A/N: It's been a long time, I know, and I apologise profusely. Anyway, it's a bit short but you'll see why it's short later. I hope you enjoy it.
* * * Arya's POV * * *
In all my experience of battles, I had never been so nervous; not even when Eragon faced Galbatorix. Never before had the stakes been so personal. It wasn't my own life I was fighting for; it was the lives of my children.
"They need to be quieter, Arya," Eragon muttered into my ear, glancing down at the men advancing through the desert below Saphira.
I nodded, but there was little we could do. Groenur had already flown ahead, so high in the sky that he would look like a bird, and checked the position of Trianna's forces. They hadn't moved further since the last scouting trip Murtagh had taken, except perhaps to set up a camp further away from Urû'baen. It hadn't taken long for our leaders to be taken to the camp, the shade capable of movement faster than most humans. We were restricted to a slower pace because we had to keep our army together.
Using a mental link, Eragon spoke to Saphira, Groenur and myself. We need to go lower and land. We have to prepare these men for what they might face and stand at the front.
Saphira followed his instructions and glided slowly towards the ground, keeping her wings slightly flared so that she could land lightly. At this point we had to be as quiet as possible or we would lose the element of surprise that we were banking on. Just after we had left, Eragon and I, borrowing the strength of the dragons, had cast an anti-scrying spell but one loud noise would tell Trianna exactly where we were and what we were up to.
Eragon climbed down from Saphira and brought the men to a halt. I shadowed his movements and stood diagonally behind him, Saphira and Groenur looming over us further behind. They waited silently for instructions but none came. Eragon held his hand aloft and pointed into the distance where a dark smudge on the horizon signified the location of Trianna's pitched tents. In front of that, moving men were visible.
Speaking almost as quietly as death, Eragon began, "There lies the witch who has wreaked havoc upon our families, our towns and our livelihoods. She steals your leaders. She takes children, tortures men and tears our families apart. A hundred men were taken from our midst by poison and our kings and queens taken from us at knife point. What, I ask, are you going to do about it? Will you stand? Will you let it slide or will you join me? I ask you, how will you fight? Will you be fierce, unyielding?" The ears of every soldier were strained to catch his words. "How will you make her pay? Will you fight?"
In answer to his words, the men loosed a battle cry and charged forwards past him, drawing their swords, their axes and fitting arrows to bows.
In the distance, Trianna's men stopped moving to listen. Then a shout went up and in a scramble, men hurried from tents, armour half-hanging off, and hastily prepared to fight.
When the armies met, it was organised chaos.
The elven archers stayed behind slightly, expertly shooting arrows into the centre of Trianna's army, felling many men in a matter of seconds, whilst the foot soldiers went first, swords and spears fatally wounding those the arrows didn't catch. The cavalry came next and dealt with those who were still fighting.
A series of battle machines came to life, and a section of our army was crushed under a ball of fire.
"Saphira!" Eragon called, asking her to deal with the men controlling the catapults. Saphira rushed forwards, bounding over men and soaring into the air, already generating a torrent of fire in her belly. The stench of charred flesh soon filled the air, joining the tang of blood.
But there had been no sign of Trianna, Brom or Ilia or our friends.
I leapt onto Groenur and strapped my legs in as quickly as my long fingers would allow. The battlefield was a mess, men, ours and theirs, wounded and dead. The dwarves were resiliently hacking at the enemy, determined to reach Orik even if it meant fighting to the death. Even the elves had joined the fray and, after using up all their arrows, dropped their bows and drew their elegant swords.
Unbidden, my hands locked around my sword and pulled it free from its sheath as Groenur finally flew free from the brawling armies. Arrows came flying at us though they were easily deflected by my wards.
Beyond the tents lay a command centre. Without needing to be told, Groenur dropped from the sky, the ground shaking with the force of his landing. Trianna ran out and scowled at me. Over the noise of battle, muffled yells could be heard from inside the tent.
"If it isn't Princess Arya. How wonderful of you to join us. Do come inside though."
"And why would I do that, Trianna?"
"Because there happens to be a shade loyal to me stood right behind you," Trianna replied, clearly ecstatic with how events were turning out.
I cried out in pain, Groenur cringing underneath me, as the shade began to squeezed my mind.
Eragon! Help!
Something collided forcefully with my head before I could give him any information and I fell forwards in Groenur's saddle, unconscious.
A/N: So yeah, it had to be short, I'm afraid, because I needed the cliffhanger. I know most of you don't like them but bear with me and it WILL make the story better. I'd love to know what you thought though, so, if you've got time, leave a review. Thank you so much for reading!