Well, finally, my morning obligation is over, so I have a life at the beginning of the day and can now stop and think about writing! Enjoy this, the hopefully last chapter that ends up over a week late! Sorry about the inconvenience of my last uploads. I hope you like this one - I put a lot of time into figuring it out. I ended up having to close it sooner than I'd have like, so I apologize if the ending is a bit rushed, but I wanted to get it up TODAY. So enjoy!

-Chapter Eight: Fighting Shape

Eragon

"Well, what do you want me to do?" Eragon threw up his hands, pacing away from the mirrors. The faces of Nasuada, Arya, Garzvhog, Orik, Grimrr, and Orrin regarded him with various degrees of incredulity, exasperation, or simply weariness. "This is shaping up to be far worse than any of us could imagine. If anything of what Ayel's told me comes to a head-"

"But that's the very question," interrupted Orrin. "I'm not going to accuse him of lying, but how can we be sure his memories aren't tampered with… or simply imagined altogether? There's got to be a logical explanation for this black material other than evil forces that will destroy the world - again!"

Eragon was about to reply in kind, but Arya cut him off. "Orrin is right, but we can't throw away Ayel's input so lightly. His memories have been examined before. They can be again. If we were to take drastic action immediately, we might rush into a more complex problem than we can tell." Her voice was soothing, but her benign tone and the look on her face almost gave the impression that she was humoring him. Fortunately, Eragon knew she wasn't the type to do that; if he did something she thought was half-arsed, she told him so.

"What of the crystal?" asked Nasuada. "Or the shipwrecked victims? Any news?"

Orik stroked his extensive beard. "My knurlan find little. We can tell you that this black creep is the same material your students reported, brother, because its passive behavior matches. It be so that it erodes the stone and spreads like so many fingers throughout its pores. Other than that, it is no known substance to us or your kind."

"As for the bodies of the scientists," Arya began. "Trace amounts of the same thing were found in the folds of their clothes and in their wounds. They were killed by it, or by something manipulating it." She hesitated. "In the same way as the injured Fanghur, their flesh was eaten away in such places and the scraps of this… parasite had been trying to replace it."

Orrin sat back in his chair and put a hand to his forehead. Fatigue seemed to overwhelm him, but he still stuck to the matter at hand. "Remind me. What did he call it?"

"Ruin," said Eragon. "He was very serious. I'd even say spooked. But there was this hardness in his eyes; it ill became him. Usually he's pretty easygoing."

"His story savors not much of distraction." This came from Grimrr, who was cleaning his fangs. "My kind see much in this world and out of it. We have never seen this 'Ruin' with our own eyes until now."

Garzvhog made a feral noise that was neither affirmative nor the opposite. "My rams keep watch over the mountains. All we know is that the cloud over Vroengard grows. It bears an omen of destruction. In one of my people's epics, it is said that a great shock of death once took our world. Nyalatûkk's cloak ensnared all, and a great storm, of which form we cannot fathom, brought 'ruin' upon the land. That is what is written in our weavings of legend. The exact words."

"Not a Prophecy, I hope," said Nasuada.

"No," the Kull grunted. "But to believe the weavers, it has happened before and so may again."

Eragon paused in his pacing. "There we have it. Do you want to do something now? I'm sorry, but we don't have time to give you the full story or examine Ayel's memories. In a fight between two wolves, two sharks, whatever, whichever side hesitates when the time to attack comes, loses. I say first-strike capability is most important. Whatever we're up against isn't at strength enough to engage with us; or we'd be decimated already. We should send an expeditionary force to Vroengard." He held up a hand to their objections. "Not by ship this time. I'm asking to take my Riders."

Before she spoke, Arya made a furtive motion, but quickly checked it. Eragon suspected that if they hadn't been on opposite sides of the enchanted mirror, she would have put her hand on his arm. "We don't know if we are even up against anything yet," she said. "And what is there to attack? It would be headstrong to charge in, fires blazing, and find nothing… or worse, something beyond any of us." She seemed to choose her next words carefully. "Let us handle the pursuit of this matter. Finish the training of the Riders as far as you planned to, and then bring them to us. We can look into Ayel's recollections then."

"There is no way but this, brother," Orik agreed. The others made similar statements of concurrence.

Sighing, Eragon sat down heavily. "I just think it's unwise to wait until we might get invaded by a possible enemy at the height of their power. None of us want another war of any kind."

"With all due respect, Shadeslayer," said Orrin. "No enemy has yet been confirmed."

"He's got a point." Nasuada gave a grudging look in his direction.

Pride and indignance bristled inside the young Rider. "All right then," he said with a hint of venom. "I'll bring them for review like you asked, but on my own time. We'll finish up here and be gone your way in a few days. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a school to run." He snapped his fingers and the mirrors refracted light, turning once again into normal mirrors. They had all looked like they wanted to say something back. Too bad. I can make my own decisions now, and I'm going to do what's best for all of us. Eragon swiveled in the seat to get up and found himself face to face with Angela and Solembum. "What the hell are you two doing in my office?"

"Just thought you'd want to know," Angela said, breathless as if she'd just run flat out from the training field to the study. "They're fighting."

"Who?"

All of them. Solembum bared his teeth unpleasantly. Even in his human form, they were unerringly sharp.

"Let's go," said Eragon, already gathering his personal effects and heading out the door. Unauthorized fighting was a little worrying, especially because it was now unsupervised. The herbalist and small boy came behind him as quickly as they could. Carpeting perforated underneath their footfalls. As they double-timed it down the lengthy hall, an afterthought occurred to him. "Did they block the swords, at least?" he asked over his shoulder.

"I don't know." Was Angela's cheerful reply.

Eragon cursed.

Ayel

Ayel narrowed his eyes. His fingers tightened, wringing his two-handed grip on Hljödhr. In the evening sun, the amber sword almost glowed. He stood across from Beq on the beaten circle of dirt where most sparring was conducted. Dust shifted in the breeze, but neither of them made a move. Behind them, scuffing noises and the occasional sharp clang bore witness to Opheila practicing with Astrid nearby. Vaas was clearly visible, seated off to the side in a meditative pose, watching both duels intently.

It was rather appropriate that Beq wielded punching weapons, accounting for his boxer's build. On his left forearm was a modified buckler, made from reinforced hardwood and leather. In his right hand was what he had called a katar, an unusual device used by the nomads. It consisted of two sets of parallel rods, two long and two short running in between. The first short rod was a grip, and from the second sprouted a wide, slightly curved triangular blade. The katar was held so that the longer rods flanked the user's arm on top and bottom and the blade could be angled for thrusts and slashes. It looked funny, but it was more than a match for a sword in the hands of an artist like Beq. Rhunön had reworked it out of purple Brightsteel.

On the other hand, Ayel had certain advantages with his own weapon. Hljödhr could be used with one or two hands, was quick but heavy enough to add force to his cuts, and kept the opponent at a considerable distance. Conversely, if Beq got in close, it was difficult to get away using conventional tactics, since the katarn style had no interest in fighting exclusively with the weapon. The two human men were about as evenly matched as you could get, and the current record was four and three in Ayel's favor. Even though he'd claimed more victories, Ayel sensed his only real superiority to Beq was in experience. He'd been training longer – or he thought he had; he didn't know for sure.

For the last couple of hours, the group had been dueling repeatedly to test each other out. So far the scoring was rather complicated. Ayel and Beq were generally the best fighters, but Vaas was about as skilled, just disadvantaged by size and lack of speed. Opheila was the smartest, as always, but if forced into a contest of simple swordplay was only a hair above average. Astrid had had less training than any of them, and seemed to bear no innate desire to improve, but had accepted their offers to practice with her nonetheless. She had beaten one of them, Ayel, in fact, who had hesitated before delivering a final blow and taken a lucky (if accidental) axe strike to the gut. Note to self: dual-bladed bearded axes hurt. Undeniably, the tiny girl was remarkably strong to wield such a weapon. Bearded axes were more often single bladed because of weight balance.

While that was all tied up, it was down to Ayel and Beq to settle their score (in their method of sparring, you had to win by a difference of two matches) and then the whole gang would move on to archery. Honing their combat skills was the brilliant idea of Angela, but of course she wouldn't tell Eragon that; he was too busy and besides he hadn't given her permission to set them going hammer and tongs anyway. They were allowed to fight on their own, but encouraged to make sure someone of authority knew about it. The dragons, who were wrestling at the other end of the field, had feigned ignorance of this rule.

For a moment, Ayel was distracted as Ithros threw Jeran to the ground. If you're going to hold your talons that high, stay low until you close with your opponent, the black dragon instructed. Otherwise, protect your waist passively instead of your chest. You'll move to block faster. Jeran flipped onto his paws and charged again, claws sheathed. While his attention was on the two dragons, a flicker of movement in his peripheral vision prompted Ayel to instinctively duck. A buckler strike that probably would've knocked him out whistled over his head. He pivoted and rolled backward as Beq followed up with a downward slash. Though blocked like all the other weapons, the katar was just as effective as a bludgeon and had already given the shorter boy a number of bruises.

Ayel's recovery put him on his feet and ready to catch the incoming jab. His blade crossed diagonally over his chest, pushing Beq's arm down. As added insurance, he stepped to his right just an inch so that the dark-skinned boy couldn't lash out with his buckler. Beq set his mouth into a thin line and pushed. He was taller that Ayel, who was none too tall, but high enough off the ground to look Eragon in the eyes, and no doubt he was stronger, too, judging by the powerful muscles in his arms. His black hair was cut severely short, and almost made him appear bald, unlike Ayel who wore his raven locks in a look that could be called "shaggy" but wasn't quite neck length.

The two teens struggled back and forth, and after a few moments of impressive resistance, Ayel sensed he was about to be overpowered and broke the saber-lock, stepping back and raising the tip of his sword. Beq advanced, alternately slashing and punching, while Ayel backed away to try and gain some distance so he could control the fight better. This pattern always ended the same: they eventually got tired of dancing and struck, but they were close enough that one of them couldn't hit the other without being hit himself. If the match continued that way, Ayel knew Beq would wear him down. He needed to change tactics.

Angling Hljödhr down so it wouldn't get in the way, he dodged the next attack, then grabbed the rim of the buckler and dove to the side. The straps came away with less resistance than he expected, and he heard Beq's grunt of surprise as both Ayel and his shield fell away. The smaller fighter skidded and picked himself up, gripping his sunset blade in a defensive stance. In front of him, Beq mirrored the pose, raising the katar and putting up his hand slightly behind it. Without his buckler, he'd use his left hand to grapple – which was exactly what Ayel wanted him to do.

This time, Ayel rushed in and started to drive his counterpart back with heavy, quick strikes. After a clumsy vertical sweep, Beq twisted to the side and grabbed Ayel's wrist. Expecting this, Ayel immediately swung his legs off the ground and jammed his toes into the crook of Beq's knees. The wiry, lean boy took his larger opponent to the ground with his own momentum, something he'd learned from privately rehearsing such grapples with Vaas. The Urgal was a tough fighter, and had let Ayel win a few times to help demonstrate how to tackle a larger enemy.

As they fell, Ayel had intended to drop his elbow into Beq's stomach, but the blacksmith's apprentice smothered the blow and flipped him onto his back so that both of them were flat on the ground. He then reached to his side and swept his arm into the air, driving his recovered katar into the dirt next to Ayel's neck. The inscription on the violet blade said, Haraviand. Desert Storm. He sat there, breathing hard, unwilling to move because of the lethal weapon barely a millimeter from his throat.

Beq stood up and stretched, cracking his back. He bent and pulled the katar out of the sand. "I win. That was a good takedown." He offered a callused hand.

Ayel took it and pulled himself to his feet. "I just need to work on the finisher. I gave you too much time to react."

A shadow dramatically engulfed the two of them; Vaas had decided to stand. The Kull had his greatsword, Wind Cutter, strapped to his back. His dark eyes gleamed under the bristly head of hair surrounding the base of his horns. "Rather than deciding or knowing what you're going to do, wait for the moment where you have to do it and let your instincts do the work. If your intention is to put someone out of the fight, your body will do it. If your intention is to kill, your body will do it. That is how we fight without guilt: rather than premeditating a kill, we allow our reflexes to decide what is necessary." He cracked a grim smile and draped an arm over each of his friends' shoulders, which nearly bowled them over. "Now I believe we are keeping the ladies waiting."

Across the field, the dragons were now breathing fire at various things for their amusement. Watch you don't set the whole field aflame, warned Ayel. These weeds can catch on quicker than you'd think.

I know what I'm doing, Jeran scoffed. Go talk to your girlfriend.

She's not my – oh, forget it.

Opheila and Astrid were already over by the shooting range and were testing the draw of one of the bows for Astrid. "If you're shooting with your right hand, put your left foot forward," she was saying patiently. "Can you nock?"

Astrid nodded, having pulled the string of the small bow all the way back. Ayel knew little about archery, but it seemed the weapon was a good fit for her small stature. The dwarven girl drew an arrow from the quiver on her hip and set it to the string.

"Now we have to find the center of your aim. Sight on the target as best you can." She waited for Astrid to do so. "Close your eyes and breathe deeply, and then open them. If you're not still on target, change your stance."

Astrid blew her golden hair out of her eyes and shifted, almost imperceptibly, where she stood. She loosed the arrow. It flew straight and with a zzzzzzzip - Thunk! buried itself in the target maybe six inches from the center. The look on her face was priceless; she really couldn't believe that she'd made the shot. "Wow… I didn't think I'd actually hit it…"

"Of course you did." Opheila patted her arm. "You're a natural. And you had me, of course." She tossed her hair back in mock arrogance and Astrid laughed nervously. Before long her laser-blue eyes found Ayel. "What about you, Mr. Dreamy Eyes? Do you shoot?"

"Number one, no, I don't think I've ever shot a bow. Number two, when did that become my official title?" Ayel crossed his arms and waited for her response calmly.

"Let's see…" she put a finger to her lips in mock contemplation. Then she put on an exaggeratedly flirtatious grin and yelled, "Are you saying my eyes are intense?" Everyone except Ayel laughed at what was actually a pretty good impression of his voice.

He shrugged. "Hey, you said it first. Not me." Walking over to the weapons rack, he picked up a bow and tested the draw as he'd seen Astrid do. The string almost snapped in his hand, so he found another, and then another, rifling through the arraignment of lengths and pulls until he found one he thought he liked. "Are we doing this or what?"

Behind him to the left, he heard Vaas mutter something that sounded like, "Playful banter, check."

Opheila raised her eyebrows and walked to meet him by the targets. "With a bow like that you'll want to come farther back. Here." She led him a few paces away. "Now take your draw."

Ayel pulled the drawstring back and felt the bow resist him, but his strength was matched well and he got it as far as it could go.

"Don't wear out the line just yet," she advised. "Nock one and show me your sight."

Taking the arrow she handed him, he set it to and pulled, aimed. He led with his left foot and held the fletching of the arrow in his right. Closing his eyes, he breathed in and out, then opened them and found the arrowhead no longer lined up with the target. He adjusted his pose and re-sighted.

Opheila smacked him between the shoulder blades. "Stop slouching." He tried to straighten up, but apparently it wasn't good enough because she put a firm hand on his stomach from behind. "Hold more tension right here. It'll keep your upper body still."

"Unnecessary physical contact, check," whispered Vaas.

Tuning out his friend, with whom he would be having words later, Ayel did as she instructed and breathed again. Inhale. Exhale. Loose. He opened his hand as the arrow let fly. For a moment, it looked like it was going to strike dead center, but it suddenly veered, clipped the edge of the circular target, and clattered to the stones set beneath.

Ayel sighed. "Told ya. These hands weren't made for shootin'."

"Nonsense. "We can work with that," the pressure from Opheila's hand disappeared and she started bustling around with equipment table while still talking in a businesslike tone. The part of Ayel that wasn't listening to her wondered why she hadn't let go of him earlier. "We'll just need to find out if the problem is here –" she tapped the bow he was holding, "- or here." She poked him on the side of his head. "Now, Arya told me Eragon is a dead aim with his bow. I wonder where he could be." Still pondering, Opheila wandered over to the main doors leading back into the castle.

"Rapid change of the subject and removal from the vicinity, check," said Vaas. "I tell you, one of these days those two are gonna get hitched."

"Stuff it, hornhead." Ayel was listening because a sort of whooshing noise was getting louder and louder as they spoke. When it finally came to a head, a giant blue object came crashing down from the sky. It took a second to recognize Saphira because they were used to being around much smaller dragons. Eragon swung out of the saddle and leaped athletically down from her flank.

"Anyone want to tell me what's going –"

GANGWAY! All five of the other dragons shot forward and tackled Saphira, a cluster of wings and tails enveloping her before she finally broke out and trapped them, one by one, under each paw, and then Jeran, the fifth and smallest, ended up under her tail.

Hold still, hatchlings, she scolded. This is not the time for games.

Opheila returned to the group with Angela and Solembum, who had come out through the castle doors. "What's the matter, ebrithil?" she asked, curious.

Eragon looked them all in the eye and took a breath. "We're taking a little trip."