Magic is Force: Chapter 20
Fatigued and haggard, but with triumphant smiles, Eragon, Murtagh, Saphira, and the unconscious elf surrounded a fire, congratulating each other. Saphira crowed jubilantly which startled the horses. As Eragon stared at the flames, he was proud that they had managed to cover sixty leagues in five days. It was an impressive feat, even for a rider able to change mounts regularly. They had managed to traverse the great length of the Hadarac Desert for over past several weeks. They now took refuge at the base of the Beor Mountains. Counting down the days using his fingertips, Eragon tallied twenty-seven days since their escape from Gil'ead. Twenty-seven days of pondering and worrying for Karn; he wasn't sure if he was still alive or dead at the hands of Durza.
After their escape, it took both Saphira and Murtagh's effort to stop him from returning to the fortress to save him. It was hard for him to accept the circumstances which he was placed in but he had to. His close friend had sacrifice himself to ensure his safety and the rest of his companions. However, the mere thought of leaving him behind left a poor distaste within his mouth. His conscious battered him for several days over the issue. His only hope though was that Karn had managed to escape from the shade and is somehow making his way to them. How though is the question? He thought to himself.
With a sigh, he abandoned his worries and focused his attention on the elf stretched out by Saphira. The fire's orange light gave her face a warm cast. Smooth shadows flickered under her cheekbones. As he stared, an idea slowly came to him. I might be able to learn from her memories why she remains unconscious. But if she recovers, would she forgive me for such an intrusion? . . . Whether she does or not, I must try. She's been in this condition for the entire length of this journey. Without speaking his intentions to Murtagh or Saphira, he knelt before the elf and placed his hand on her brow.
Eragon closed his eyes and extended a tendril of thought, like a probing finger, towards the elf's mind. He found it without difficulty. It was not fuzzy and filled with pain as he had anticipated, but lucid and clear, like a note from a crystal bell. Suddenly an icy dagger drove into his mind. Pain exploded behind his eyes with splashes of color. He recoiled from the attack but found himself held in an iron grip, unable to retreat.
A stifling blanket pressed down on Eragon from all directions, smothering his thoughts. The overpowering force slowly contracted, squeezing the life out of him bit by bit, though he held on, unwilling to give up. He desperately cried in the ancient language, "Eka ai fricai un Shur'tugal!" I am a Rider and friend! The deadly embrace did not loosen its hold, but its constriction halted and surprise emanated from her.
The pressure eventually lifted, and the barriers around the elf's mind hesitantly lowered. The elf warily let their thoughts touch, like two wild animals meeting for the first time. A cold shiver ran down his spine; her mind was alien and it felt vast and powerful.
What is your name? she asked, speaking in the ancient language. Her voice was weary and filled with quiet despair.
Eragon. And yours? Her consciousness lured him closer, inviting him to submerge himself in the lyric strains of her blood. For the first time he understood the fey attraction of elves. They were creatures of magic, unbound by the mortal laws of the land – as different from humans as dragons were from animals.
… Arya. Why have you contacted me in this manner? Am I still a captive of the Empire?
No, you are free! Said Eragon. Though he knew only scattered words in the ancient language, he managed to convey: I was imprisoned in Gil'ead, like you, but I escaped and rescued you. For twenty-seven days since then, we've crossed the edge of the Hadarac Desert and are now camped by the Beor Mountains. You've not stirred nor said a word in all that time.
Ah… so it was Gil'ead. She paused. I know that my wounds were healed. At the time I did not understand why – preparation for some new torture, I was certain. Now I realize it was you. Softly she added, Even so, I have not risen, and you are puzzled.
Yes.
During my captivity, a rare poison, the Skilna Bragh, was given to me, along with the drug to suppress my power. Every morning the antidote for the previous day's poison was administered to me, by force if I refused to take it. Without it I will die within a few hours. That is why I lie in this trance – I've slowed the progress of the poison immensely, though it does not stop it.
How long can you remain like this? Asked Eragon.
For weeks, but I'm afraid I haven't that much time. This dormancy cannot restrain death forever…I can feel it in my veins even now. Unless I receive the antidote, I will succumb to the poison within a week.
Where can the antidote be found?
It exists in only two places outside of the Empire: with my own people and with the Varden. However, my home is beyond the reach of dragonback.
What about the Varden? We would have taken you straight to them, but we don't know where they are.
I will tell you – if you give me your word that you will never reveal their location to Galbatorix or to anyone who serves him. In addition you must swear that you have not deceived me in some manner and that you intend no harm to the elves, dwarves, Varden, or the race of dragons.
Without hesitation, Eragon swore his oath to the elf-maiden. It is understood… A series of vertigo-inducing images suddenly flashed through his mind. He found himself riding along the Beor Mountain range, traveling eastward many leagues.
Eragon did his best to remember the route as craggy mountains and hills flashed past. He was heading south now, still following the mountains. Then everything wheeled abruptly, and he entered a narrow, winding valley. It snaked through the mountains to the base of a frothy waterfall that pounded into a deep lake.
The images stopped. It is far, said Arya, but do not let the distance dissuade you. When you arrive at the Lake Kóstha-mérna at the end of the Beartooth River, take a rock, bang on the cliff next to the waterfall, and cry, Aì varden abr du Shur'tugalar gata vanta. You will be admitted. You will be challenged, but do not falter no matter how perilous it seems.
What should they give you for the poison? He asked.
Her voice quavered, but then she regained her strength. Tell them – to give me Tunivor's Nectar. You must leave now… I have expended too much energy already. Do not talk with me again unless there is no hope of reaching the Varden. If that is the case, there is information I must impart to you so the Varden will survive. Farewell, Eragon, rider of dragons… my life is in your hands.
Arya withdrew from their contact. The unearthly strains that echoed across their link were gone. Eragon took a shuddering breath and forced his eyes open. Murtagh and Saphira stood on either side of him, watching with concern. "Are you alright?" asked Murtagh. "You've been kneeling there for almost fifteen minutes."
Eragon stood, wincing as his cramped knees stretched. "I talked with Arya!" Murtagh frowned quizzically, as if to inquire if he had gone made. Eragon explained, "The elf - that's her name."
And what is it that ails her? Asked Saphira impatiently.
Eragon swiftly told them of his entire discussion. "How far away are the Varden?" asked Murtagh.
"I'm not exactly sure," confessed Eragon. "From what she showed me, I think it's even farther than from here to Gil'ead."
"And we're supposed to cover that within a week?" demanded Murtagh angrily. "It took us twenty-seven long days to get here! What do you want us to do, kill the horses? They're exhausted as it is."
"But if we do nothing, she'll die! If it's too much for the horses, Saphira can fly ahead with Arya and me; at least we would get to the Varden in time. You could catch up with us in a few days."
Murtagh grunted and crossed his arms. "If you decide to follow such a plan, I will leave you here then. I will not go to the Varden."
"What do you mean you won't go to the Varden?" Eragon asked.
"Going to the Varden would be the same as if being imprisoned within the walls of Urù'baen."
"I don't understand. You have to explain yourself, Murtagh."
"The hell I will!" he suddenly shouted out in anger.
Eragon was taken back in surprise. Never has he seen Murtagh this upset about an issue while in his company aside from his occasional sour moods.
"What's the matter with you? Why won't you go with me to the Varden?" questioned Eragon.
"The'll expect things from me that I can't deliver."
"Did you steal something from them?"
"I wish it were that simple."
Eragon rolled his eyes, exasperated. "Well what is it, then? Did you kill someone important or bed the wrong women?"
"No, I was born," said Murtagh cryptically.
"You're avoiding the question," Eragon said coming to stand but a foot away from Murtagh. They stared at each other with rough expressions.
"So what?" spat Murtagh as he stomped to the edge of camp. After a minute he sighed. "It doesn't matter why I'm in this predicament, but I can tell you that the Varden wouldn't welcome me even if I came bearing the king's head. Oh, they might greet me nicely enough and let me into their councils, but trust me? Never. And if I were to arrive under less fortuitous circumstances, like the present ones, they'd be likely to clap me in irons."
"Won't you tell me what this is about?" asked Eragon. "I've done things I'm not proud of, too, so it's not as if I'm going to pass judgment."
"Murtagh shook his head slowly, eyes glistening. "It isn't like that. I haven't done anything to deserve this treatment, though it would have been easier to atone for if I had. No… my only wrongdoing is existing in the first place." He stopped and took a shaky breath. "You see, my father-"
A sharp hiss from Saphira cut him off abruptly. Look!
They followed her gaze westward. Murtagh's face paled. "Demons above and below!"
A league or so away, parallel to the mountain range, was a column of figures marching east. The line of troops, hundreds strong, stretched for nearly a mile. Dust billowed from their heels. Their weapons glinted in the dying light. A standard-bearer rode before them in a black chariot, holding aloft a crimson banner.
"It's the Empire," said Eragon tiredly. "They've found us…somehow." Saphire poked her head over his shoulder and gazed at the column.
"Yes…but those are Urgals, not men," said Murtagh.
"How can you tell?"
Murtagh pointed at the standard. "That flag bears the personal symbol of an Urgal chieftain. He's a ruthless brute, given to violent fits and insanity."
"You've met him?"
Murtagh's eyes tightened. "Once, briefly. I still have scars from that encounter. These Urgals might not have been sent here for us, but I'm sure we've been seen by now and that they will follow us. Their chieftain isn't the sort to let a dragon escape his grasp, especially if he's heard about Gil'ead."
Eragon hurried to the fire and covered it with dirt. "We have to flee! You don't want to go to the Varden, but I have to take Arya to them before she dies. Here's a compromise: come with me until I reach the lake Kóstha-mérna, then go your own way." Murtagh hesitated. Eragon added quickly, "If you leave now, in sight of the column, Urgals will follow you. And then where will you be, facing them alone?"
"Very well," said Murtagh, tossing his saddlebags over Tornac's flanks, "but when we near the Varden, I will leave."
Eragon wanted to further question Murtagh but not with the Urgals so near. He gather his belongins and saddled Snowfire. Saphira fanned her wings, took off in a rush, and circled above. She kept guard over Murtagh and Eragon as they left camp.
What direction shall I fly? She asked.
East, along the Beors!
Stilling her wings, Saphira rose on an updraft and teetered on a pillar of warm air, hovering in the sky over the horses. I wonder why the Urgals are here. Maybe they were sent to attack the Varden.
Then we shall try to warn them, he said, guiding Snowfire past half-visible obsticles. As the night deepend, the Urgals faded into the gloom behind them.
(Time Change)
For the fifth day since learning the whereabouts of the Varden, Eragon, Murtagh and Saphira made haste towards lake Kóstha-mérna. There they hope to find the entrance to the Varden before the column of Urgals could catch them. On the third day, the company had managed to travel many leagues putting distance between them and the gruesome creatures, believing they had lost them. However, their hopes were shattered when they spotted the column over miles away on the morning of the fourth. They pace had quickened and they were gaining grown on the group.
Fortune had smiled upon them though, for on the fifth they had managed to discover the valley's mouth that would lead them towards lake Kóstha-mérna. Bringing Snowfire to a halt at the mouth, he was surprised to find Murtagh at his heels on Tornac. "Here's your chance," Eragon announced. "Once we enter that valley there is no turning back. The Urgals will be upon us soon. If you left, now that would divide their forces."
"It would be suicide," said Murtagh, crossing his arms. "Those Urgals are somehow faster on foot than we are on horseback. They would be on you and run you down like a deer. The only way to evade them is to take refuge with the Varden."
Elated, Eragon was overjoyed to see that Murtagh had decided to come along for the rest of this journey. Their time to part ways would come later, giving him opportune time to learn more of him.
"So you're staying?" he asked.
"I'll see you to the Varden," promised Murtagh. "Besides," he said and punched Eragon on the shoulder, "with Karn gone, who's going to protect you and Saphira."
Murtagh never meant to mean it that way, Eragon knew. However, the prospect that Karn was no longer part of their company or perhaps even dead made him discomfort. He pushed the idea out of his mind and flicked Snowfire's reins, urged the horse to run. The stallion rushed into the open gap between the mountain ranges with Murtagh following close behind.
Far above, Saphira flew through the valley, keeping a watch for the supposedly lake and waterfall that would lead them into the Varden. However, the valley grew thick with tall trees, difficult to navigate through. The forest gave Eragon an uneasy feeling; the hair on the back of his neck prickled. There was something hostile in the air, as if the trees wished no being to enter.
The forest grows thicker further in, replied Saphira from above.
We'll have to try our best to push through. We cannot afford to spare any time trying to find a way around, stated Eragon.
Without a clear trail to follow, the tough underbrush slowed Eragon and Murtagh. The Beartooth River wound next to them, filling the air with the sound of gurgling water. By mid-day, Murtagh and Eragon stopped in a glade to rest the horses, Saphira joining them. Her wings were strangely muted as she landed.
Do you mind if I ride you awhile? I want to keep an eye on the Urgals, asked Eragon.
Of course.
He turned to Murtagh. "The Varden are hidden at the end of the valley. If we hurry, we might get there before nightfall."
Murtagh grunted, hands on his hips. "How am I going to get out of here? I don't see any valleys joining this one, and the Urgals are going to hem us in pretty soon. I need an escape route."
"Don't worry about it," said Eragon impatiently. "This is a long valley; there's sure to be an exit further in." He released Arya from Saphira and lifted the elf onto Snowfire. "Watch Arya – I'm going to fly with Saphira. We'll meet you ahead." He scrambled onto Saphira's back and strapped himself onto her saddle.
"Be careful," Murtagh warned, his brow furrowed in thought, then clucked to the horses and hurried back into the forest.
As Saphira jumped toward the sky, Eragon said, Head towards the entrance of the valley. Let's determine the progress of the Urgal column. They floated on the gentle air currents, drifting from one mountain to the next, until Eragon saw that the Urgal column had reached the valley's mouth. What drives them to such speed, and how can they bear to sustain it?
Now that we are closer to them, Saphira said, I can see that these Urgals are bigger than the ones we've met before. They would stand chest and shoulders over a tall man. I don't know what land they march from, but it must be a fierce place to produce such brutes.
Eragon glared at the ground below – he could not see the detail that she did. If they keep up this pace, the'll catch Murtagh before we find the Varden.
Have hope. The forest may hamper their progress… Would it be possible to stop them with magic?
Eragon shook his head. Stop them…no. There are too many. He thought of the thin layer of mist on the valley floor and grinned. But I might be able to delay them a bit. He closed his eyes, selected the words he needed, stared at the mist, and then commanded, "Gath un reisa du rakr!"
There was a disturbance below. From above, it looked as if the ground was flowing together like a great sluggish river. A leaden band of mist gathered in front of the Urgals and thickened into an intimidating wall, dark as a thunderhead. The Urgals hesitated before it, then continued forward like an unstoppable battering ram. The barrier swirled around them, concealing the lead ranks from view.
The drain on Eragon's strength was sudden and massive, making his heart flutter like a dying bird. He gasped, eyes rolling. He struggled to sever the magic's hold on him; with a savage growl he jerked away from the magic and broke contact.
The wall of mist dissipated, and the fog sluggishly collapsed across the ground like a tower of mud sliding apart. The Urgals had not been hindered at all. Eragon lay limply on Saphira, panting. Only now did he remember Brom and Karn saying, "Magic is affected by distance, just like an arrow or a spear. If you try to life or move something a mile away, it'll take more energy than if you were closer." "Since I joined the Grey Knights, I had to quickly learn the magnitude of my actions and always think out the consequences." I won't forget that again, he thought grimly.
You shouldn't have forgotten their advice in the first place, Saphira inserted pointedly. First the Urgals on our way to Dras-Leona and now this. Weren't you paying attention to anything Brom or Karn told you? You'll kill yourself if you keep this up.
I paid attention, he insisted, rubbing his chin. It's just been a while, and I haven't had an opportunity to think back on it. I've never used magic at a distance, so how could I know it would be so difficult?
She growled. Next thing I know you'll try to do is bring corpses back to life. Don't forget what Brom said about that, too.
I won't, he said impatiently. Saphira dipped toward the ground, searching for Murtagh and the horses. Eragon would have helped her, but he barely had the energy to sit up. She settled in a small field with a jolt, and Eragon was puzzled to see the horses stopped and Murtagh tending to Arya. When Eragon did no dismount, Murtagh hurried over and inquired, "What's wrong?" He sounded angry, worried, and tired at the same time.
"… I made a mistake," said Eragon truthfully. "The Urgals have entered the valley. I tried to confuse them, but I forgot one of the rules of magic, and it cost me a great deal."
Scowling, Murtagh began to nimble on his thumbnail. "I can't believe that the same Urgals have been following us the whole time. They would have to be birds to catch up with us."
"Saphira said they're larger than any we've seen," remarked Eragon.
Murtagh cursed, clenching the pommel of his sword. "That explains it! Saphira, if you're right, then those are Kull, elite of the Urgals. I should have guessed that the chieftain had been put in charge of them. They don't ride because horses can't carry their weight – not one of them is under eight feet tall – and they can run for days without sleep and still be ready for battle. It can take five men to kill only one. Kull never leave their caves except for war, so they must expect a great slaughter if they are out in such a force."
"Can we stay ahead of them?"
Murtagh quickly ran forward and began unstrapping the buckles securing Eragon's legs. "No we cannot!" he said with urgency. He ran back towards Arya, and pulled her off from Snowfire's saddle and rushed her over to Saphira. "The Kull will be on us at all cost – they will not let their prey escape if they are in pursuit. We need to leave now."
With great difficulty, Eragon weakly dismounted Saphira and Murtagh placed the elf into the saddle and secured her. "How is Arya?" asked Eragon as he trudged over to Snowfire.
Murtagh followed suit and mounted Tornac. "The fever's worse. She's been tossing and turning. What do you expect? Her strength is failing. You should fly her to the Varden before the poison does any more damage."
"I won't leave you behind," insisted Eragon. He dipped his hand into Snowfire's saddlebags and pulled out a piece of bread. Each bite granting him with renewed strength. "Not with the Urgals so near."
Murtagh shrugged. "As you wish. But I'm warning you, she won't live if you stay with me."
"Don't say that," insisted Eragon, pushing himself upright into Snowfire's saddle. "Help me-" He stopped suddenly as a horn echoed through the dark forest. In unison, both riders whipped the reins making the horses dash into the forest. Saphira quickly jumped into the air, wings unfurled climbing above Eragon and Murtagh.
"We can't stop until we reach the lake!" shouted Murtagh. Eragon gave a silent nod and the two drove the horses hard into the afternoon and early evening.
Darkness began to engulf the valley, settling over the trees and mountains like an inky cloud. Eragon looked towards the sky, which still held the afterglow of sunset. The mountains dark silhouettes curved together to form a rough bowl that closed off the valley. The head of the valley isn't much farther! He exclaimed. He stretched out his mind towards Saphira's. Do you think that the Varden know we're coming? Maybe they'll send men out to help us.
I doubt they'll assist us until they know if we are friend or foe, Saphira said as she suddenly began to dip towards the earth. I'm returning to you. We should stay together now. It is difficult for me to find the Urgals, they could sneak up on us without our knowing.
The group reconvened off to the left of the Beartooth River. The horses were trembling from the exertion, foam was forming at the mouth. Murtagh came up to Eragon and inquired, "Did Saphira notice any valley or gorge ahead that I can leave through?"
No I could not determine if the valley broke off into small crevices or valleys. It is dark, so I may have missed something, but…no."
Eragon relayed the information back to Murtagh. He swore explosively and came to an abrupt halt, dragging on the horse's reins until they halted as well. "Are you saying that the only place I can go is to the Varden?"
"Yes," exclaimed Eragon. "But keep running. The Urgals are almost upon us!"
"No!" said Murtagh angrily. He stabbed a finger at Eragon. "I warned you that I wouldn't go to the Varden, but you went ahead and trapped me between a hammer and an anvil! You're the one with the elf's memories. Why didn't you tell me this was a dead end?"
Eragon bristled at the barrage and retorted, "All I knew was where we had to go, not what lay in between. Don't blame me for choosing to come."
Murtagh's breath hissed between his teeth as he furiously spun away. All Eragon could see of him was a motionless, bowed figure. His own shoulders were tense, and a vein throbbed on the side of his neck. He put his hands on his hips, impatience rising.
Why have we stopped? Asked Saphira, alarmed. We must keep going!
Don't distract me. "What's your quarrel with the Varden? It can't be to terrible that you must keep it hidden even now. Would you rather fight the Kull than reveal it? How long will it be before you finally trust me?"
There was a long silence.
The Urgals! Reminded Saphira urgently.
I know, said Eragon, pushing back his temper. But I need to resolve this first.
Quickly, quickly! Urged Saphira.
"Murtagh," said Eragon earnestly, "unless you wish to die, we must go to the Varden. Don't let me walk into their arms without knowing how they will react to you. It's going to be dangerous enough without unnecessary surprises."
Finally Murtagh turned to Eragon. His breathing was hard and fast, like that of a cornered wolf. He paused, then said with a tortured voice, "You have a right to know. I … am the son of Morzan, first and last of the Forsworn."
Eragon was speechless. Disbelief roared through his mind as he tried to reject Murtagh's words. The Forsworn never had any children, least of all Morzan. Morzan! The man who betrayed the Riders to Galbatorix and remained the king's favorite servant for the rest of his life. Could it be true?
Saphira's own shock reached him a second later. She quickly bared her fangs towards Morzan's son, tail raised threateningly. Be ready for anything, she warned. He may be able to use magic.
"You are his heir?" asked Eragon, surreptitiously reaching for Zar'roc. What would he want with me? Is he really working for the king?
"I didn't choose this!" cried Murtagh, anguish twisting his face. He ripped at his clothes with a desperate air, tearing off his tunic and shirt to show his bare torso. "Look!" he pleaded, and turned his back to Eragon.
Unsure, Eragon learned forward, straining his eyes in the darkness. There, against Murtagh's tanned and muscled skin, was a knotted white scar that stretched from his right shoulder to his left hip.
"See that?" demanded Murtagh bitterly. He talked quickly now, as if relieved to have his secret finally reveal. "I was only three when I got it. During one of his many drunken rages, Morzan threw his sword at me as I ran by. My back was laid open by the very sword you now carry – the only thing I expected to receive as inheritance, until Brom stole it from my father's corpse. I was lucky, I suppose – there was a healer nearby who kept me from dying. You must understand, I don't love the Empire or the king. I have no allegiance to them, nor do I mean you harm!" His pleas were almost frantic.
"Then your father," Eragon said in a faltering voice, "was killed by…"
"Yes, Brom," said Murtagh. He pulled his tunic back on with a detached air.
A horn rang out from behind them, prompting Eragon to cry, "Come, run with me." Murtagh shook Tornac's reins and forced him into a tired trot, eyes fixed straight ahead.
Saphira stayed by Eragon's side, easily keeping pace alongside the horses with her long legs. I will not leave you with him.
Eragon was glad for her protection. Morzan's son! He said between strides, "You're tale is hard to believe. How do I know you aren't lying?"
"Why would I lie?" replied Murtagh.
"You could be-"
Murtagh interrupted him quickly. "I can't prove anything to you now. Keep your doubts until we reach the Varden. They'll recognize me quickly enough.
Saphira? Eragon asked simply. A branch whipped Eragon's neck, causing a line of blood to appear on his skin. The sound of a booming waterfall echoed in the valley, growing closer by the minute. I want you to watch Murtagh closely when we get to the Varden. He may do something foolish, and I don't want him killed by accident.
I'll do my best, she said as she shouldered her way between two trees, scraping off slabs of bark. The horn sounded behind them again. Eragon glanced over behind Snowfire, expecting to see Urgals rushing out form the darkness. The sound of the waterfall throbbed dully ahead of them, drowning out the sounds of the night.
The forest ended, Murtagh and Eragon pulled the horses to a stop. They were on a pebbled beach directly to the left of the mouth of the Beartooth River. The deep lake Kóstha-mérna filled the valley, blocking their way. The water gleamed with flickering starlight. The mountain walls restricted passage around Kóstha-mérna to a thin strip of shore on either side of the lake, both no more than a few steps wide. At the lake's far end, a broad sheet of water tumbled down a black cliff into boiling mounds of froth.
"Do we go to the falls?" asked Murtagh tightly, he dismounted from Tornac.
"Yes," dismounting from Snowfire, Eragon took the lead and picked his way along the lake's left side. The pebbles underfoot were damp and slime covered. There was barely enough room for Saphira between the sheer valley wall and the lake; she had to walk with two feet in the water.
They were halfway to the waterfall when Murtagh warned, "Urgals!"
Eragon whirled around, rocks spraying from under his heal. By the shore of Kóstha-mérna, where they had been only minutes before, hulking figures streamed out from the forest. The Urgals massed before the lake. One of them gestured at Saphira; guttural words drifted over the water. Immediately the horde split and started around both sides of the lake, leaving Eragon and Murtagh without an escape route. The narrow shore forced the bulky Kull to march single file.
"Run!" barked Murtagh, drawing his sword and slapping the horses on their flanks.
Eragon tore his gaze from the impending Urgals and withdrew Zar'roc from its sheath. Murtagh did the same, unsheathing his hand-and-half sword. The Kull continued around Kóstha-mérna; archers on the shore were already taking aim at them. Eragon concentrated on going faster, but a rock gave under his boot and he pitched forward. Murtagh's strong arm kept him on his feet, and clasping each other's forearms, they urged the horses forward with shouts.
They were almost at the waterfall. The noise was overwhelming, like an avalanche. A white wall of water gushed down from the cliff, pounding the rocks below with fury that sent mist spraying through the air to run down their faces. Four yards from the thunderous curtain, the beach widened, giving them room to maneuver.
The Urgals were just a few hundred feet away before Saphira suddenly shouted to Eragon. Pull Arya off of me, now!
Eragon did was he was told and quickly unstrapped the elf from Saphira's saddle. She suddenly took off without warning and headed straight towards the hulking lines of the Urgals.
"No!" cried Eragon, shouting with his mind, Come back! But she continued, headless to his pleas. Saphire dived at the Urgals, bellowing fiercely. They tried to scatter but were trapped against the mountainside. She caught an Urgal between her talons and carried the screaming creature aloft, tearing at him with her fangs. The silent body crashed into the lake a moment later, an arm and a leg missing.
Saphira roared as an Urgal spear grazed her haunch, then retreated into the lake, diving underwater. With her withdrawal the Kull rushed forward with long strides. "What do we do now?" Murtagh demanded coldly.
"I don't know. Let me think!" cried Eragon, searching Arya's memories for her final instructions. He scanned the ground until he found a rock the size of an apple, grabbed it, then pounded on the cliff next to the falls, shouting, "Aì varden abr du Shur'tugalar gata vanta!"
Nothing happened.
He tried again, shouting louder than before, but only succeeded in bursing his hand. He turned in despair to Murtagh. "We're trap-" His words were cut off as Saphira leapt out of the lake, dousing them with icy water. She landed on the beach and crouched ready to fight.
Eragon sat Arya alongside the mist covered cliff-face. He turned and stood alongside Saphira, his grip tightening around Zar'roc. Murtagh entered into a low-guard position, preparing for the oncoming clash. The lead Urgal charged the trio with a heavy spear raised. Up close a Kull was as thick as a tree trunk and as tall as a small giant.
Murtagh drew back his arm and threw his sword with incredible speed. The long weapon revolved once, then struck the Kull point first in the chest with a dull crunch. The huge Urgal toppled to the ground with a strangled gurgle. Before another Kull could attack, Murtagh dashed forward and yanked his sword out of the body, and charged into the right file of Urgals.
The Urgals that had split to the left side of the shore were now racing towards them, charging through the water. Eragon raised his palm, shouting, "Jierda theirra kalfis!" Sharp cracks resounded off the cliff. Twenty of the charging Urgals fell into Kóstha-mérna, howling and clutching their legs where shards of bone protruded. Without breaking stride, the rest of the Urgals advanced over their fallen companions. Eragon struggled against his weariness, putting a hand on Saphira's side for support.
A flight of arrows, impossible to see in the darkness, brushed past them and clattered against the cliff. Eragon and Murtagh ducked, covering their heads. With a small howl, Saphira jumped over them so that her armored sides shielded them and the horses. A chorus of clinks sounded as a second volley of arrows bounced off her scales.
"What now?!" shouted Murtagh. There was no opening in the cliff. "We can't stay here!"
Eragon heard Saphira snarl as an arrow caught the edge of her wing, tearing the thin membrane. He looked around wildly, trying to understand why Arya's instructions had not worked. "I don't know! This is where we're supposed to be!"
Racing from around Saphira's cover, Murtagh managed to block a strike from one of the hulking Kull. Kicking the Urgal in the knee, the sound of bone cracking erupted and the howls of the creature split the night. Taking advantage of the opening he created, Murtagh smashed the pommel of his sword into the Urgal's skull, disorientating it then slashing its throat. A series of gurgling noise was produced as the Kull gasped for air and fell to the ground, suffocating on its own blood.
Saphira lurched forward with her talons, slicing three Urgals in half as they came in but feet away from her. Smoke began to rise from her nostrils
Turning around towards the cliff, Eragon grabbed the apple size rock from earlier and smashed as hard as he could against the wall. "Aì varden abr du Shur'tugalar gata vanta!" Nothing happened, once again. "Aì varden abr du Shur'tugalar gata vanta! . . . Aì varden abr du Shur'tugalar gata vanta!"
Seconds passed, and again nothing appeared to happen. Eragon's voice nearly cracked at the strain, trying to reach the hidden members of the Varden. Fear quickly began to take hold of him. He turned around to see Murtagh being flung several feet backwards from parrying a Kull, carrying a massive battle-axe. The young swordsman gasped as the air escaped his lungs.
The charger rushed towards the downed Murtagh, bringing its battle-axe up to smash into his body. Out of desperation, Eragon raised his arm, the gedwëy ignasia on his hand glowing. He cried out in the ancient language, "Brisingr!"
The charging Urgal suddenly exploded as blue flame burst forth from every pore of its body. A charred corpse fell into the water, pouring blood into the clear lake.
Saphira leapt forward, whipping her tail around, knocking several Kull several feet away, and their bodies to broken to return into the fight. The sound of whizzing arrows forced Eragon and Murtagh to cover themselves as the flying projectiles landed randomly in the dark. The sound of arrows hitting the rock wall appeared by them.
Pain suddenly gripped Eragon's leg as an arrow shaft embedded itself into his flesh. He cried out in agony and fell to the shore, grasping at the wounded area. A horrific roar echoed along the mountainside as Saphira rushed the Urgal column – hell-bent on killing every last Kull for hurting her rider.
Murtagh struggled to regain his footing and made his way to Eragon. "Hold still," he commanded the young Dragon Rider. Eragon winced as Murtagh's hand groped for the arrow shaft. The arrow had managed to go right through the leg, the arrowhead protruded on the other side. "Bite hard!"
Eragon braced himself, clenching his teeth together. The sound of snapping wood was produced as Murtagh broke the shaft, pulling the feathered end free. Eragon winced and groaned in pain as his friend pulled the arrowhead free.
"We're going to die here, Rider!" exclaimed Murtagh, helping Eragon to his feet. He was unable to put all his weight on his left leg and was forced to support himself on Murtagh. They back themselves up to the cliff, standing directly in front of the unconscious Arya.
Saphira rushed back to her partner's side, her wings pierced and blood seeping from the wounds. A long gash on her right front foreleg caused her to limp, hindering her ability to fight. The group stood together, wounded and trapped against what seemed to be endless numbers of Kull.
The columns of Urgals made their way ever closer to them, spears drawn forward as they advanced. Their howls and war cries echoing off the sides of the mountains. Eragon could not help but let the fear and despair fill his entire being. He had done everything that the elf had instructed him to do and yet the Varden did not show themselves. They were abandoned to this accursed fate: to die by the hands of the Kull.
The memories of his life seemed to flash before his very eyes. From his early life in Carvahall, finding Saphira's egg, his uncle's death, traveling with Brom and Karn, their fight against the Raz'ac and his capture at Gil'ead. There was nothing left for him regret, nothing to ponder. The only thing left was for him to wait until death came for him. Brom…Saphira…Karn…Murtagh…Arya… I'm sorry. I failed you all.
Unexpectedly, a foreign presence pressed against his mind. Eragon recoiled away, in alarm, from the alien mind and quickly formed his mental barriers. The presence did not send any mental attacks but just surrounded him. Tendrils of peace and comfort covered Eragon's mind like a blanket, dulling his anxieties. Perplexed Eragon focused on the presence, it possessed a sense of familiarity to it. Somewhere he had felt it before; the presence grew stronger as if it was coming closer over a great distance. He could sense that it was vast and powerful. A thought occurred to him, perhaps it was a member of the Varden. He lowered his barriers, taking a risk, and shouted out through the mental link, Please help! I'm a Dragon Rider with the elf Arya. We are surrounded by Urgals, please help!
The sound of grinding stone from across the lake, on the opposite side of the waterfall, pierced the night. Two large twelve foot, hinge-less, stone doors opened from the mountainside. The Urgals quickly lost focus and turned their gaze towards the opened portal into the mountain.
The presence, pressing against Eragon's mind, grew closer. The mental touch was too familiar to him. It took him a moment to recognize the entity, but it left him in disbelief. …Impossible… Saphira, Murtagh, and Eragon gazed as two lone figures appeared from the portal, the darkness preventing them from adequately seeing their features. From what Eragon could see though, they were both garbed in cloaks, hoods obscuring their faces, and one of the individuals was shorter than the other.
However, the Urgals spared them no expense and quickly charged the two newcomers. As the lead Kull brought his massive wooden club to bash their skulls in, the shorter one of the two outstretched their arm. Six of the Kull were suddenly sent flying twenty feet back into the waters of lake Kóstha-mérna.
Rushing forward, the two individuals moved at a speed faster than Eragon could imagine and jumped over the giant expanse of water, landing right in front of Saphira. They stood before the second line of Urgals that were baring down on Eragon and his companions. The taller of the two figures flipped his cloak back, revealing two identical foot long metal cylinders. The cylinders flew out from their holsters and landed in each individuals' hand. Three foot yellow beams of light flared out, producing a low hum and bathing the area in yellow light.
The two fighters ran forward into the Urgal lines, cutting down each Kull as if they were nothing. The blades' resonance rose and fell in pitch as it cut through the bodies of the menacing creatures. The smell of burning flesh filled Eragon's nose, causing him to feel nauseous.
The Kull attempted to push back, brandishing their crude weapons, and tried to land a hit on the newcomers. Unfortunately, the weapons when touched by the beams of light melted upon contact; swords, axes, clubs, and spears were no longer of any use.
The number of Urgal bodies tallied as the two warriors danced across the shores of Kóstha-mérna. Dismembered limbs and bodies fell into the water, littering the ground. The Kull were losing ground, being pushed back.
The sound of howling voices echoed from the other side of the lake, and suddenly, armored men and dwarves rushed out from the side of the mountain, cutting down the Kull that stood in opposition of them. Rank upon rank of Urgals fell as arrows embedded themselves into their bodies. The hail of arrows appeared from crevasses that pockmarked the cliff. Scores of Urgals already floated belly up in the water, riddled with shafts.
The sound of a war horn echoed over the shouts of fighting soldiers and soon the Kull began to turn tail and head towards the forest. Some never would reach the dense expanse of trees – falling to the ground with arrow shafts protruding from their backs or their bodies being sliced in half by the yellow beams of light. Eragon stood in doubt, he could have sworn he was about to meet his death but his life was saved. All the lives of his companions were saved.
Murtagh led Eragon to Saphira's side and placed him there for support while Arya was lifted up into Saphira's saddle. We're alive! Eragon proclaimed.
Yes, we're safe little one, replied Saphira. Her body shook from pain but Eragon could sense her joy as well. Not only for being rescued, but because of who had saved them.
The two cloaked figures walked across the bloody shores up towards them, and lowered their hoods. Standing before him were two individuals whom he had known well and believed would never meet again.
Pushing himself off of Saphira's side, he limped to the larger of the two and came to stare into his two bright sapphire eyes. Overwhelmed with shock and delight, Eragon could not help but stare until he launched out his arms, grabbing hold of the person, pulling them into a mighty embrace. "I thought you were dead!" exclaimed Eragon.
"It will require a lot more than a lonely shade to kill me," repled Karn. The two released their grip from each other and the two had large smiles spread across their faces.
The ground vibrated as Saphira and Murtagh came alongside Eragon. Murtagh's face was filled with shock but he soon stretched out his hand and Karn accepted it. Saphira's tail twitched excitingly and she bent her head down so her large sapphire eyes were level with Karn's. It is good to see you alive and well, Karn. We've missed you and worried for your safety.
Karn stretched out his arm and scratched the underside of her jaw, "I appreciate that, Saphira. I'm fine and all is well."
"How did you find us?" inquired Eragon. The excitement of learning that his dear friend since Yuzac, was still alive left him with questions.
"That would be my doing," piped up the woman standing next to Karn.
"Angela?" Eragon said in surprise. "What are you doing here? I thought you were still in Teirm."
Angela produced a slight chuckle and stuck a finger out towards him, "There has been quite an amount of interesting events that have occurred since we last met, my dear boy."
"But how-" Eragon was interrupted by a gruff voice behind Karn and Angela, "Akh Gûnteraz dorzada! What were you thinking? The door was on the other side of the falls!"
Both Karn and Angela parted and between them stood a diminutive man, no taller than their elbows. The dwarf was busy wringing water out of his long braided beard. His chest was stocky, and he wore a chain-mail jacket cut off at the shoulders to reveal muscular arms. A war axe hung from a wide leather belt strapped around his waist. An iron-bound oxhide cap, bearing the symbol of a hammer surrounded by twelve stars, sat firmly on his head. Even with the cap, he barely topped four feet. He looked longingly at the fighting and said, "Barzûl, but I wish I could join them! … Bah come along now." The dwarf had the group traverse the entire length of Kóstha-mérna before standing on the opposite shore where the large stone doors stood. The doors revealed a broad tunnel nearly thirty feet tall that burrowed its way into the mysterious depths of the mountain. A line of flameless lamps filled the passageway with a pale sapphire light that spilled onto the lake.
The group stood before the tunnel, surrounded by a grim mixture of men and dwarves. Suddenly, at Murtagh's elbow was a bald, beardless man dressed in purple and gold robes. He was taller than all the other humans – and he was holding a dagger to Murtagh's throat.
Eragon tried to quickly draw forth his power, but the robed man said in a sharp, dangerous voice, "Stop! Should you ever as try to free your friend, I'll kill him here."
Karn attempted to go to Murtagh's aid but the man snarled and pressed the dagger harder against Murtagh's throat. "None of that! If you say or do anything I don't tell you to, he will die. Now, everyone inside." He backed into the tunnel, pulling Murtagh with him and keeping his eyes trained on Eragon, Karn and Angela – not to mention Saphira.
Saphira, what should I do? Eragon asked quickly as the men and dwarves followed Murtagh's captor, leading the Snowfire and Tornac along with them.
Go with them, she counseled, and hope that we live. She entered the tunnel herself, eliciting nervous glances from those around her. Reluctantly, Eragon followed her, aware that the warriors' eyes were fixated upon him. The dwarf from earlier walked alongside him with his hand on the haft of his war axe.
Utterly exhausted, Eragon staggered, on his good leg, into the mountain. The stone doors swung shut behind them with only a whisper of sound. He looked back and saw a seamless wall where the opening had been. They were trapped inside. But were they any safer?