I was up just as the grey light of dawn began to filter into the cavernous hollow mountain.

I had been given one of the rooms in Arya's apartments. It was a spacious, but simply decorated room, with a lovely view of the white marble city. Bathed and dressed with a good night's sleep under my belt it was hard to feel too grim about things. The previous day's afternoon had been a peaceful one spent with Murtagh and Saphira and then Eragon when he returned from his visit with Angela. It had not been awkward in the slightest, but rather like the times we used to share before Gil'ead. We had talked of easy things and laughed over bad jokes. Ah, how I wished I could have paused time right there and then for these quiet moments were rare. I wanted to treasure them forever for - of course - I might never get to experience them again.

Shaking my head to clear my thoughts I could not help but wonder how long until the battle began. Was this my last day of rest and preparation?

I sighed and finished buckling my arm braces on, braided my hair back and moved towards the door. I was nearly at the door, already thinking of where I could wander, when I caught a glimpse of an unfamiliar face. I stopped, surprised, and realized that I was staring into a mirror and that there was not someone in my room.

Have you ever gone months without seeing a clear reflection of your face? Have you lost your identity and been told to replace it with another? Have you come face to face with a face that you do not recognize but is, in fact, yours?

I moved closer to the mirror and stared at the perfectly clear reflection that stared back at me. Unconsciously one hand rose and touched the smooth surface; the girl in the mirror copied the action. But how could the girl in the mirror be me? How could this beautiful, high cheekbone face with no trace of lingering child roundness and innocence be my own? Looking back at me was not a girl on the very edge of adulthood but still clinging tightly to last vestiges of her childhood. This was a young woman with eyes shuttered and closed, a slender figure and a proud look to her. Her hair had lost streaks of red and lighter brown and was now a deep, rich dark mahogany that was nearly black. This girl had no splattering of freckles across her nose nor did she have that wide-eyed, deer-in-the-headlight look to her or any softness to her jaw. Her battle with poison and illness had given her a slightly starved appearance, a slightly too thin face with a haunted set to her mouth.

What had happened to the girl who would drop her eyes? Who let her hair grow long so she could cover her face and who hated her nose because it was too big?

The face that looked back at me was cool and proud. It was the face of a young woman, grown and sure of herself who had seen the world. It was very similar to the face of the woman I had seen in the throne room standing behind the King. This was me. This was the Zoe that traveled in the company of a dragon and her Rider, had fought and killed, been imprisoned, survived a lethal poison and was unlocking her blocked memories.

I dropped my hand from the mirror and stared into my reflection.

This was a Crown Princess and this was me.

There was something very final about seeing my face and staring to my eyes. I had changed, grown and remembered. It showed. It showed upon my face and it was such a change that I could not fully grasp it right then.

Turning away, unable to continue examining myself, I left the room and walked back out into the main room. Arya's door was closed but Murtagh's was open suggesting that he had already left. Feeling restless I left the rooms and began to wander down the hallways of the city not really going anywhere.

At last, after wandering through many empty corridors and gardens, I found myself standing on an open balcony that overlooked the central chamber. I had seen no one on my walk and I wondered if the Varden's women and children had already left in preparation for the upcoming battle. I vaguely remembered Arya telling me something of the sort and it would make sense that they would leave now along with the dwarves who would not be fighting. I glanced up at the shimmering rose jewel and wondered if Eragon was awake yet and whether or not I should I contact him mentally.

My musings were interrupted when I heard the soft sounds of someone walking not far away. Keeping myself relaxed I turned and saw a dark-skinned, black-haired woman walking towards me from the opposite direction. She was reading some papers as she walked. There was only one person she could be: Nasuada daughter of Ajihad. Perhaps, if things went as I had read they would, this would be the next leader of this entire army. Her face, while furrowed in concentration, was proud and striking but there was something...something almost bitter about her. A kind of bitterness as if this striking Lady longed for another life and yet had been stifled her entire life and forced to remain in the shadows while others claimed glory for themselves. A bright red apple, appearing shiny and at the full bloom on first glance but in reality it was rotten at the core.

Nasuada did not notice me until she was a few feet away and, when she did, she stopped dead and one hand went immediately to the jeweled dagger hanging decoratively at her side. I could not help but smile, amused at the thought of a small ceremonial dagger challenging my own sword. It would be a fight to remember.

Keeping my smile I said, "Good morning."

Nasuada recovered herself and said, "Good morning. I do not believe we have met my lady."

"No," I said, "but my name is Zoe and you must be the Lady Nasuada."

Her eyes widened slightly but she nodded and moved a little closer, shifting the papers in her hands and said, "Of course. It is an honor to meet you."

I just smiled slightly and asked, "The city seems quiet this morning?"

"Yes," agreed Nasuada, "many have already left for the valleys close by until the upcoming battle is decided. They are accompanied by a few warriors but not enough to offer any kind of protection if the Urgals did move to attack them."

Turning back to look out over the empty chamber I asked, "Will you go?" I already knew her feelings on the matter but I wanted to hear the words spoken by her. I did not want to be left to my nervous mind which was conjuring up images of Urgals, blood, fighting and, above all, death. Death upon death and more death.

Nasuada bit her lip and moved closer until she was standing beside me. "I do not wish to go but my father wants me to."

I raised an eyebrow and met her hard eyes, "So? Will you obey your father or the desires of your heart?"

Looking away from me, Nasuada ran a hand along the smooth stone of the balcony while the other pressed the papers tightly against her chest, making them crinkle. "I do not know. You are lucky my lady," she paused and looked at me closely as if to pull answers out of me. "No one would demand you leave. You have earned both my father and the Varden's respect. You can stay and fight for those you care about while I am must be safely sent away."

I heard the note of bitterness mixed with anger. It confirmed by suspicions. The Lady of the Varden was desperate to prove herself, not only to her father but to the people she considered her own. We were similar, the two of us, in our wish to fight for those we cared for but very different to. She was more courageous then I and more sure of what she wanted in this world.

I sighed and looked away from the woman beside me, "There is no shame in not fighting Nasuada. No shame at all. Yet I know where you are coming from. I too had to struggle against those who felt that a woman's place was at home and not on the battle field." Nasuada opened her mouth to speak but I shook my head and continued, "Know this my lady, if you feel that your reasons for fighting are just then I encourage you to act on them. If you are skilled enough to protect not only yourself but those you fit for then remain. However, if your reasons are founded on pride and the desire to prove yourself then you would be more useful helping the women and children who will be losing loved ones in this battle."

Silence fell between us and Nasuarda refused to meet my gaze. When she spoke again her words had a hard edge to them though they were still polite. "Your words are true my lady and I will consider them but…" here she paused again and I wondered if she was blushing. There was a faint color in her cheeks that could only mean she felt squeamish about something, but what could it be? "Did Lord Murtagh tell you that I spoke with him yesterday?"

It was such a non-sequitur that I blinked in surprise before saying, "No. No he didn't. Why? What did he say?" I inwardly groaned at the thought that Murtagh had said something completely inappropriate to the daughter of Ajihad because he was in a bad mood

"My father bid me to speak with him in the hopes that he would feel more welcomed by the Varden but I fear that I may have made him feel as if I was trying to discover more than I really was. He mentioned that he was to meet you and I merely wondered if he mentioned our conversation. I would ask you whether or not I should apologize to him."

I had to restrain myself from snorting in amusement. Apologize to Murtagh? Ah, that would be interesting but I did not say that. Instead, I shrugged and said, "Murtagh is wary and I would not take it personally. Added natural mistrust is worry for the upcoming battle. You can apologize to him if you want and see what he does. He is kind under the surface and loyal to the end. As for him not mentioning your conversation...it is not surprising. We had other things to speak of and Murtagh may not have wanted to discuss it with Eragon, Saphira and I."

Nasuada nodded and then said, "I must go. My father needs my assistance."

"One more thing," I said before she could leave. "If you do stay for this battle then find me. I would like to know your choice one way or the other."

"Why?" asked Nasuada. "You wouldn't tell my father would you?"

I laughed lightly at the suspicion in her voice and the slight narrowing of her eyes as she gazed at me. "No, I mean nothing of the kind. I ask that of you because this is going to be your first battle and I would rather know to keep an eye out for you before the battle begins than halfway through it!" My smile disarmed the last of her defenses and she gave me a true smile, the tense worry in her face easing a little as she relaxed.

"Ah," she said, "I will let you know."

With that she left and I turned back to look over the central chamber. My heart fluttered uneasily in my chest as I considered what was waiting in my future. Gripping the hilt of my sword tightly I left the balcony and retraced my steps to my room. Perhaps I could discover where breakfast was not that I really felt like eating. Or, even better, I could go visit my poor mare. I had neglected her these last few weeks and I could only hope she would find it in her heart to forgive me. My steps speeding up I asked a passing dwarf for directions and made my way to the stables. A day spent with my horse was a day well spent in my books.

Brom stopped in front of an open window that overlooked the entire city. The women and children had gone early that morning and the dwarves were currently preparing for the battle. Windows were being barred, traps were being set down tunnels and the first few streets, walls and gates were being fortified and warriors readied. I am old, thought Brom as he regarded the unfolding scene before him, and I have seen many things but this battle will be the start of something I have never seen or planned on seeing. This battle will be the first of many.

Sighing the man dropped his head and took a few steadying breaths. War was the only way – they had exhausted all other paths. This he knew but he despised it. He hated the thought of sending his only son into the all-out carnage of battle and, yet, he must for his son was now a Rider. For good or ill Eragon was a crucial part of the upcoming storm. It was for his sake that so many would die and sacrifice not only themselves but their families. How he wished, as a father, that he had never gone to Carvahall and that his son would never have been forced to raise a sword. As a father he had failed in the most basic of ways - to keep his son safe.

Trying to clear his mind of the poisonous thoughts Brom turned and began to walk down the empty, white marble corridor. The hours of idleness leading up to a battle were the worst and the old storyteller knew that all too well. With nowhere to be, no one to see and nowhere in particular he should go, Brom chose the only place he was certain he would not be disturbed: the library.

He could lose himself in the words of some old tome in a quiet corner of the library and leave the dealings of the Varden to its current leader. It was times like this that he was glad he had refused to continue leading the organization and times like this that he wished they had never needed to begin it. He wished that Zoe had come before the Fall, had stopped Galbatorix long before he began his vicious path of revenge that left the land saturated in blood and rage.

Brom could hear the sounds already and smell the hot blood and smoke.

A shiver raced down his spine.

Soon.

Too soon and, yet, not soon enough.

Saphira woke Eragon with a sharp rap of her snout, bruising him with her hard jaw.

"Ouch!" he exclaimed, sitting upright. The cave was dark except for the faint glow emanating from the shuttered lantern.

Zoe has just sent for us. We are to meet them in them in Ajihad's study. Orik is waiting for us.

Did she say anything else? asked Eragon as he rubbed the bruise on his forehead. Talk about rude awakening, he thought irritably as he forced his body up.

Just that you should come armed and that the time for battle is almost upon us.

Understanding immediately, Eragon leapt to his feet as all thoughts of irritation and sleep vanished from him. As quickly as he could he dressed and belted his sword on as well as his bow and quiver. He could not help the yawn that escaped him as Saphira launched herself from the cave and spiraled down to the central chamber where Orik, tapping his ax anxiously against the marble floor, was waiting for them. The dwarf looked tense and his craggy face was fixed in a dark frown.

"Come, the others are waiting."

He led them through Tronjheim to Ajihad's study. Nothing was said between the three, they knew what would be discussed in the study and what it would mean and they saw no reason to speak of it unnecessarily.

The large study door was opened by a pair of burly guards who, like always, made no sign of acknowledgement as the three passed inside. Ajihad stood behind his desk, bleakly inspecting a map with Brom. Arya and a man with wiry arms were there as well, both armed and looking grim faced. Both Zoe and Murtagh were standing beside them looking equally grim and Zoe, her face still bearing signs of her long illness, was looking particularly worn and haunted.

Ajihad looked up as they entered. "Good, you're here, Eragon. Meet Jörmundur, my second in command."

They acknowledged each other and Zoe gave him a warm smile that faltered in the chilly, tense air of the study but then all attention was turned back to Ajihad. The silence in the room was oppressive.

The man, leaning heavily against the desk, spoke in a low monotone. "A dwarven sentry has just returned from scouting. He was injured but he was able to tell us that an army of Urgals was on its way here. It is maybe a day's march away but no less. We have been preparing for this but we did not know exactly when or how they would come."

Jörmunder swore under his breath but everyone else was silent as they watched the man at the desk. Ajihad continued, gesturing at the map as he continued to explain. "The Urgals are not approaching over land but under it. They're in the tunnels...we're going to be attacked from below."

Again silence met Ajihad's words but it was broken by Zoe. "Then we should prepare for them." Her voice was firm and she seemed the only one not frozen in place by the information that had just been delivered with such finality by Ajihad. Moving forward, the girl traced a finger along a line that represented a tunnel, "If we force them to surface in a few locations then we can more easily contain them and prevent them from entering the city by breaking the floor. Do you have an estimate on their numbers?"

Ajihad looked at her carefully. "No," he said at last. "I am not even sure that there are troops with them or not. If Galbatorix has augmented the Urgals' ranks with his own men, then we don't stand a chance. But if hasn't then we might be able to succeed. We are alone in this battle with no reinforcements either from other dwarf cities, Orrin or from the elves. As for the battle plan, you are correct, my lady. We are going to collapse select tunnels but the task is too big for normal means. Two groups of dwarves are already working on it: one outside Tronjheim, the other beneath it. Eragon you are to work with the group outside. Arya, you'll be with the one underground; Orik will guide you to them."

Eragon nodded in understanding and with that he, Arya and Saphira left the study with Orik. He did not glance back though he could feel Brom's heavy gaze upon him. Before the battle began he would have to speak with his father but not then. Eragon was unsure what to say or if anything should be said.

Sighing, the young Rider wondered what was going to happen now. The fate of the entire Varden rested on them now. Neither the elves nor Surda could come to their aid now. No, they were alone in this fight and Eragon was painfully aware of how small their forces were. This would be a hard battle and, even worse, it would be his first. The very idea sent stabs of fear into his chest. He had never had the chance to anticipate a fight before and now that he did, it filled him with cold dread.

One hand automatically came up and rested against Saphira's warm side as they moved through the echoing halls.

We are alone, Saphira.

Never alone, she replied, we are never alone.

When Eragon and the others left, Ajihad turned to look at Jörmunder and Murtagh who waited at attention for orders. "Jörmunder, ready the men to fight. Murtagh you know your own skills best but perhaps you can assist in outfitting the men for battle?"

Murtagh gave a short, brisk nod and said, "I can assist in that."

Ajihad waved a hand and said, "Then go."

With that the two left thought Murtagh glanced back at me briefly before following Jörmunder out of the room. I turned back and met the steely gaze of the man in front of me. Brom stood silently beside Ajihad and I wondered what his thoughts were. His face was set in a grim mask that betrayed nothing. Only the way his eyes had lingered on Eragon and Saphira as they left had given me any indication of how worried he truly was for the Rider.

In a soft, dangerous voice Ajihad snapped me back to the present. "Is there anything you will tell me about this battle or will you send us into it with nothing but blind faith?"

I sighed but controlled my irritation for Ajihad's words were justified and, already, I could see that he was planning his people's final funeral. He did not expect to live through the next night. He did not expect many of his men, if any of them, to live to the following evening and it was tearing at him just as it would tear at any other commander.

"What can I tell you?" I asked gently. "From what I know there are no troops with the Urgals. I suspect that Durza will be involved in this fight." I looked down at the map, "I also suspect that, if he can be destroyed, then Urgal forces will splinter without the aid of the Shade's magic to hold them together. If I know anything of the Shade then I would say that Durza will not lead the charge for it is not his favored style of fighting but rather come when the Varden has been weakened by the Urgals."

When Eragon has been weakened and he can capture the Rider and dragon easily and with little effort. He shall wait till then. He shall wait until our men have spent themselves and there is no one strong enough to stand between him and his prize. You know this Ajihad. You know this and you do not need me to tell you.

Ajihad's gaze softened a little and he turned back to the map. "You agree with the plan then?"

I shrugged and said, "I can see no other options. You cannot let the Urgals break into the city but neither do you have enough men to guard the entire perimeter. The only thing I suggest is to plant traps at the entrance of each tunnel in the hopes you can kill as many without killing your own men in open combat."

Ajihad was watching me curiously, "You have fought in a battle before."

I grimaced as memories skirted through my head briefly and too quickly for me to clearly see them. My words purposely vague I said simply, "I have fought enough and spent a great deal of time with those who have."

Brom's eyes opened a little in surprise and I wondered how long it would be before he demanded an explanation. Not long, I thought wryly. That old man hated people keeping secrets from him despite the number he kept.

Ajihad just nodded and said, "Where do you feel you would be most useful?"

"I will join Murtagh." After a curt dismissive nod, I left the room and began to walk down the empty corridors that seemed to emit a faint chill. The coldness made me shiver and my footsteps unconsciously quickened. Murtagh would be in the armory fitting men and I needed something to do or I would lose my mind completely.

I was at the end of the corridor when, to my utmost surprise, an arm suddenly reached out and grabbed my upper arm, yanking me into an empty study. I struggled but a familiar voice said, "Stop! It's me!"

I did stop – more like froze – and stared at the hooded figure as I searched for some distinctive feature to confirm that it was who I thought it was. The figure, after a brief moment of hesitation, pushed the hood of the cloak back a little to reveal the dark skin and brown eyes of…Nasuada.

"What do you think you are doing?" I demanded. I was furious that I had just been grabbed and yanked into a dusty, unused study by this girl. Well…perhaps I should call her 'young woman' but I was hardly impressed by this attempt at secrecy.

"Shhh!" whispered Nasuada glancing at the door as if she feared her father was going to be bursting in any moment in the next few. "You asked me to tell me if I would stay and I will."

"Right," I said my anger dissipating as quickly as it had come. "Well, thank you for telling me. Where will you be posted?"

Her hands twisted nervously before her, "With the archers."

I nodded and glanced at the window and noticed men beginning to gather at the front gates of the city mountain. "That is safe enough for your first battle, I suppose." She gave a weak smile and, meeting her gaze I said with a gesture towards the window, "I need to go and so do you."

I tried to smile a little but failed. Smiling just does not work when you are in these sorts of situations so, instead, I gave her half embrace and left the room before hurrying down the corridors toward the armory which was located beside the main gates of the city.

I found Murtagh using a piece of string to measure men and fit them with the correct sized weapons and armor. He glanced up briefly when I entered and asked, "What did he want?"

"Just to ask if there was anything I could add to what was already said." I took a half-seat on the edge of a table laden with swords.

"And?" asked Murtagh as he passed the man he had been assisting a spear and then gestured at the next one in line.

I shrugged, "I couldn't add much. What happens in this battle is beyond my control."

Not that any of it really is in my control, Murtagh. I just like to pretend it is because pretending such things is easier then saying they are so out of my control that I don't know what to do.

Murtagh nodded and directed the man before him towards a row of shields and plate armor. "Want to help?"

"Love to," I said and gratefully accepted a piece of string from Murtagh.

Before long any chance at having a conversation with Murtagh was lost as we found the Varden's soldiers their weapons and armor. I also spoke with many of them for they seemed kind and honest. Meeting them and speaking with them made my heart ache for, of course, many these men would not survive the following day. Not only that but many of them were married and spoke proudly of their children, their eyes glinting with fatherly pride when I inquired. My memories had returned enough for me to remember similar conversations with men in my father's and then my brother's army. Many of those men had been similar to the ones who came to me for the weapons now. I almost felt as if I had been transported back to those times when it had been not been Murtagh helping match weapons and armor but Eomund or Pethred or one of my cousins. What would dear brothers have said if they could see me now? What would they have said? Or any one of the many lords and advisors I had dealt with back home?

I don't know what they would have said.

I did not remember enough to know and that hurt worst of all.

At long last, after many hours of constant motion back and forth through the tent, the lines of warriors ceased and I was able to sit down on a now emptied table. Murtagh joined me and we sat in silence, both forced to remember what we were preparing for. The constant motion had eased the worry and now it came back full force.

I glanced around and saw a number of dwarves gathering at the entrance to Tronjheim. They were dressed in heavy battle gear with burnished steel hauberks, thick round shields, stamped with the crests of their clan and short swords at their waists. In their hands they carried mattocks or war axes, heavy things that made me cringe slightly just to look at them. There was no grace in the way a dwarf fought only brute strength and heavy swings.

It works and that is the only thing that matters in the end.

You just have to get through it. Heroic deeds and all that is usually the last thing in your mind because those deeply ingrained survival instincts come out full force. You are not thinking of saving the day or being sung of in songs but, instead, of living to see the dawn and taking another breath, allowing you heart to beat for a little longer.

Suddenly Murtagh spoke, "I suppose we should get ourselves ready." His words hung in the air and seemed to echo through the now empty room.

Neither of us wanted to move. Neither of us wanted to act or come any close to what was coming but we had no choice.

"Yes." I said but made no move to leave. Summoning the shreds of my pitiful courage I stood and said, "I'm going to go find something to eat and then try and find some armor. I suppose I'll also have to go get Melynlas to." My words seemed to break the spell that had settled over the two of us.

"Good idea," said Murtagh and with that we separated with Murtagh going back to the rooms we shared with Arya for his weapons and me going off to locate some armor that would actually fit.

I found it quite by accident and only because of Orik. I had paused to speak with Eragon and Saphira who had just finished collapsing the last of tunnels and mentioned my need for proper fighting gear. Orik had smiled and said, "Don't you worry about that girl. King Hrothgar has had his treasury searched for suitable armor for both you and Eragon. Along with human armor we discovered a full set of dragon armor which is exceedingly rare." The dwarf was clad like his kin and his own war ax was strapped across his back.

Saphira had been more than exceedingly pleased to hear that and even more pleased when she saw the armor. It was silver with golden scroll work along the edges and, after a great deal of swearing, tugging and pulling the three of us managed to get it all on her. I will admit: a dragon in armor is more terrifying then they have any right to be.

The armor protected Saphira from the tip of her nose to very tip of her tail. It had been designed so that Saphira had full range of motion but it would still protect her softer underbelly and sides from the jagged weapons that the Urgal's wielded.

Well? she asked. How do I look?

"Terrifying," I said sincerely. "Truly terrifying. I would hate to be on the wrong side of you Saphira." This made her give a rather large, toothy dragon smile which fully exposed all her shining white and very large teeth. I winced.

"So would I," said Orik under his breath. I smiled in amusement and shared a glance with Eragon who looked like he was struggling not to laugh but managed to cover it with a few well-placed coughs.

"I didn't know they made armor for dragons," said Eragon.

"Full sets are rare because dragons keep growing," explained Orik. "This set has languished in the treasury for centuries but it will serve you well Saphira, or at least until you outgrow it. But at least it fits you now, can't have you going into battle unprotected!" With that the dwarf clapped his hands and turned to the smaller piles of metal that had been brought with the dragon armor. "These are for you two. Hrothgar knew that both of you would need to be suitably outfitted for the battle and so these were found."

I moved forward curiously, "Why would Hrothgar send armor for me?" I asked. "We haven't even met."

"Ah," said Orik with a mysterious smile, "but he has heard of you and I wouldn't be surprised if Brom informed him of your need as well. You have become rather famous among the Varden, Zoe, and even the dwarves speak of you."

I colored slightly in embarrassment as Eragon elbowed me in the ribs. In a teasing voice he said, "Famous Zoe? You?"

I elbowed him right back and muttered, "You're not one to talk Rider."

He just shook his head and began to examine his new armor. My own was simple in design and surprisingly light all considering. It was made out of unpolished metal that had little design on it - just the way I wanted my armor to be. I held it up so I could examine it and I could not help but wonder whether or not I wanted to wear the whole sha-bang. It would be very heavy by the end of the battle no matter how light it felt now and, from the faint memories I could recall, I had never liked fighting in all out armor. No, I would wear the basic parts like the shoulder guards and thin, leather backed mail shirt but leave the chest plate, greaves and the helm. Heavy battle gear would only hinder me as the fight dragged on.

I am only girl after all and I can only cart around so much.

I slipped my black leather over shirt off and unbuckled my arm braces as I donned the mail shirt which fell to mid-thigh over that went my leather over shirt/jacket design that I had had since arriving in Alagaesia and then my braces, the shoulder guards and then my weapons. I had collected a few knives as well from the armory. One went up my arm bracer, another in my boot and a third was slipped in my belt in easy reach. With my weapons firmly strapped on, a green cloak fastened over my shoulders and my light armor, I felt ready for what was to come. The comforting weight of my hunting horn at my hip made me feel slightly better.

When I say I felt ready for what was to come….well to be honest I am not. I will never be ready but time was running out and we were speeding onwards.

Once I was ready I looked over at Eragon. His armor was bright with a gold and silver helm, leather backed mail and then a broad shield emblazoned with an oak tree. He gave me a tense smile and said, "Well? Did I put it on right?" I appreciated his attempts at levity, at finding something worth smiling about right then.

"I suppose so," I said rolling my eyes as I played along with it. "But only because of Orik."

The dwarf gave a hearty chuckled as he gathered up the remains of my armor and sent them off with another dwarf. Eragon gave Orik a small bow and said, "Thank you for these gifts. They could not come at a better time."

"Indeed," I said gratefully. "I did not relish the idea of going into battle with nothing on!"

"Wait till it saves your life," said Orik with a small smile. "Then you can say thank-you." With that he left to oversee his kinsmen in the fortifications being built for the archers. Groups of armed men were already preparing the traps that would be set around the entrances of the tunnels were the Urgals would be forced up.

It was then that Murtagh appeared. He was dressed in plain, Varden armor and was leading two horses. One was Tornac and the other was Melynlas. My mare was saddled and bridled. She was sporting a thin plate of armor across her broad forehead which continued down to her nose. It would offer a little protection to my brave mare. I smiled and gratefully accepted the reins from Murtagh. "Thank you," I said. He nodded and greeted Eragon and Saphira before saying.

"I met Brom and he informed me that Ajihad is looking for you Eragon, Saphira. He is over by the main gates."

"Right," said Eragon before heading off with Saphira. I glanced around, looking for a familiar face but finding only the grim faces of the warriors and dwarves.

Murtagh shook his head and said, "I don't know if we're going to survive this Zoe."

"Don't say that!" I snapped. "We will, we have to Murtagh. Now come on. I want to find out where we are supposed to go." With that I led my mare with Murtagh trailing behind over towards where Ajihad was rumored to be. I met him and Brom halfway there.

"Zoe," said Brom with a grim smile. "Murtagh. We were just looking for you."

"Yes," said Ajihad. "Eragon has informed me that you, Zoe and you, Murtagh, are able to communicate through your minds. During this battle that skill will be of key importance and so we have created a system where Brom will direct you from inside Tronjheim. He will send you where you are most needed or warn you if he feels you need it."

We both nodded in understanding and I breathed a small sigh of relief. At least I did not have to worry about Brom in this fight.

Brom began to speak, "The two of you will be with Eragon at the third tunnel under Jörmunder's command. Arya will also join you."

"Anything else?" I asked.

"No," said Ajihad, "Only to thank the two of you for your assistance."

Murtagh inclined his head and said, "Speak not of it, my lord."

I nodded and said, "Indeed. Much relies on this battle and the Varden will have to survive this. This battle will decide the fate of many things."

Ajihad nodded and Brom said grimly, "Yes. We will have to survive this. We must."

I wondered at his choice of words, so similar were they to the ones I had spoken to Murtagh only a few minutes before. With that the two left and Murtagh and I made our way over to where we could see Saphira crouched. Eragon was sitting beside her and Arya was not too far away along with Orik. My heart was a little lighter to see them and to know that at least a few friends would be beside me in this.

I took a seat by Saphira, holding Melynlas as I waited. The men gradually took their places and silence fell over Farthen Dur broken only by the occasional whinny of a horse, the crackle of flames or the sound of wetstone against steel. No one spoke.

A memory drifted across my vision…

I was standing in front of a brightly colored tent in the middle of a forest of tents. Soldiers, horses, carts and the occasional dwarf passed in front of me but I paid them no mind. A gentle hand reached out and gripped my shoulder, turning me to face my younger sister, Lucia. Her face was worn, dark shadows under eyes belied her weariness and her simple dress was stained with blood, dirt and who knows what else. She had been in the healing tent and her face bore the sadness that came from watching too many slip away as you held their hand and told them to think of bright, good things as their life drained away.

"It will be alright Zoe. Just keep the faith."

I shook my head and Lucia's hand tightened on my shoulder. "How can it be alright Lu? How? Father is dead, Pethred does not believe he can lead an army and Eomund has already lost hope. He is right. We cannot win this war. We cannot!" My voice – too low for the soldiers walking past to hear – shook with emotion.

Lucia shook her head firmly, "Have you forgotten your vows as a daughter of Angard? You swore never to give up and above all to never give up hope! We are their last chance. We cannot give up. Ever!"

I gazed at her, hopelessness drowning out any feeling of hope. Lucia saw this and suddenly she raised both hands to my face, gripping it tightly and her voice shook with its intensity. "We can do it Zoe. We can so believe in it. Believe in the men and above all in you. Pethred is strong and he will lead as will Eomund. A bright new dawn will come again and there will be no need for war or death…"

My vision cleared and I was left staring at the dark, gaping mouth of the tunnel with a line of sharpened stakes in front of it. I longed for my sister, for my brothers for my home. It was an overwhelming feeling and it took all my strength, all my will power, to force it away.

I was here.

I was in Alagaesia and that was how it would be for a while yet. I had friends here who I loved deeply and who I would die to save and, in time, I would go home. I would and there was no point getting lost in home-sickness for a place that I was only beginning to remember. But it was hard to think like that in the still silence of the battle field that became increasing hot and oppressive. It was hard to not give into my feelings of homesickness and self-doubt.

I could not sleep like Eragon or Murtagh or many of the other men. Instead I remained perfectly alert along with Arya and Saphira. Melynlas also remained very still expect for the occasional swish of her tail as she batted away an annoying fly. I almost wanted to talk with Arya or Saphira or even Orik but, at the same time, I did not and so I was left staring at the tunnel along with every man in this company of warriors. Time seemed to have slowed and even breathing in the hot, heavy air seemed to slow.

The occasional movement or suspicious sound would send a few warriors to their feet but it always proved false and sent them back to their positions. Apart from these brief moments nothing happened. Nothing and that was the worst part. The waiting is always the worst, the wondering if you should be treasuring each and every breath you take because it might be your last. They say knowledge is power but, in the time before battle begins – the time between preparation and the actually fighting – knowledge is a curse.

At last, at long last, a dwarven scout ran out of the tunnel.

He did not need to say anything for his very presence and bloody axe was enough. Knowing what was happening I surged to my feet as Saphira and Arya woke the others. I paused before mounting my mare, feeling the need to prepare her for what was coming while everyone around me readied themselves and their weapons for coming carnage. Already I could hear the sounds of heavy feet and feel the vibrations of the Urgals through the soles of my boots but, for a second, I found a moment of total peace of quiet as my mind slowed and I took a deep breath.

Resting a hand on my mare's dark neck, I whispered softly into her ear. "I promise you, Melynlas, with everything I am that I will do all I can for you in this battle."

The mare snorted almost as if she was agreeing to the same thing for me and, with that, I mounted and turned my attention back to the tunnel. It was time. Beside me, face set, Eragon had mounted Saphira and drawn his bow. Murtagh was already on Tornac while Arya, standing straight and tall, watched the tunnel. Orik, a little ways away, had his giant ax held ready. I readied my bow as a few soldiers prepared torches for the welcoming trap the Varden and dwarves had prepared.

As I notched an arrow to my bow, I could not help but glance up at the starless dome of Farthen Dur. I longed for a single bright star at the very least to take comfort in before this began but all I could see was the heavy shadows of the hollow mountain. I sighed and turned my gaze back to the tunnel as the sounds of Urgals bellowing reached my ears. It was time - for good or for ill - for the first battle of this rebellion. Who knew how it would end but, either way, I would do what I could.

The ground shook.

And I closed my eyes briefly as adrenalin began to run through me, hot and welcoming to my numb, terrified heart.

Don't run little warrior. Draw you blade and fight.

Keep smiling in the shadow of the sun.

Revised 1/27/2013

Enjoy!