribs and replied with a jab toward his exposed armpit. The blunted edge of her sword slid across the back of his free hand, scraping against the mail sewn onto his gauntlet as he slapped the blade away. At that moment, Arya's torso was exposed, but they were too close for Eragon to effectively slash or stab. Instead, he lunged forward and struck at her breastbone with the pommel of his sword but she twisted out of the way, and the pommel went through
the space where she had been as Eragon stumbled forward. Arya twisted around again and wrapped her arm around his neck and pressed her swords against the side of his jaw.
She could tell he was getting frustrated and just to tease and irritate him further she whispered into his right ear saying, "I could have removed your head as easily as plucking an apple from a tree."
She released her hold and shoved him away. Eragon spun around angrily to find Arya waiting for him with her sword ready.
Giving in to his anger, Eragon sprang after her. Four blows they exchanged, each more terrible than the last. Arya struck first, chopping at his legs. He parried and slashed crosswise at her waist, but she skipped out of reach of Brisingr's glittering, sunlit edge. Without giving her an opportunity to retaliate, he followed up with a looping underhand cut, which she blocked with deceptive ease. Then she stepped forward and, with a touch as light as a hummingbird's wing, drew her sword across his belly.
Arya held her position at the conclusion of the stroke, her face mere inches from his. She felt uneasy at being so close to him and felt her cheeks flush.
With exaggerated care, they disengaged.
Eragon straightened his tunic and squatted next to her.
"I don't understand," he said quietly after a while.
Arya understood. She understood perfectly.
"You have become too accustomed to fighting Galbatorix's soldiers. They cannot hope to match you, so you take chances that would otherwise prove your undoing. Your attacks are too obvious—you should not rely on brute strength—and you have grown lax in your defense."
"Will you help me?" he asked. "Will you spar with me when you can?"
She nodded. "Of course. But if I cannot, then go to Blödhgarm for instruction; he is as skilled with a blade as I am. Practice is the only remedy you need, practice with the proper partners."
She was about to say more when she felt an unfamiliar presence against her mind. It was vast, frightening, and betrayed melancholy and sadness so great and deep. Then in a slow, deep voice, the dragon Glaedr spoke: "You must learn…to see what you are looking at."
Then the presence disappeared leaving a void.
Arya looked at Eragon. Judging from the expression on his face, she realized that he had heard it as well. So had Blödhgarm and the other elves who were murmuring beyond. Saphira was also craning her neck back to look at the saddlebag where Eragon must have put Glaedr's heart or heart, his precious Eldunari.
Arya and Eragon sprinted towards Saphira and the three of them joined their minds. They reached their thoughts toward the Eldunari trying to wake Glaedr from his stupor. Glaedr, however, ignored them taking only mere notice of their presence. At last they admitted defeat and withdrew to their respective bodies.
"Perhaps if we could touch his Eldunari…," Arya thought out loud.
Eragon sheathed Brisingr, then hopped onto Saphira's right foreleg and pulled himself into the saddle perched on the crest of her shoulders. He twisted round in his seat and began to work on the buckles of the saddlebags. He had unfastened one of the buckles and was picking at the other when the brazen call of a horn rang forth from the head of the Varden, sounding the advance. At the signal, the vast train of men and animals lurched forward, their movements hesitant at first, but becoming smoother and more confident with every step.
Eragon looked down at her looking torn but she waved and said, ""Tonight, we will speak tonight. Go! Fly with the wind!"
He quickly rebuckled the saddlebag, then slid his legs through the rows of straps on either side of the saddle and pulled them tight. Then Saphira crouched and, with a roar of joy, leaped out over the road. She unfurled her wings and flapped, climbing into the sky. Arya took one last look at Rider and Dragon. A sudden yearning erupted Inside of her.