"It has begun," said Arya softly.

Yes it had begun and there was no point saying it over and over in the hope that it would suddenly stop. I could see the bulky shapes of Urgals in the shadowy tunnel entrance and the glint of the torches on their weapons. It wouldn't be long now. A kind of relief spread through me because, after thinking about this and wondering about it constantly, it would finally begin and the outcome would be decided.

At a command from Joörmunder, the cauldrons of pitch were titled on their sides, pouring the scalding liquid into the tunnel's gaping mouth. The Urgals howled in pain, arms flailing. A torch was thrown onto the bubbling pitch, and an orange pillar of greasy flames roared up in the opening, engulfing the Urgals in an inferno. The sight, the sounds and the smell made me almost throw up over my mare's shoulder. Poor Melynlas snorted and danced backwards from the heat of the flames. The smell of burning flesh was sickening and the Urgal screams painful to hear. A quick glance around told me that this had happened at all the two other tunnels.

It did not take long for the Urgals to overcome this particular hurdle.

They quickly tamped the pitch down and clambered out over the charred bodies of their fallen companions, all the while bellowing for revenge. Behind the palisade of sharpened sticks archers began to fire and I added my own arrows to theirs. The arrows found their mark and, for a minute, the Urgals could do nothing but raise their shields and cower together as the arrows showered down. The solid line of Urgals wavered, threatening to break, but they covered themselves with their shields and weathered the attack. Again and again we fired, but the Urgals continued to stream onto the surface at a very frightening rate. I gave up wasting arrows and slipped my bow away, choosing to draw my sword instead. My hand brushed against my horn and a little flicker of warmth spread up through my arm. At least I had my horn if things got desperate.

And they very well might.

I watched, disgusted and frightened, as the Urgals charged forward only to be dashed against the first row of stakes, covering them with slick blood and limp corpses. A few Urgals fired arrows but I was too far back to be harmed by the deadly rain. Eragon and Saphira who were closer to the front of the lines were not affected overly much either.

It did not take long before the horde of Urgals overcame the pickets and swarmed forward. Now it was the Varden's turn to bunch together as if hoping this would make us harder to kill. For a moment things seemed to slow down.

The Urguls charge forward. Stop. The men at the front raised their spears to form a thorny wall of spears. Stop. Sound dies down. Stop. The seconds drag on. Stop. Then, suddenly, everything speeds back up and, with a deafening crash, the main bodies of the two opposing armies clash together and we were forced into the fight.

Things were complete mayhem from then on out.

The things I remember of that fight are the small details. They are the strange little things that my adrenalin fueled brain caught onto. Fire glinting on a curved Urgal blade as it was raised to deliver a killing blow. A young Varden soldier, his eyes wide with terror, as he passed by me with the shattered haft of a spear clutched in one hand. The bright red blood that flecked Melynlas's coat as she lunged forward after a deadly exchange of blows. The dangerously sharp points of an Urgal's horn as he lowered them at me, roaring his challenge. The feeling of sweat mixing with blood running into my eyes and making them burn.

You may have heard that battle is confusion and endless fighting that seems to have no beginning and no end. You may have heard that the only time we can make some sort of sense out of the carnage and pain is in nightmares that haunt us until our dying day. That's all got a grain of truth to it but battle is more than that.

You cannot hope to explain it so simply. You can hope to understand it a little when you ask a soldier and see his eyes cloud, his hands unconsciously tighten and his face grow cold. To really understand battle, to know what it really feels like…well the deepest understanding of something comes from living and doing. Battle is one of those things. It is everywhere. It is in books, songs and in our own individual pasts for all of us knows someone or has some long dead ancestor who fought in some battle or another.

Battle fills a person with wild fear that speeds up your reactions, sharpens your senses and makes you feel like you have just been plugged into an electric socket. Battle is sound. It is motion. It is the ache of small wounds. It is the exhaustion that begins to take its toll on your body because the adrenalin is draining. It is your mind desperately trying to process what is happening and it is something you can never forget or quite explain afterwards.

It is something apart from everything else.

I spin my sword, blocking an Urgal's club as I urged Melynlas forward so I could finish this duel and turn to another opponent. With one Urgal down and another few hundred ready to take his place, I wearily stroked my sweaty mare briefly. I needed a brief moment to catch my breath. We had been fighting for over two hours and there was no sign that it would slow down any time soon.

With a small nudge I moved my mare forwards and managed to take a few deep, steadying breaths before I was forced back into the fight when a Kull decided to try and decapitate me. I was halfway through finishing him and, at the same time, another Urgal off when I found myself fighting alongside a young man mounted on a brown charger. He was about my age – maybe a year or two older. He was obviously terrified but he managed a brief smile in my direction. I returned it and remained by his side until there was another break in the fighting. He was a decent fighter but battle is a game of luck and chance. You could be as skilled as Arya and still end up dead on the ground. I could end up dead on the ground. We all could.

"You alright?" I asked him.

What a silly question! Of course he wasn't alright and neither was I but the niceties of civilized society had not left me yet even this place and time.

He nodded. "As alright as I can be, my lady."

The battle carried on around us but, for a blessed moment, we were not part of it. It was like we were surrounded by some sort of invisible, protective bubble. My heart rate slowed a little and I was able to wipe some of the sweat from my forehead. I shifted my sword slightly in my hand and straightened myself in the saddle.

Giving him as much of a smile as I could manage right then I said, "Well look after yourself and when all this is over we might actually be able to have a conversation."

His grin made the blood, the screams, and the sounds of swords on swords and the bellowing Urgals seem quieter and easier to bear but not for long. The second we turned away from each other the protective bubble burst and we were caught back up in the fighting and separated. The fight carried me over towards Ajihad's battalion and I caught a glimpse of the fearless leader dueling three Kull at once. I also caught sight of Eragon mounted on a very frightening, very angry looking Saphira. However, I had little attention to spare for any of this.

At one point I found myself beside Murtah mounted on a blood flecked, wide eyed Tornac. Murtagh sent me a bloody grin and I returned it. He looked relatively unharmed and beside him was Orik, who fought with mighty blows of his ax that he delivered to the knees and legs of the Urgals. The combination of Orik and Murtagh was quite deadly and they were making short work of the Urgals who dared challenge them. Arya also passed me in the fighting, dueling four Kull at once with graceful spins and slashes. We fought beside one another for a time though we were forced apart at some point and I was sent spinning back towards the center of the battle field.

As the battle progressed, my mind began to focus on nothing else but my sword, the opponents I faced and - I hate to say it - but on killing. I was halfway through dealing with an Urgal when Brom managed to contact me through the haze of battle fueled energy that surrounded my mind. I say managed because I was so divorced from my mind, so completely focused on living that I had let my contact with the man fade away and out of my thoughts.

Zoe! Listen to me!

I ducked a Kull's swing and managed to evade being squashed by a dead Urgal as he tumbled backwards. What is it Brom? I snapped back.

You are needed. Hrothgar and his forces require aid. The fight goes badly for them.

Right. Where are they? I spun my mare to the side, just managing to avoid being cut in half by a brutal looking Kull.

They are on the far east side of the battle field.

I did not respond but rather fought my way in the general direction. I happened to glance upwards and saw Eragon and Saphira diving down and, guessing that they were heading to Hrothgar, I followed them.

I found the dwarf King in a very nasty situation though he and his soldiers were making the best of it. King Hrothgar was wearing a very impressive suit of golden armor. He stood at the front of a small knot of dwarves wielding the ancient hammer, Volund, and his white beard stood out against the gold of his armor and the reddish light. He was impressive to watch fight and each swing of his hammer meant the end of an Urgal but, despite his impressive fighting prowess, dwarves were falling to his left and right. Somehow they had been separated from the main body of dwarves and now had their backs to the outside of the cavern. The Urgals had surrounded them on three sides and it was all the dwarves could do to protect themselves let alone their King - not that he seemed to need much protection.

I moved over to Eragon and Saphira. Eragon gave a wide-eyed half nod that I returned but there was no time for talking. Saphira did not acknowledge me, her blue eyes glowed with furious fire and she roared her challenge. Hrothgar did not even seem to acknowledge our presence just kept on fighting. Raising my blade I joined in, doing my best to help the dwarves get themselves out of the corner they had been locked in. For a brief moment I also saw Angela, dressed in green and black armor with her two handed shaft. Behind her was Solembum in cat form, his teeth bared in a feral grin and a small dagger in one paw.

Angela gave me a wicked grin and said, "Always nice to see you Zoe."

"Same to you Angela," I said as I spun Melynlas to the left to avoid an Urgal's hammer blow. The witch and her companion vanished amid the Urgals, though they did leave quite the path of dead Urgals behind them.

It was then that I happened to glance at Eragon and saw him and Saphira taking off. I sighed enviously; I would love to be able to leave the battle behind for a few moments of peace and quiet in the air. My moment of envious thinking nearly cost me my life.

There is no time for such thoughts or any inaction in battle.

And I nearly paid for it with my life.

An Urgal had used my distraction to his advantage and swung his club at my undefended chest. I realized this just a little too late, and with a cry I tried to raise my sword. I was going to be too late, I knew this and I was preparing for that massive blow…but it never came. The Urgal began to choke and then, to my utter shock, he crumpled sideways. Behind him stood King Hrothgar, mighty war hammer still raised and his eyes burning with hatred for the Urgals.

I gasped out, "Thank you your majesty."

He gazed at me and said, "You are welcome. I see you are using the armor we provided."

"Yes," I said, "it has saved my life more than once. I thank you, your majesty."

Hrothgar just nodded his head and nothing more was said between us and my attention returned once again to the killing that I had to do if I wanted to survive. However, despite all the Urguls that were felled there was always another Urgal. They were all fresh and all ready to win glory by killing as many of us they could. The Battle of Farthen Dür was by far the most sordid battle I had ever fought in or ever imagined fighting in. Men were falling to my left and right along with dwarves. If something didn't change soon there was no way we could win this fight. Where was that Shade? For once in my life I wanted him to be here and be here soon!

This had to end.

This had to end soon.

Throughout the battle I was contacted by Brom who did his best to send me where he thought I would be most useful. He also warned me if I was going to become trapped by Urgals. In short he did his best to keep me and everyone else alive. He must have felt rather guilty not to be down here fighting alongside us and so did his best to make up for it with his running battle commentary. It was rather annoying at points, I will admit, but what can you do? The old man was doing his best.

At one point I found myself close to Eragon and Saphira. I had just finished a rather vicious fight with a very large, very brutal Kull when I happened to glance over at Eragon who was dueling from Saphira's back. Not far away from him was Arya. I saw Eragon hold out a hand to her and help her onto Saphira but that was not what held my attention for long. To my horror I saw an Urgal running towards her just as she prepared to take off.

I realized three things right then. The first was that Eragon and Arya were going back into Tronjheim. If Eragon was going back then that meant Durza was going to be here very soon. But there was something of more immediate concern. For, in that split second, I realized was that I had to stop the Urgal before he lifted his ax and smashed it into Saphira's chest. All thoughts of changing future events went out of my head as my hand closed around the small knife in my belt, the last one I had.

Time slowed.

I raised my arm, took aim and let the small blade fly. It flew through the air with deadly accuracy, finding its mark in the back of the Urgals neck just as he lifted his ax. For a second he was stopped mid-step before falling to the ground. He was stopped – his life ended – but his ax…no! No his ax was still moving, still carrying all the force of the blow he had been about to inflict and it was sent spinning forward and straight into Saphira's side.

I screamed. I could not help it as I watched the blue dragoness struggle upwards. The dent in her armor, while not as severe as it would have been had I not stopped the Urgal, was still hampering her. The dragoness had to struggle to get herself up and, her flight erratic, she turned herself towards Tronjheim.

I had no time to regain myself after that little incident. I spun my mare and began to fight with all my remaining strength in an effort to get back to the city before it was too late. I managed to burst through a knot of Urgals and had a clear gallop towards the blood flecked white marble walls of the city mountain. I pressed my heels to my mare's tired sides. In desperation I leaned down and whispered in her ears in the Ancient Language, "Run Melynlas. Run!"

And run she did. My brave little mare galloped with all she had to the city. No one tried to stop or question us, a few Urgals sent some arrows our way but they fell short of their mark and we continued on. While my mare galloped towards the city mountain, I contacted Brom with my mind. Brom?

What?

Get to the central chamber as quickly as you can. Durza is going to be breaking through there. Brom did not respond but rather quickly cut the link with a hurried 'I'll get there right away.' I prayed with all my heart that he would.

I pulled Melynlas up to a stop in front of the front gates to the city. They were shut. About as shut as it can get. The gates might as well have been solid marble. I searched the surrounding walls for anything that might be a door. But there was nothing.

Nothing at all.

Furious tears began to prick my eyes as I searched the walls. No - not now - don't tell me I'm going to fail because I couldn't find a single door. Don't tell me I can't get into this stupid city because I can't find a single door! Had my brain not been so scrambled by fighting, adrenalin, desperation, despair and exhaustion I might have sat back for a moment and actually thought but I didn't - I couldn't. I was too strung out. Way too strung out.

I had been fighting for my life for hours and rational thought was out of my mental capabilities right then.

I dismounted haphazardly from my mare, stumbling on the uneven ground and left her standing there as I began to run my hands over the walls. What I hoped to accomplish by this I don't know but I had to do something. As I ran my hands over the walls, my fingers slid over a slight notch in the marble wall and my breath caught in my throat. Was that it? Oh please let this be it! Please, please with all my heart and more! Was that really a small chink in the wall? It was invisible until you got close and actually saw the irregular break in the smooth wall that signaled that there was a door, but it was there. I threw my weight against the door but it refused to open. I flung myself against it only for it to remain stubbornly shut. It could only be opened from the inside. I left out a half wail, half anguished sob as I leaned my tired body against the door.

Why now?

Why when I had to be somewhere did this have to happen? I was crying. I was beyond exhausted. I was burning with adrenalin and I was furious. I hadn't realized that until now. I was angry and it left me gasping for breath as I tried to contain my outrage. I was mad at the Urgals. I was mad at Galbatorix but above all, I was furious with whoever had sent me here unprepared, with no guidelines and no hints. I pounded my fists against the door. Why? Why me? Why did they have to do this to me? It wasn't fair - no it was so stupidly unfair that I wanted to blow something up.

Something inside of me stirred but I ignored at first. All my attention was on my furious, childish outburst of emotion but the feeling grew until I could no longer ignore it. My anger, my desperation and fear had broken the wall around some hidden part of myself that had been locked away and out of reach until then. With new found energy pumping through my veins, my fury lent me the key to unlocking this hidden part of who I was. I began to whisper, not in the Ancient language or any other language I thought I knew, but another one and I could not have told you what I was saying or why. It was beautiful, lyrical and powerful. Something stirred within me and white hot fire began to spread through my tired limbs and I felt...strong. My weariness and pain was left behind as this new power flew through me.

I focused all my will, all my new found strength, whatever was awakening inside of me on one word: open.

Open!

Open because of Eragon and Saphira. Open. I knew that all my strength, all my love, all my anger was going into that single word. Whatever it took I would pay the price. My hands burned and I cried out but I kept on. All my hope that we still might survive.

Open!

For good or for ill!

Open!

And it did.

With a mighty crack the door was blasted back from its hidden hinges. I gasped as the power inside of me suddenly died and left me feeling slightly sick and weak. I shook my head and pushed myself straight, using the wall to support my weight. It hadn't really registered what I had just done. My mind was already onto other things and I whispered, "Melynlas?" My mare moved forward nervously and I smiled slightly as I dragged myself back onto her back. I was distantly aware of scorch marks on the marble wall around the door frame as well as cracks that spread out from the hole I had blasted in the wall.

"We must hurry," I said and once again Melynlas needed little encouragement. She leapt forward and, while I hated to gallop her up the hard city streets, I knew I had to. I steered her as best I could and tried to get myself back together. I refused to think about what I had done but rather what I had to do. I drew my sword as we neared the central chamber, my heart thudding a loud, regular rhythm in my chest. The city was deathly quiet except for the sound of Melynlas hooves on the hard stone. Even the sounds of battle did not reach these deserted streets. The quiet was a blessed relief but it also set me on edge - it was too quiet and it was getting to me. I had just come from the hurly burly of battle and silence felt like a dangerous enemy after that barrage of sound.

When I was within easy running distance of the room I stopped my mare and rested a hand on her sweaty neck, "Stay here Melynlas. I'll come back for you. Thank you." She gazed at me with liquid brown eyes and gave me a nudge. I smiled and turned swiftly running along the marble corridor towards the central chamber.

I burst into the central chamber to see my worst nightmare being played out in front of me. Durza and Eragon squaring off while Urgals watched in the shadows. The marble floor of the chamber was cracked and broken from where they had broken through. I froze in the shadows of an arch and my chest constricted painfully. What now? What the hell did I do now? I cast my thoughts around desperately but could not find Brom anywhere. My mental line with the old story teller was broken. What had happened to him? No! No…no what did I do now?! I had solved the door problem only to come here and realize that I had no plan. I had some mad-cap idea of a plan that vanished the second I actually got here. I did not know what to do and nor did I have time to make a plan.

My entrance to the fight had not been noticed by anyone but I decided to change that. Worst comes worst then it would be both Eragon and I against Durza. Lovely, just what I wanted to do when I was this disorganized and at such a low point in my strength. Suddenly a voice that sounded suspiciously like Eomund whispered in my mind, What about your mind? Or have you forgotten one of your greatest strengths? Why go bursting in with a drawn sword when you can influence the fight from the shadows and not go risking future events?

A smile began to spread slowly across my face. Of course! Of course…how could I have forgotten?

Sending my thoughts outward I slipped into the mind of the Shade and began to interfere. Suddenly he could not quite concentrate as well on his attack on Eragon's mental defenses because of the strange things that were being whispered into his mind. I sung the lyrics to 'The Most Annoying Song,' I told bad jokes and did my best to confuse, distract and infuriate the spirits that controlled Durza. My brilliant plan worked amazing until Durza happened to glance towards where I was hiding. He must have caught sight of the slight glint of my armor or the vague outline of my body because, in that chilling voice he called out. "Who goes there? Or do I have send my Urgals to fetch you?" Eragon did not glance my way though he must have known it was me hiding there.

I sent my thoughts around for Brom once more but found nothing and so, cursing under my breath, I gritted my teeth and I stepped out. I raised my sword to a defensive position and had to smile at the look of complete shock, surprise and anger that flashed across the Shade's perfectly terrifying mask of a face. The emotions, however, quickly faded to be replaced by a feral smile that sent chills down my spine.

"So you managed to live did you?" said Durza silkily. "Well, well, well this is a fun little gathering isn't it Rider? Your loyal little friend and soon your dragon will be joining us. The King will be pleased indeed."

Eragon sent me one quick, desperate look and I sent a small tendril of assurance to him through my mind. Of course he did not believe we would be ok. Then again, deep down, neither did I. One does not escape a Shade easily or unscathed, especially when that Shade is fueled by fear of what his master would do if he returned empty handed.

"What," I asked coolly as I stepped forward cautiously, "makes you think we are going to the King?"

"Ah little girl," said Durza. "Why must you play this game? None of you can defeat me so why try?"

"I think you have grown over confident Durza."

He smirked, "Tell me then girl. What can you, a weak, battle weary human girl or a battle weary and weak Rider, do against me? A Shade who poses a challenge to even the greatest of elven warriors?"

I could not help it; I really could not help it. I laughed. I laughed and shook my head in amusement. Durza was frightening - of course - but he was such a perfect example of a classically bad villain with all the classically evil lines that it was almost comic. Notice I say 'almost' and that 'almost' only comes when you are running on the last ebbs of your strength and have just faced emanate death and are about to face it again. Your brain really isn't thinking very clearly and you find things you usually find terrifying somehow funny.

"Oh Durza," I said, "can't you just realize that we aren't about to give up so easily?"

He looked, if possible, a little unnerved by my laughter but not for long. "Then let us get this over with," and, with that, he lunged at Eragon who - luckily - saw it coming and met the Shade's strike with his own. I leapt forward and entered the duel. Durza met each of our strokes and I wondered how long I could keep this up. Not long at all, I thought as I narrowly avoid a strike at my left ribs. I was too tired and so was Eragon.

We were just too tired.

In a swift movement Durza sent Zar'roc flying from Eragn's grasp and to the floor a few feet away. Without pausing in his stroke the Shade raised the point of his sword to Eragon's neck. I froze as Durza met my gaze with his own that glittered with victory and cruel amusement. He ran the point along Eragon's neck, drawing a thin line of blood and I gave a small pained gasp. My body was frozen, my mind unable to work as everything suddenly went still around me.

"You see little girl," said Durza softly. "Do you not see now? We will always win. No matter what you do we will always win. No one is ever going to be strong enough to defeat us."

I knew that by 'us' he meant the evil, twisted spirits inside of him. I almost thought about dueling him mentally but I could not. For, the moment I did, he would kill Eragon. We were officially dead but...not quite I suddenly realized. Where was Saphira and Arya? Where the hell were they? Hope surged through my veins.

I glanced at Eragon and saw him looking at me steadily. He raised his eyes to the ceiling and I understood in a flicker of a moment as we shared our silent code. They are coming. Just above. Soon. My heart was beating unsteadily, my hands sweaty around the wire wrapped hilt of my sword.

Meeting the Shade's gaze Eragon said steadily, "You keep forgetting about something Durza."

"Oh?" said the Shade. "And what would that be Rider?" his voice changing to an amused hiss.

"Dragons!" and, with that, he flung himself backward from Durza and towards his sword. The ceiling - the most prized jewel of the dwarves - at that precise moment, began to crack and, in a sudden bang, the entire, beautifully carved gem of the Star Rose shattered in thousands of pieces that tumbled down towards us. Durza glanced upwards in shock and I saw Eragon raise his sword, the red blade was glowing red hot with flames but Durza let out a furious snarl and, before I could do anything, he slashed his sword at Eragon. The Rider cried out in agony and I saw blood and then everything suddenly slowed down. It felt like the world had just been paused at that exact instant. I felt as if I was trying to run underwater.

I saw Eragon, his face white with pain, glaring up at Durza who had raised one hand towards Saphira and Arya.

I saw Saphira, flames flaring from her gaping maw, and Arya was wielding her blade in one hand diving down toward us.

I saw the falling shards of the Star Rose.

I saw Durza open his mouth to say something - a spell or curse.

I saw Eragon raise his sword, the red blade still glowing with blue flames, and stab it through the heart of the Shade.

Then, as if life had suddenly been injected into my veins, something inside of me suddenly woke up and I leapt forward, sending out a mental shield that surrounded Eragon's mind as the Shade wavered and then crumbled the spirits flying upwards as the Shade's body disintegrated leaving nothing but a sword and a pile of armor. The walls I erected around Eragon were tested as the Shade's evil power battered against them in an effort to get at the quickly fading Rider but they held like stone against a wave as I filled them with my power and strength of my will.

I did not notice Saphira landing or the gentle settling of the shattered jewel. My attention was on the Rider in front of me. I fell to my knees and my sword clattered down beside me, dropped by my suddenly nerveless hand. I quickly turned Eragon over only to see a mess of blood, ripped armor and more blood. I let him back down and could not help the sob that escaped me. One glance around me told me that I was alone. I saw Arya unconscious on Saphira's back and utterly useless to me then. The dragoness herself was shaking with the effort of what she had done and the pain that must be radiating from Eragon through to her. I glanced down at Eragon, "Eragon,"
I whispered. "You've got to stay awake. Please."

I cradled his head in my lap and looked down. I had, in my life as Zoe of Prydain, seen enough injuries to know that few people could lose blood like this and live. I smoothed back his bloody hair and tried to press some of my strength into his rapidly fading body. I felt as if I was choking. He was still alive but terror was coursing through my veins. To have him die in front of me, with Saphira right there, was utterly terrifying.

His eyelids fluttered. "Saphira?" he whispered.

His voice was shaking with pain and I gently stoked his face as I tried to keep him from letting himself go and vanish into the endless darkness of death. I was no healer and I had nothing with which to bind the wound. I was useless - worse than useless. After all the things I had done and learned I still could not save someone when it mattered. I hated the feeling; I hated this helplessness with all my heart.

"She's here," I said trying to keep the fear from my voice. "Come on, Eragon! Stay with me! Eragon!" I cried out desperately as he groaned in pain and squeezed his eyes shut. He was fading and with each drop of blood that left him he grew weaker and weaker.

Suddenly I felt the weight of my horn at my hip, it seemed heavier somehow than it had before as if it was trying to remind of its presence. My hand grabbed it spasmodically – the grasp of a desperate person - and I raised it. The eyes of the lion almost looked alive in the light. They glowed and winked as I gazed at them. I suddenly wondered at my foolish mind for ignoring such an obvious solution.

I had my horn.

My horn.

A horn from another world where magic pulsed and wove its way into everything. Without thinking I raised it to my lips and blew for the first time since I had left my home. The sound that echoed from it was long and it echoed around the room and spread out farther. It soothed me but it also made my heart thrum with hope. It reverberated through my very soul as it spread outwards. It caught me up in its wild power, crying out with wild urgency.

I did not have to wait long.

As I lowered the horn from my mouth and let it fall back to my side I saw Angela running from a tunnel. She was covered in Urgal blood and behind her ran Solembum in boy form. The relief I felt was almost palpable. Angela was here, she would make this right and I could pass Eragon off to her. I could let a true healer take over.

"Angela," I said desperately.

The witch knelt beside me, her voice brisk and the length of her sentences kept to the absolute minimum. "Get Arya, I'll take him. Keep your shield around his mind it is preventing the Shade from destroying his consciousness."

I nodded and rocked back on my heels as Angela lifted Eragon and hurried with him towards one of the tunnels. I went to Saphira who did not even acknowledge me and removed Arya from the saddle. As the elf's weight settled into my arms, I nearly dropped her as my body screamed out in pain and I dropped her to hard floor. I gasped in agony and looked down to see blood coming from a wound to my shoulder. I must have gotten it during the battle and, in my adrenalin fueled state, I had not noticed it.

Shaking my head to try and clear the pain from it, I half lifted the elf but didn't get very far because Brom was suddenly beside me. How did I not notice him? Was I that dead to my surroundings? Guess so.

"Zoe," he said his voice a confused mix of weariness and worry.

"Brom," I whispered.

"I'll take Arya. Where is Eragon?"

"With Angela. She went that way." I gestured vaguely at the tunnel the witch had run through and Brom nodded before taking the elf from my arms. "You need a healer Zoe," said the man looking at me with a mix of worry, kindness and fear.

"I'll be fine it's Eragon you should be worried about." My shield around his mind was still there and I could still feel the dark remains of the Shade pounding against it as well as the quickly fading consciousness of Eragon. "Go Brom," I said pushing myself straight. He gave me another worried, reluctant look and I tried to smile. "I'll be fine. Go!" He sighed but with another reluctant look at me he hurried away with the limp body of Arya in his arms.

"Saphira?" I asked the dragon stoking the bit of exposed scale on her lower jaw. "Saphira it will be alright." My reassurances sounded false in the heavy air of the chamber. How could anything be alright then with so many dead?

Nothing was alright.

We both knew that.

Zoe. What will happen to Eragon? I cannot reach him…I can barely feel him.

"I don't know," I said truthfully and I did not know and neither did I really want to think too hard about it. "You should go to him Saphira. I promise you that Angela will do all she can for him. Have hope."

The dragon nodded her head slightly and began to pick her way through the shards of the jewel as she made her way after Angela and Brom. The normally strong, proud dragon was a shattered remnant of who she had been only a moment before as she flew down with fire erupting from her mouth. She did not even bother to lift her tail up to avoid hitting the jagged remains of the jewel or mention her use of fire.

Left alone I retrieved my sword from where I had dropped it and returned to my mare that was still standing where I had left her. Melynlas had one hind leg cocked and both ears perked. I could not help but smile as I stroked her neck and whispered another 'thank-you' in her ears. For a second I just stood there, leaning my body against the warm shoulder of Melynlas and breathing in the smell of warm horse before I led her back through the empty tunnels towards the stables on the lower levels. The distant sounds of fighting could still be heard from the battle field as I drew closer to the lower levels but things would now have turned in the Varden's favor and I did not think I was in any shape to return to the fighting - my horse was certainly not.

I arrived to find only one stable hand in the stables. He was a young man who hurried forward from his seat on a hay bale when he saw me and my mare enter the building. Most of the horses were gone, expect for a few who stuck their heads out of their stalls and whinnied joyfully when they saw my mare who was too tired to even whicker.

The young man took the reins from my hand and said, "What is going on out there my lady?" He was maybe seventeen and I wondered why he had been left behind. Perhaps he could not fight though that would be strange for a young man in the Varden or…well who knows. I didn't really care at this point.

I shrugged, "Durza has been killed and the battle has been tipped in the Varden's favor."

The tension in the boy's shoulders fell away and he smiled, "No better news could there be. Who killed Durza? And what was that noise that came from the city? Or the explosion by the main gates? I thought the Urgals had broken the gates down."

I smiled tiredly, "Rider Eragon killed Durza. The noise was the sound of my horn when I summoned help. As for the bang...well that was me to. I had to get into the city and the only way was to blast a hole in the wall." I was so exhausted that I did not even see the funny side of what I had just said. It was all I could to do to stay awake let alone censure my words for the sake of a stable hand.

The boy's eyes widened and he stared at me wide-eyed before saying, "Oh. Well let me look after your mare, my lady. She is need of tending and so are you." I saw the faint flush of color in his cheeks as he said that to me and I could not have agreed more. I did need tending but I also wanted to stay with my mare who had been such a faithful companion through this entire mess.

Trying for some lightness in my voice I said, "I'm fine. Let me help you."

The stable hands was too intimated by me to argue so he let me hold my mare while he removed her tack, sponged the blood and sweat from Melynlas's coat, and then stitched some wounds on her flanks before he bandaged them and then placed a warm blanket over her. Leaving me with my horse he prepared a stall and, at last, I was allowed to let Melynlas go into the roomy, deeply bedded stall. The mare drank, ate a little hay and then lay down with a deep, happy groan of contentment.

The stable hand left me and I suddenly just wanted to lie down and fall asleep with my horse. The deep straw bed was looking about as comfortable as it could get so - ignoring my various injuries and the press of my other duties - I slipped inside the stall and curled up in the crook of my mare's neck. Melynlas gave a soft nicker and that was the last thing I heard before falling asleep.

Some sensible part of me made me check on my barricade around Eragon's shattered, pain filled mind. It was still strong and so I added more layers of protection to it before giving into sleep completely. I left a small thread of connection between it and my own mind so I would know if it changed. I did not dream - I just fell into a dark pool of nothing. It was a blessed release from everything that happened to me that day.

It was over.

And we were still alive.

Somehow, miraculously, we were still alive.

So far. And that had better not change.

Murtagh groaned as he made his way to the stable with Tornac.

The horse stumbled wearily beside him and every step Murtagh took sent stabs of pain through his leg from a gash delivered by a Kull that had aimed to cut him from the saddle. He had tied a rough bandage around it but it would need cleaning and stitching soon. Also on his list of pressing concerns was Zoe. He had not seen her since the battle and no one he had asked had known either where she was or what had happened to her. He knew that it had been her horn that echoed out across the battle field from the city mountain but that was not helping him find her. In fact it just made him more worried. What had happened to force Zoe to blow her horn? She had never used it in the time he had known her and would only have blown it if she was forced to.

The stable was bustling with soldiers attending to their horses but one young man, a stable hand who had not fought by the looks of him, appeared beside Murtagh so silently that the young warrior jumped and fell back into a defensive position. He must be exhausted indeed to allow someone to slip up on him like that. Perhaps it was best he had left the battle field when he had.

"May I take your horse?" asked the young man, holding out a hand for Tornac's reins. Shaking his head slightly to clear his thoughts, Murtagh nodded his head and let the boy take the reins from him.

"Yes," said Murtagh, "take good care of him for me. Also," Murtagh paused and asked, "you haven't seen a young woman come in with a dark grey mare have you?" His voice was desperate despite his best attempts to control it.

To his utmost relief the young man nodded. "She came in first. Her mare is in the seventh stall on the right and you will find the Lady there to. She is asleep with her horse and I did not want to wake her."

Murtagh gave him a true, grateful smile before hurrying towards the indicated stall. Zoe was there. She was curled up with her head on her mare's neck and one hand under her cheek. The mare flicked one ear at Murtagh but did nothing when he entered the stall and allowed him to kneel, painfully, beside the sleeping form of Zoe.

A quick inspection of her confirmed that she had not escaped the battle unscathed. Gently shaking her shoulder he smiled as she flinched and one hand went to her sword.

"It's me," said Murtagh softly as Zoe opened her dark-grey eyes.

"Murtagh?" she asked groggily as she struggled to sit up only to wince and close her eyes in pain. "What's happening?"

"Not much," said Murtagh. "I just came in from the battle field. Ajihad is planning to send groups of men in to chase Urgals that escaped into the tunnels. I will be going with them once my injuries have been seen to. I think you also have some hurts that need tending."

She nodded and gratefully accepted his help to stand. She wavered a little on her feet but managed to get her balance and Murtagh had to force his worry away. Zoe would appreciate him fussing over her. Now that he could see her better he saw dried blood on her left shoulder as well as deep graze that went from her temple down her cheek. He had never seen her look so worn, her face was ashen and her eyes dull with a mixture of exhaustion and pain. Concern for her filled him again but, aware that he looked no better than she, Murtagh simply offered her his arm and the two left the stall. They made their way out of the busy stable and back into the street where more and more soldiers, some on stretchers, were arriving.

Once they were outside Zoe said quietly, "I should go and see Eragon. He was badly injured by Durza when he killed him."

"You need to have your wounds looked after first!" said Murtagh. How could she ignore injuries when they were so obviously affecting her? Not that he could talk about ignoring injuries, nagged a small part of his brain which was only backed up by a painful twinge of his leg.

"Brom is there and he can look after me," said Zoe. "Why don't you come with me?"

He raised his eyes to the dark cavern of the hollow mountain. How he wished for open sky! The city mountain felt claustrophobic to him right then and the smell of death was heavy on the air and it made it difficult to breathe. He longed for a true wind to blow the smoke and death away or even just cool his sweaty face. It must be dark outside for no light entered the mountain and the city was lit with thousands of torches as soldiers hurried this way and that.

With a sigh, Murtagh lowered his eyes to gaze deeply into Zoe's tired, pained eyes. "I'll go with you." She smiled and the two of them made their way from the bottom levels upwards. Zoe seemed to know where she was going and finally they arrived in a wide, open corridor that Murtagh recognized as the one where the Healing Hall he had taken Zoe was. Saphira was stretched out in front of a door she turned her armored head to look at them when they approached.

Murtagh. Zoe. said the dragon. Murtagh thought he had never heard the dragoness sound so miserable. How badly injured was his brother to make Saphira this worried?

"Saphira. Have you heard anything?"

No. Nor can I do anything for him.

The door beside Saphira opened and Brom stepped out into the corridor followed by a haggard looking Arya. Murtagh stared in open-mouthed amazement - he had never seen the elf princess look that exhausted or disheveled. Her black hair was messed with blood and tangles, her clothes were ripped and her armor dented from the battle. She looked worse than she had when they had rescued her from Gil'ead.

"Arya!" said Zoe. "I did not think you would be awake yet."

"Angela has helped me," said Arya simply. She glanced at Brom, "I must sleep I will see you all later." With that she left and Brom looked after her worriedly.

"Will she be alright?" asked Murtagh.

"Yes," said Brom, "but she overused her magic and it will take her time to recover. We almost lost her."

"What about Eragon?" asked Zoe tensely, her eyes never leaving Brom's face as she gazed at him.

An expression of guilt, pain and worry crossed Brom's already lined face. "Angela is doing all she can. Your mental shield is preventing his mind from being tormented by the remains of the spirits but the wound Durza gave him is grievous indeed." Murtagh shifted his weight painfully and the wince, along with the movement, caught Brom's eye. "Come," said the story-teller firmly, "I will treat your injuries. I know that Ajihad will want both of you to help him remove the Urgals and so you will need to get back to him quickly."

Revised 1/27/2014

Enjoy!