Brisingr, from page 306
For almost two days after Eragon and Arya had returned to the Varden and given their report to Orrin and Nasuada, the camp enjoyed a period of peace and calm. Arya herself used the time in the best way she could - she rested. Several times during the course of the two days she saw Eragon walking about here and there with a purposeful look on his face, but as for herself, she enjoyed having no purpose at all for a time, however short that time might be.
She knew it would be short, but she never guessed just how short.
In the late morning of the second day, Arya looked up from the scroll she was reading in her tent as she heard the baying of a battle-horn in the distance. Tensing automatically, she put down the scroll and walked to her tent door, shaking down a foreboding she couldn't identify. Outside, the Varden was in chaos. Men and women were running in every direction; their yells and the sound of war-drums rent the air. Horses, terrified by the noise, added to the tumult by their panic. Arya stepped forward at caught the forearm of a man strapping on a sword as he ran by.
"What is it?" she called over the din. "Galbatorix, my lady! The man yelled back. "The soldiers are attacking the camp!" He wrenched free his arm and ran on.
Arya hesitated a moment, then dashed back into her tent and caught up her slender sword, which lay on the table. She was already garbed in armour. Pulling the sword belt over her head as she went, she ran swiftly to the embankments overlooking the river. There she found Nasuada and Jormunder, both mounted, Nasuada flanked by her Nighthawks. She wheeled round as Arya approached, breathing a sigh of relief.
"Arya. Thank the gods you are here. We need to-" the end of her sentence was cut off as Eragon and Saphira appeared above her, landing with a crash. At almost the same instant Orrin and his retinue appeared, riding at full gallop towards them, closely followed by the leaders of both the dwarves and the Urgals. Following Saphira's flight ran Blodhgarm and his elves. Despite the danger they were all in, Arya took the barest second to wonder at the group gathered on this ridge. Every sentient species in Alagaesia was represented here. Amazing.
But now was not the time for such musings. Nar Garzhvog, the last to arrive, barked out the question she saw in everyone's eyes: where were their enemies? Where was the huge force that had the Varden in such an uproar? Arya was already staring at the ships on the river. Not much of a force…. There seemed to be barely 300 men, and she said so.
"Why so few?" Wondered Jormunder out loud. No-one knew. Arya couldn't say why, but the lack of numbers sent a chill of fear through her heart. What does he know that we don't?
Another horn-blast echoed across the plane, so loud Eragon and the elves covered their ears. Arya saw Eragon wince in pain. The pain however, was quickly forgotten, brushed aside by the horror of what it heralded.
From the other side of the river, ruby-red in the bright sunlight, rose Thorn, with Murtagh on his back. Saphira's words were audible to the whole company, as was her fear.
They have come for us. She said.