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Chapter 29: Thrusting Against the Shadows
Arya felt helpless as the life was choked out of her slowly by the Shade. She could vaguely hear voices as spots danced in her vision, and she began to feel lightheaded. She could sense her companions' desperation and rage, but she herself couldn't do anything about it.
Then, the Shade's grip slackened, as if taken by surprise.
Guided by instinct, Arya lashed out, breaking the monster's wrist soundly and leapt back, scrambling for her sword. She noted Eragon kneeling with a hand to his head before the Shade pounced on her angrily. With a yelp, she struggled against his strength as he tried to keep her away from her weapon. They rolled across the floor, the Shade surpisingly heavy despite Arya's elven strength. She coughed up blood as she struggled to breathe as much air as she could.
Eragon let out a shout, and the Shade suddenly froze. Arya grabbed her sword and slammed the pommel against the Shade's temple, throwing him off. She got to her feet as quickly as she could.
The Shade turned to Eragon, teeth bared in rage. "You must fear Varaug. Your strength cannot compare to ours," he hissed. "The bright stars in your waists shall be ours!"
He senses the strength you have stored in your belts! Firnen said in horror.
Eragon stared Varaug down calmly, as if unaffected by the attacks the Shade surely was sending to his mind. He grinned suddenly and struck the ground with his sword. "Vorstnar!"
Taken by surprise, Varaug slipped on the sheet of ice that suddenly engulfed the ground beneath him, radiating from the tip of Eragon's weapon. Arya laughed and mirrored Eragon's movement. "Deloi!" The pain on her throat intensified
The ground began to shake, knocking Varaug off his feet. Arya didn't spare any more time for thoughts. She plunged her sword through the Shade's heart. The abomination let out an unearthly wail, shattering the glass in the windows and the lanterns. Arya stumbled back as the dying creature reached out for her, skin transparent and showing the dozens of brilliant, glittering spirits using his flesh as a host. They throbbed, growing slowly, before breaking free as Varaug's skin split like ripped paper.
The spirits fled, leaving only Varaug's robes on the floor.
Arya tried to speak and coughed once more, afraid of the blood that dripped from her lips. Eragon approached her nervously with a glint of worry in his eyes. Gentle fingers touched her throat. "Waise heill," he whispered.
Icy energy wrapped around Arya's throat for a few seconds, mending the damage done by the Shade. "Thank you," Arya murmured with a small grin.
"We should call you Shadeslayer now, too," Eragon told her as he turned his back with a mischievous smile. He wrapped his arms around Saphira's neck.
The door flew open, and the elven spellcasters burst into the room with wild looks on their faces. Faolin ran to Arya and threw his arms around her. "Sister! I was so worried!" he cried out as he withdrew.
"Riders, are you unharmed?" Blodhgarm barked, checking Eragon critically for injuries.
"As well as could be," Eragon told him. He pointed to Lady Lorana, who was still sitting on her cushioned chair. "That is the Lady of Feinster, and I believe that she will come quietly. Blodgharm-elda, how fares the battle?"
"The foes have been routed. Your companions have done well," the elf replied.
At the courtyard, a long line of captured soldiers were being led away by their Varden counterparts. Jormundur escorted Lady Lorana to meet with Melikir – most probably to discuss the matters of Feinster and its people. Arya felt Firnen's concern through their bond.
Does something trouble you? She glanced at her dragon, whose eyes were the same exact shade as hers.
I cannot explain it, but something feels wrong. The smoke trailing out of Firnen's nose thickened, as it always did when he felt so much emotion.
Murtagh dismounted Thorn after making sure that the threats in the courtyard walls were all disabled. He was tired – so tired – and wanted nothing more than to reunite with the other Riders and maybe eat a big meal. There was still no news of Eragon, Arya, Saphira, and Firnen, and so the elves were dispatched to look for them.
He walked through the battlefield and to the glint of golden scales that marked Solaris' presence, and therefore Nasuada's. They steadily approached the two Riders, nodding to people who hailed him as "Shadeslayer" and "Kingsguard."
Nasuada turned as he approached, her lips curling into a most lovely smile. "It is good to see that you are well."
"Weary, but well, aye." Murtagh smiled. "And I could say the same to you, Nasuada."
Nasuada motioned to the battlefield. "So much life wasted, all for a mad king."
"If he knew the consequences of his actions then we cannot call him mad."
"I suppose." Nasuada turned to him, eyes gleaming like molten sunlight. She brushed a hand to his cheek, making him shudder. "But it is good to see that everyone I care for is safe for now."
"For now. I suppose we must savor the moment." Murtagh rested his hands on her cheeks. He smiled as he noticed her catching her breath. Before she could protest, he lightly brushed his lips against hers. "You'll never know if you'll get the chance again."
Someone cleared his throat. "I do not wish to ruin the moment, but Melikir seeks our presence," Roran announced with a mischievous grin on his face.
Murtagh turned to, alarmed. "You will not say a word," he growled.
Roran's grin widened. "I would never dream of it."
"You better be telling the truth, Stronghammer, or you will taste the power of my blade," Nasuada told him with a laugh.
Vanir watched the members of the Varden assemble Melikir's pavilion hastily on a vacant space between two warehouses. Everyone was exhausted but elated by their victory. To his other side, they gathered the casualties, not discriminating between friend and foe.
No one was sure about which people were misguided, and which were forced to fight for Galbatorix's whims. They all died for a madman.
Galbatorix had to die.
It was a while until he realized that tears were falling from his eyes. He raised no hand to wipe them away. He wept for the people who had to die because of Galbatorix. He did not know how long he stood there, shaking from the pain of realization that he was a fool for believing that war and might could solve the land's problems.
You are learning,Diamanda whispered. This is the reason that I chose you as my Rider, despite the numerous faults you have displayed when we first made contact.
Is this what we were taught to participate in? Slaughter? Vanir turned to his dragon, who gleamed like a pearl in the dying sun. Is this truly a worthy sacrifice for peace?
This does not please me either. But think. More lives are at stake if we let Galbatorix continue his reign.
Vanir nodded. He hastily wiped away his tears as he heard his companions approach the now-finished pavilion. He joined his equally battered and exhausted friends, glad that they did not see him in a moment of weakness.
"Where are our masters?" Katrina was the first to talk, sounding like she ran from Ellesmera to Feinster without stopping to eat or sleep.
"Master Ash left with Master Brand and Master Brom to confer on certain important matters as soon as the battle ended," explained Aesyr. Numerous cuts marred her otherwise perfect face, apparently too superficial to warrant her attention. "I have a bad feeling about all of it, to tell you the truth."
"What I do not understand is why my sister does not wish to let me know what is happening." Serylda walked toward their group, Aegar circling them in obvious agitation. "It is good to see you all so well after a battle like that."
"It isn't anything like the Battle of the Burning Plains," Vanir admitted in spite of himself. Just thinking of facing the Forsworn made him shudder. "No enemy Riders."
Eragon laughed lightly. "The defenders here are definitely not as big as Galbatorix's army either."
A soft trumpet sounded to herald Melikir's arrival. He was clad in armor, though he never was in the thick of battle due to the cuts on his arms. His Nighthawks trailed faithfully behind him, followed by Brom, Brand, and a teary Ash.
Melikir led them into his pavilion, which was bare aside from the war table and a dozen chairs for the small group. The Nighthawks stationed themselves outside the pavilion as Serylda took over the job to ward off eavesdroppers with a quick spell.
"Now then, before we begin with what I actually intended to talk to you with, with all due respect, Master Ash, what is this all about?" Melikir asked, settling into his usual business-like tone.
Ash nodded. "We have told you about our father, Oromis, and his father, Glaedr."
"Yes. They are with the elven army, are they not?"
But no more, wailed Brand, letting out a sky-shaking roar. Dead! Dead by Forsworn hands tainted with the blackness of the Mad King!
A cliffhanger feels like the best way to end the penultimate chapter, eh? Yep, Bloodforge will be closing later this week!
To be honest, chapters 28/29/30 all end with "the Shadows" because they are all supposed to be one freaking long chapter that I had to cut because... just because of personal reasons, yes, let's go with that!
I've got half of 30 finished already and it should be up within two or three days.
The next chapter will be pretty short, mostly blowing up with news of Oromis' death before closing with the rehabilitation process of Feinster and a looking forward to the future thing.
I've noted everyone's tips for the nicknames/titles. Thank you so much, guys!
We might hear from Lord Herion's sons (Astrid and Claus), and Bjorne the engineer next chapter if I feel like tacking them on for a "normal" POV.
Read and review, as always!
