Eragon stepped around the twisted and charred body of an Urgal, only half-listening to the sounds of women grieving as they searched the battle field for the bodies of loved ones. Behind him walked Saphira, who was doing her best to avoid stepping on the bodies of men and Urgals. The glittering blue of her scales was the only color in the gloom that filled the hollow mountain. Even the city of Tronjehiem seemed dimmed. Many of the streets were dark and the lights of lanterns were spread out across the city. It was a poor comparison to the city it had been when he had first arrived - then Tronjheim had shone with thousands of lights.

Six days, thought Eragon since the battle and yet the battlefield still looked as if the battle had raged the previous day. The sheer number of Urgal bodies had meant that the Varden was forced to burn them. No honored resting place for them. Instead a fire had been built at one end of the hollow mountain and the stench of burning flesh filled the air.

It was also six days since he had challenged Durza with Zoe by his side. Three since the destruction of the star sapphire. Three since he had woken to find his wound healed. It had been three days since the mysterious figure who had saved him and three since people had begun to call him 'Shadeslayer.' A title that would once have made him feel strong and proud but now made him feel heavy. The price of that act was only now making itself apparent - since Angela had allowed him up and about he had tried to assist in the recovery. On each and every occasion, even if the act was as small as picking up a broken sword, he had experienced a dull ache that would increase in intensity until he stopped and rested. The pain came from his new scar and, while Angela and Arya had been unable to find anything wrong with him, Zoe had been able to explain it to him.

The pain, she had told him, was a curse left by the Shade. According to her the attacks were not as serious as they had been in the history she knew but she could not say whether or not they would increase in severity as time passed. The reason, she thought, was because she had protected him with her own shield the minute Durza was destroyed and this had prevented the Shade from worsening the curse his death had layed on Eragon. Her only piece of advice was to limit his physical activity as much as possible and, as he was still very much recovering, it was not as hard as it might have been.

Eragon stopped and glanced around. He was in the centre of the battlefield and he was still unsure of why he had come here. Perhaps it was the desire to see the destruction and the pain that had been unleashed here or maybe just to confirm that the battle was truly over. He did not know nor was he sure he really wanted to know. The ground he stood on was moist with blood and in some places the bodies were piled on top of each other. Eragon had come to the conclusion that whether you were a man or a dwarf or an Urgal you died the same. Death was an equalizer of the most powerful kind.

At one point, it seemed so long ago now, he may have been destroyed by the carnage that lay around him. Now, instead of horrifying him, it numbed him to the core. This numbness allowed him to sleep at night, to walk among the bodies like he did now and to speak of the battle without shivering in recollection. To reach this state of mind had taken Saphira's help as well as the words of Zoe and Arya but, as he found out from them, the only way to keep his sanity was to keep busy. If there was one thing he had learned from this battle it was that the stories of glorious war were as far from the truth as it was possible to get. The only glory or honor was in saving innocent lives in the future. If he had to fight a thousand wars he would do it for the peace that would follow.

Glancing back at the city he thought of his friends and father. Zoe and Arya were probably embroiled in a council to help get the Varden back on its feet. His young friend had proved very capable in organizing supplies, messages and other details while Arya also assisted in the healing of soldiers. Brom was most likely assisting them as well as providing leadership while Ajihad continued to ferret out Urgals who had escaped in the dwarf tunnels. Murtagh had returned to the patrols the previous day - though Zoe had been strangely worried about it. In fact Zoe had been strangely on edge for the past few days and, while Eragon put it down to the battle, he was unsure if there was more to it than that.

Then there was the drama of Nasuada that occurred two days previously. Ajihad's daughter had remained behind to fight in the battle and her father's anger had been nearly as fierce as a dragon's when roused. Zoe had later confided to him that she had known of Nasuada's plan but had not wanted to deny the other woman the chance to fight for her people. While Eragon still struggled with the concept of a woman in battle his time with both Zoe and Arya had shown that gender was no hinderance for skill. He smiled inwardly at what Zoe would have said had she known his thoughts.

I will be leaving soon, thought Eragon. It was true; he had already made plans with Arya to leave within the next week. He had yet to see if Zoe would accompany him. Brom had told him that he would be remaining with the Varden and Murtagh would most likely remain with him. Things were still too vague and undefined but Eragon already knew he would miss his father and his half-brother. He had grown used to having them by his side. Not to mention Zoe.

You will still have me. said Saphira in his mind. The dragon and Rider continued their walk through the fields of the dead.

I know he said with a smile, but it will be strange not to have Brom around or Murtagh or Zoe. I've grown used to having them watching my back and offering advice.

You will meet up with them again.

Maybe but that does not make any less strange. Skirting the body of a dead horse, Eragon stopped again and wondered idly if he should return to the city. He could not suppress the feeling of dread. Returning meant facing the Varden and pretending he was stronger than he really was.

The feeling of another mind reaching out to touch his made Eragon tighten the barriers he had kept around him since the battle. Eragon, the voice of Brom echoed through the link and Eragon lowered his boundries to allow his father to speak better to him.

What? asked the Rider. Through their bond he knew Saphira was listening to their conversation.

Ajihad is returning along with Murtagh. Meet me and the others at the west gate of Tronjheim.

Saphira and I will be there. Carefully scrambling onto Saphira's back he did not bother with the straps as the dragon took flight and began to angle towards the gate. Eragon smiled slightly, he was certain that without Saphira's constant support these last few days he would not have survived. If anything his injury and the events surrounding it had only deepened their bond.

As Eragon and Saphira rounded Tronjheim, a small group became visible against the white marble of the city walls. Among them was the dwarf, Orik, who was impatiently shifting from leg to leg and holding his axe tightly in one hand. Beside him was Arya, looking aloof and calmly regal. The white bandage around her arm gleamed in the light cast by one of the dwarven lights. Zoe was not there, to Eragon's surprise, but Brom was along with Jormünder.

Saphira landed beside the small group and they exchanged greetings. Voicing a question, Eragon asked. "Where is Zoe? I thought she would be here."

Brom shrugged, "I have not seen her for the last few hours nor have I been able to contact her. She must be busy somewhere else."

Nodding Eragon and the others fell silent. He and Saphira spoke of little, inconsequential things merely enjoying each others presence and words in the privacy of their minds and bond.

It was then that they saw the shape of figures in the tunnel...


I stood in the shadow of the entrance to the tunnel. My plan was simple: stay hidden and let the group of warriors leave the tunnel, warn Murtagh with my mind and then intercept the Urgals before they could completely overrun the group and stay as close to Murtagh as possible. If Ajihad survived then he did. If he did not then I would worry about that later. There were forces at work that were far more powerful than me and Ajihad's fate was in their hand.

I gripped my bow even tighter with my sweaty hands. Where were they? The longer I stood here the more nervous I got. I had no idea of how long I been there nor did it really matter. All that mattered was what was coming and the game of fate I was about to play – that I was playing.

As I waited in the shadows, I thought back over the last few days. Since Eragon had woken I had been swept into the inner workings of the Varden and I had found myself remembering more and more of my previous life. Making lists of supplies, organizing this and that had been a familiar part of my routine as princess and then commander in my home. The intricacies of diplomacy and the organizing of an army was nothing strange to me but it was exhausting.

The Council of Elders, a group of Varden leaders, was also less than keen to see Brom, who was acting for Ajihad until he returned, hand over so much power to a relatively unknown quadrant. I may be a hero in the eyes of the people but I was a usurper to the Council. They had grudgingly moved aside and allowed me the freedom I needed to act.

To my surprise and relief I found that King Hrothgar was more than willing to work with me. Because the Varden and dwarves were so interconnected it had required that any decision made regarding supplies, weapons and ect. had to include the dwarves. I met with the dwarf king three times and on all three occasions I left feeling like I had managed to accomplish something. Hrothgar was a cunning and effective leader who was more than open to listening to me and my suggestions. It was refreshing and I think I even managed to turn some of his wary and stubborn advisors to my side.

Then there was Eragon. I had held onto the faint hope that, somehow, Durza's awful curse had been avoided but that hope was quickly dashed. However, there was no point wishing things would go easier for Eragon. In some was this was a good thing and there was nothing I could do to change it. Nothing any of us, from Angela to Arya to Brom to me, did had helped Eragon at all. So for the last few days Eragon had mostly stayed with Saphira in an empty guard room on the upper levels or flying within the city mountain. He would meet up with me, Arya and Brom usually in the evening. In other words: he remained as far as possible from the adoring, cheering crowds of the Varden.

I was forced to smile ever so slightly as my thoughts drifted to Nasuada. In preparation for whatever occurred in the future, I had included her in many of the meetings and discussions I had been a part of during the last few days. Nasuada had also been assigned too many tasks by Brom, who already respected and sympathized with her and the challenges she faced. Not everyone, namely the Council of Elders, had been pleased by this development. Nor had Ajihad been at all pleased to discover what Nasuada had been up to during the battle.

Enough of that now. You must be wondering exactly I am. I have already told you that I am in the entrance of the west tunnel but not what this tunnel and the ground outside looks like. As terrain is a rather important thing when planning for a fight I shall do my best to describe my surroundings to you.

This particular tunnel was quite tall – maybe fifteen or so feet tall and was the most used by dwarves coming from the dwarven cities in the west. It was wide enough for three or four horses to walk abreast quite comfortably. The ground rose up in a gentle slant to the entrance and then leveled out as you left it. The gently glowing lights that the dwarves used were placed every few feet along the wall. A few rocks littered the ground and I made careful note of them so I would not trip. There is one key thing you should know: there was a sharp corner about fifty feet inside the tunnel before it straightened out and led to the surface. This corner created a convient way of ambushing someone from behind (sound familiar?).

I was nestled in a nook created by door and the wall. The shadows here were thick and I had not moved from this place for the last hour or so. I forced myself to stay relaxed and I occasionally flexed my muscles to try and keep them ready for the upcoming fight.

In the last few days I had done my best to create a plan that was simple and yet answered three important problems. The first was that there was still one Twin alive who would no doubt want revenge on the Varden. I suspected that he would be part of this mission and so I had to contend with a magic user. Problem number two was that this was a 'protect Murtagh' mission but actually doing that was another matter entirely. I would have to be quick on my feet and make sure he knew to be watching for an attack – whether it was a physical or mental one. Problem number three was Ajihad. In many ways, despite how horrible it sounds reader, I would rather he died. Nusauda was the leader the Varden leader for the upcoming trials. Yet, I could not reconcile myself with not trying to do all I could to save him.

As I mentioned before, my plan was to warn Murtagh and make sure that I was close to him and Ajihad when they attacked. I did not want to become surrounded by Urgals because, frankly, I probably could not survive that. So I was going to wait until the last possible moment and hope like mad it worked.

It was then that I began to sense conciousnesses coming towards me from the dark depths of the tunnel. A quick check confirmed that they were indeed the party of warriors that included both Murtagh and Ajihad. My hand tightened around my bow and I silently drew an arrow out of my quiver. My heart beat sped up and I felt the tingling rush of adrenalin as it began to course through my viens. I rolled my shoulders a few times and prepared myself as best I could for what was to come.

It was then that the group rounded the corner and I saw Murtagh near the centre and Ajihad was in front. Quickly sending out my mind I found the Urgals not far behind. A little farther back I found the heavily armored mind of the twin. A little spark of anger rose inside of me as I touched his slimy and nasty mind.

Bringing my mind back to the rapidly approaching group, I slipped into both Murtagh's and Ajihad's minds and, without speaking to them; I filled their senses with a feeling of impending doom. I had done this before Eragon and Brom were attacked by the Raz'ac so long ago outside of Dras'Leona. It had worked there and it worked again. My warning made the already wary Murtagh and battle hardened Ajihad instantly double the defenses around their minds and grip their sword hilts all the tighter as they readied themselves for whatever was coming. I could not stop myself from sending a similar warning to all those in the group. I was not as selfish or cold-blooded as to deny them the same warning as I gave Murtagh. They all deserved to live but I could protect all of them and so this would have to do.

The group of warriors passed by my hiding place just as the Urgals reached the sharp corner. I slowed my breathing and sent a quick prayer to whoever listened to them. This was it.

The warriors were almost all the way outside when the Urgals surged from behind and sending a final burst of warning to Murtagh, I raised my bow and fired. The silver shaft found its mark in the neck of one of the Urgals and a second quickly removed another one of the creatures.

I heard the sounds of warnings and shouts coming from the men but the Urgals were already on me. Whipping out my sword I quickly stepped back into the light of the tunnel which blinded the Urgals as they left the dark shadows of the tunnel. However, this advantage did not last for long and within moments I was surrounded by a mix of Varden soldiers and Urgals. No one had time or desire to ask 'where I had just come from.' Which was awesome because fighting was what we all needed to concentrate on then we could deal with questions – as long as we were all alive.

I saw Murtagh a little ways to my right and I did my best to fight my way to him. He sent me a confused look but there was no time for words and so we found ourselves fighting together, our swords flashing beside one another as we fought the Urgals. Ajihad was obscured by the Urgals but there was little time to wonder if he was still alive or not.

It was then that I felt the touch of that twin's mind. The awful feeling of that touch made me react as strongly as I had ever reacted to the touch of another's mind. I literally punched his daylights out with my own mind and the pain of the blow sent the twin scrambling behind his barriers. However, the twin was not as strong as I had suspected. He must be severely weakened after the death of his brother.

Slashing an Urgal through the heart I sent another mental attack towards the twin and this time I crushed his barriers ruthlessly. Let me tell you dear reader I took multi-tasking to another whole level. I was still surrounded by Urgals, still had to fight as hard as I could and make sure Murtagh stayed safe but I was also taking control over the twin. A well aimed smack with my bow to the side of the head followed by a slash of my sword finished off an Urgul. At the same time another mental attack knocked the twin out.

It was then, as happens in many small but intense fights, everything is over. Murtagh was standing beside me, we were both panting hard and both our blades were stained red with Urgal blood. I saw four Urgals, who had managed to survive, running back into the tunnel. A quick glance around showed me that Murtagh and I were surrounded by both the bodies of both men and Urgals. Without really considering what I was doing I sent Murtagh a quick glance and said. "Stay here!"

He opened his mouth to say something but I did not wait. Instead I leapt forward and back into the dark mouth of the tunnel. My sword glowed slightly and by its light I saw the quickly retreating backs of the Urgals. Running as fast as I could I followed them but they were far faster than I was. As I rounded the corner I saw the limp body of the twin slumped against the wall. The Urgals had left him behind in their haste to escape.

I came to a sliding stop in front of the unconscious man. It was then that I saw that the Urgals had decided to put an end to him as they made their escape. They must have decided that he was a useless extra to carry with them as they tried to outrun the Varden. A crude black Urgal blade had been thrown through his heart and the blood was staining the white of his already filthy and bloodstained clothes.

I did not know what to do. Looking at the dead man before me it was hard, so hard reader, to see the kind of man who was so hungry for power he would betray thousands. Shaking my head I wiped my sword clean and sheathed it. I had to return to the others and see if Ajihad had made it through or not. Turning away I hurried away from the dead body and the chill of death that hung around it. The fate of the twins was a reminder that greed and a lust for power never ended happily.

I stopped briefly at the two Urgals I had killed with my arrows to retrieve those shafts before heading back outside. Those arrows were from my old home and I could not bear to just discard them like regular arrows.

The familiar stench of death greeted me as I emerged and saw a few of the soldiers who had managed to survive checking the bodies of those who had not in the hopes they might still live. Over half of the warriors who had ridden with Ajihad had not survived the attack despite my warnings. Of the four dwarven guides who had been with them I only saw one standing.

However, those were not the ones I was most worried about. I searched for Murtagh and saw him cleaning his blade beside Saphira. He looked relatively unharmed but it was then that my eyes fell on the group huddled beside a body.

A cold chill crept over my heart and the world flashed in front of my eyes as I realized just what had happened. My suspicion was confirmed as I saw the identical expressions of grief, pain and horror on Arya, Eragon and Broms faces. For, lying on the dark ground surrounded by dead Urgals and the bodies of the men who had tried to protect him, was Ajihad of the Varden.