Answers to reviews:
OechsnerC: I'll take your word for it.
It was three days since the Varden and dwarves had fought the Urgals for possession of Tronjheim, the mile-high, conical city nestled in the center of Farthen Dûr, but the battlefield was still strewn with carnage. The sheer number of bodies had stymied their attempts to bury the dead. In the distance, a mountainous fire glowed sullenly by Farthen Dûr's wall where the Urgals were being burned. No burial or honored resting place for them.
Since waking to find his wound healed by Angela, Eragon had tried three times to assist in the recovery effort. On each occasion he had been racked by terrible pains that seemed to explode from his spine. The healers gave him various potions to drink. Arya and Angela said that he was perfectly sound. Nevertheless, he hurt. Nor could Saphira or George help, only share his pain as it rebounded across their mental link.
As if sensing his dark mood, George placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "You alright, Shadeslayer?" Despite his dark mood, a smile appeared on Eragon's face at the nickname. Three days since he had killed Durza; three days since people began calling him Shadeslayer; three days since the remnants of the sorcerer's consciousness had ravaged his mind and he had been saved by the mysterious Togira Ikonoka, the Cripple Who Is Whole. He had told no one about that vision but Saphira and George. Fighting Durza and the dark spirits that controlled him had transformed Eragon; although for better or for worse he was still unsure. He felt fragile, as if a sudden shock would shatter his reconstructed body and consciousness.
George and Saphira agreed that they must go to the Elves to find this person.
"Yeah, tha ks George." Eragon thanked his friend, who patted him on the shoulder. They and Saphira slowly made a circuit through the trampled plain. They stopped at its edge when they noticed Jörmundur—Ajihad's second in command in the Varden—hurrying toward them from Tronjheim. When he came near, Jörmundur bowed, a gesture they knew he would never have made just days before.
"I'm glad I found you both in time." He clutched a parchment note in one hand. "Ajihad is returning, and he wants you both to be there when he arrives. The others are already waiting for him by Tronjheim's west gate. We'll have to hurry to get there in time."
Ajihad had been gone most of the three days, hunting down Urgals who had managed to escape into the dwarf tunnels that honeycombed the stone beneath the Beor Mountains. The one time Eragon had seen him between expeditions, Ajihad was in a rage over discovering that his daughter, Nasuada, had disobeyed his orders to leave with the other women and children before the battle. Instead, she had secretly fought among the Varden's archers.
Murtagh and the Twins had accompanied Ajihad: the Twins because it was dangerous work and the Varden's leader needed the protection of their magical skills, and Murtagh because he was eager to continue proving that he bore the Varden no ill will. It surprised Eragon how much people's attitudes toward Murtagh had changed, considering that Murtagh's father was the Dragon Rider Morzan, who had betrayed the Riders to Galbatorix. Even though Murtagh despised his father and was loyal to Eragon, the Varden had not trusted him. But now, no one was willing to waste energy on a petty hate when so much work remained. Eragon and George missed talking with their friend and looked forward to discussing all that had happened, once he returned.
The two young men and Saphira followed Jörmundur towards the gate, where they saw a small group became visible in the pool of lantern light before the timber gate. Among them were Orik—the dwarf shifting impatiently on his stout legs—and Arya. The white bandage around her upper arm gleamed in the darkness, reflecting a faint highlight onto the bottom of her hair. Eragon felt a strange thrill, as he always did when he saw the elf. He ignored the mental snorts from his dragon and George. She looked at them, green eyes flashing, then continued watching for Ajihad.
Orik nodded at George with a warm smile that George returned. Since fighting side by side, Orik had grown quite fond of the human from another world, often spending time in conversation with him and talking about anything.
"Where will Ajihad come from?" asked Eragon as he stood next to Orik.
Orik pointed at a cluster of lanterns staked around a large tunnel opening a couple of miles away. "He should be here soon."
George and Eragon waited patiently with the others, answering comments directed at them but preferring to speak with Saphira in the peace of their minds. The quiet that filled Farthen Dûr suited him.
Half an hour passed before motion flickered in the distant tunnel. A group of ten men climbed out onto the ground, then turned and helped up as many dwarves. One of the men—they assumed it was Ajihad—raised a hand, and the warriors assembled behind him in two straight lines. At a signal, the formation marched proudly toward Tronjheim.
Before they went more than five yards, the tunnel behind them swarmed with a flurry of activity as more figures jumped out. Eragon squinted, unable to see clearly from so far away.
Those are Urgals! exclaimed Saphira, her body tensing like a drawn bowstring.
Neither George or Eragon questioned her. "Urgals!" They shouted. Eragon got onto Saphira's back. No one had expected an attack now that the Urgal army had been driven away.
Eragon's wound twinged as Saphira lifted her azure wings, then drove them down and jumped forward, gaining speed and altitude each second. Below them, George and Arya ran toward the tunnel, nearly keeping apace with Saphira. Orik trailed behind with several men, while Jörmundur sprinted back toward the barracks.
Eragon was forced to watch helplessly as the Urgals fell on the rear of Ajihad's warriors; he could not work magic over such a distance. The monsters had the advantage of surprise and quickly cut down four men, forcing the rest of the warriors, men and dwarves alike, to cluster around Ajihad in an attempt to protect him. Swords and axes clashed as the groups pressed together. Light flashed from one of the Twins, and an Urgal fell, clutching the stump of his severed arm.
For a minute, it seemed the defenders would be able to resist the Urgals, but then a swirl of motion disturbed the air, like a faint band of mist wrapping itself around the combatants. When it cleared, only four warriors were standing: Ajihad, the Twins, and Murtagh. The Urgals converged on them, blocking Eragon's view as he stared with rising horror and fear.
No! No! No!
Before Saphira could reach the fight, the knot of Urgals streamed back to the tunnel and scrambled underground, leaving only prone forms behind.
The moment Saphira touched down, Eragon vaulted off, then faltered, overcome by grief and anger. I can't do this. It reminded him too much of when he had returned to the farm to find his uncle Garrow dying. Fighting back his dread with every step, he began to search for survivors.
The site was eerily similar to the battlefield he had inspected earlier, except that here the blood was fresh.
In the center of the massacre lay Ajihad, his breastplate rent with numerous gashes, surrounded by five Urgals he had slain. His breath still came in ragged gasps. Eragon knelt by him and lowered his face so his tears would not land on the leader's ruined chest. No one could heal such wounds. Running up to them, Arya and George paused and stopped, their faces transformed with sorrow when they saw that Ajihad could not be saved.
"Eragon." The name slipped from Ajihad's lips—no more than a whisper.
"Yes, I am here."
"Listen to me, Eragon... I have one last command for you." Eragon leaned closer to catch the dying man's words. "You must promise me something: promise that you... won't let the Varden fall into chaos. They are the only hope for resisting the Empire... They must be kept strong. You must promise me."
"I promise."
"Then peace be with you, Eragon Shadeslayer..." With his last breath, Ajihad closed his eyes, setting his noble face in repose, and died.
Eragon bowed his head. He had trouble breathing past the lump in his throat, which was so hard it hurt. Nearby, George muttered a swear to himself as he sheathed Darkstride across his back, never going one place without it.
Arya blessed Ajihad in a ripple of the ancient language, then said in her musical voice, "Alas, his death will cause much strife. He is right, you must do all you can to avert a struggle for power. I will assist where possible."
Unwilling to speak, Eragon gazed at the rest of the bodies. He would have given anything to be elsewhere. Saphira nosed one of the Urgals and said, This should not have happened. It is an evil doing, and all the worse for coming when we should be safe and victorious. She examined another body, then swung her head around. Where are the Twins and Murtagh? They're not among the dead.
Eragon scanned the corpses. You're right! Elation surged within him as he hurried to the tunnel's mouth. There pools of thickening blood filled the hollows in the worn marble steps like a series of black mirrors, glossy and oval, as if several torn bodies had been dragged down them. The Urgals must have taken them! But why? They don't keep prisoners or hostages. Despair instantly doesn't matter. We can't pursue them without reinforcements; you wouldn't even fit through the opening.
They may still be alive. Would you abandon them?
What do you expect me to do? The dwarf tunnels are an endless maze! I would only get lost. And I couldn't catch Urgals on foot, though Arya might be able to.
Then ask her to.
Arya! Eragon hesitated, torn between his desire for action and his loathing to put her in danger. Still, if any one person in the Varden could handle the Urgals, it was she. With a groan, he explained what they had found to both Arya and George.
Arya's slanted eyebrows met in a frown. "It makes no sense."
"Will you pursue them?"
She stared at him for a heavy moment. "Wiol ono." For you. Then she bounded forward, sword flashing in her hand as she dove into the earth's belly.
Orik soon arrived and when he saw Ajihad, he stamped his feet and swore in Dwarvish, swinging his ax into the body of an Urgal. The men only stood in shock. Jörmundur soon arrived with twelve ranks of six warriors each. He motioned for them to wait outside the radius of bodies while he proceeded onward alone. He bent and touched Ajihad on the shoulder, saying a few words.
As one, the warriors knelt, baring their heads in homage to Ajihad. Then they stood and reverently lifted him on their shields so he lay between their shoulders. Already many of the Varden wept, tears flowing into beards, yet they did not disgrace their duty and allow Ajihad to fall. With solemn steps, they marched back to Tronjheim, Saphira, George, and Eragon in the middle of the procession.
Anguish gripped Eragon as he woke up the next morning, remembering the events of last night. Tears filled his eyes, spilling over, and he caught one on his hand. They had heard nothing from Arya until late that evening, when she emerged from the tunnel, weary and footsore. Despite her best efforts—and all her magic—the Urgals had escaped her. She did tell them that she found one of the Twins' purple robes, torn and bloodied, and Murtagh's tunic and both his leather gauntlets.
Eragon looked around the room, which was suffused with the dim glow of a shuttered lantern. He sat and watched Saphira sleep. Her muscled sides expanded and contracted as the great bellows of her lungs forced air through her scaled against her chest, a paw keeping him there, was the peacefully sleeping form of George. Despite his anguish and mood, Eragon smiled.
Saphira's breathing quickened, and she opened her eyes, yawning expansively. Good morning, little one.
Is it? He looked down and leaned on his hands, compressing the mattress. It's terrible... Murtagh and Ajihad... Why didn't sentries in the tunnels warn us of the Urgals? They shouldn't have been able to trail Ajihad's group without being noticed... Arya was right, it doesn't make sense.
We may never know the truth, said Saphira gently. For now we must be grateful for what we have left: Each other. She sent Eragon wave of warm thoughts and he smiled slightly, thanking her. Saphira then turned to look down at her sleeping mate and began to slowly lick his cheek and face until he began stirring, mumbling under his breath before his eyes blinked open and met with hers. He smiled and pecked her maw but she made the kiss last a little longer.
Morning love. He greeted her and sat up once she removed her paw from his chest and his stretched his arms as he stood up, the stiffness in his body popping. He then looked at Eragon as he got on his black trench coat then sheathed Darkstride across his back. "What's the plan today, Eragon?"
Eragon got to his feet. "We must discover what the Varden plans to do in the wake of Ajihad's death. A new leader could be chosen within hours...and we need to be there."
"Right, but first breakfast."
Eragon nodded and strapped on Zar'roc and his bow, then bent and lifted Snowfire's saddle. A line of pain sheared through his torso, driving him to the floor, where he writhed, scrabbling at his back. It felt like he was being sawed in half. Saphira growled as the ripping sensation reached her and George gritted his teeth as the pain reached him too. They tried to soothe him with their own minds but was unable to alleviate his suffering.
It took minutes before the fit subsided and the last throb faded away, leaving Eragon gasping. Sweat drenched his face, making his hair stick and his eyes sting. He reached back and gingerly fingered the top of his scar. It was hot and inflamed and sensitive to touch. George gently helped him to his feet while Saphira lowered her nose and touched him on the arm. Oh, little one...
It was worse this time, he said, leaning against George for support. He wiped off the sweat with a rag, then he tentatively stepped toward the door..
Are you strong enough to go? George asked.
We have to. Saphira and I have an obligation as dragon and Rider to make a public choice regarding the next head of the Varden, and perhaps even influence the selection. Eragon said before giving him a smile. And you know we would never do anything without you there now. Your part of this link and bond with us, you have a right to be there as Saphira's mate after all.
True. George nodded.
Very well. Saphira growled. But Durza should suffer a thousand years of torture for what he did to you.
Eragon laid a hand on her side. As long as I have you two...I'll be okay.
Together, the trio made their way through Tronjheim, toward the nearest kitchen. In the corridors and hallways, people stopped and bowed to them, murmuring "Bladewolf" or "Shadeslayer." Even dwarves made the motions, though not as often. They reached the kitchens and went to a table in a corner to eat, but neither George or Eragon found they really had much of an appetite. They sat there in silence, talking with Saphira about the choice of the Varden's next leader. Then Saphira told them someone was coming.
The two opened their eyes and looked to see a young boy standing there, looking at Saphira as if afraid she will eat him. He shakily told George and Eragon that they had been summoned before the Council of Elders. Sighing to themselves mentally, the two got up and followed the boy with Saphira following behind them. They made it to a large circular room.
Seated there were Jörmundur and two other men, one tall and one broad; a woman with pinched lips, close-set eyes, and elaborately painted cheeks; and a second woman with an immense pile of gray hair above a matronly face, belied by a dagger hilt peeking out of the vast hills of her bodice.
Jörmundur introduced them to the Council of Elders, then gestured for them to sit at the table. Saphira hunkered down behind them, her warm breath hitting the back of their heads and necks. The Council told them they had discussed at length on the subject of the Varden's new leadership and have come to an agreement on who they wanted as their new leader.
Both boys were slightly stunned to find out it was Nasuada. Eragon was more stunned while George raised an eyebrow in surprise. The two spoke with each other mentally, arguing over the pros and cons of this choice with George telling Eragon this could be some ploy for the Council to control Nasuada and lead the Varden through her, having had experience himself with a bunch of power hungry politicians back on Earth.
Saphira agreed with her mate that the Council wanted a puppet to control.
The Council then revealed both boys were expected to swear their fealty to the Varden to further cement Nasuada's ascension. George's eyes narrowed a little at that reveal, he swore servitude to no one. He served no one, he was only fighting alongside the Varden because of Saphira and Eragon. Plus he was working with the Varden, not for them.
George argued with Eragon and Saphira over this, telling them he was his own boss and that's enough. He told them he was helping topple an Empire but he was not swearing loyalty to anyone, he was not that kind of person. Eragon tried to argue more but Saphira told her Rider to let it go, that he has his right of choice to decide how his life goes. She mentioned that Dragonians swore fealty to no one.
The Council then called in Nasuada after Eragon agreed to comply. The Council seemed to think his fealty was more important than George's, that Eragon's fealty to Nasuada will ensure George's loyalty, especially since Saphira will not turn against her Rider and George will not turn against his mate for anything.
That was the sense George was getting.
When Nasuada entered, her chin was held high and eyes steady. Her embroidered gown was the deepest shade of black, deeper even than her skin, broken only by a slash of royal purple that stretched from shoulder to hip. Behind her was Arya, her stride as lithe and smooth as a cat's, and an openly awestruck Jarsha.
The boy was dismissed, then Jörmundur helped Nasuada into a seat. Eragon hastened to do the same for Arya, but she ignored the proffered chair and stood at a distance from the table. Privately, George connected his mind with Arya's and let her in on what happened. Since helping her and bringing her here, Arya allowed George to mentally speak with her should the need ever arise when they couldn't speak aloud.
Mentally Arya thanked him but out loud she showed no reaction then told him to inform Eragon that she wished to speak to them alone after this. George mentally nodded and told Eragon, Saphira having already been informed.
After accepting to be the leader, Nasuada asked to be left in peace. As Arya and the Council left, Nasuada spoke with Eragon and George in private, she agreed to the latter not swearing fealty to anyone, that his bond with Eragon and Saphira will keep him on the Varden's side...unless the Varden dares try to harm either of them out of fear of their power. He told Nasuada that should anyone in the Varden try this...Galbatroix and the Empire will be the least of their worries.
Nasuada spoke with Eragon for a while and they agreed for Eragon to swear fealty to her rather than the Varden.
After this, they left the room and George left the two to go train the recruits while Eragon spoke with Arya. Later, after Eragon and Saphira spoke with the dwarf king, a celebration was held by the Dwarves due to Saphira agreeing to repair the broken star sapphire.
George arrived at the celebration, raising an eyebrow at seeing a drunk Saphira and walked over to lean against the wall close to her but she spotted him and shoved her snout into his chest, making him grunt and hug her before he noticed how she seemed to eye his body up and down.
Do you love me? She asked.
Of course I do, I wouldn't have gone as far we have if I didn't. George said as he struggled to contain his much dragon instincts that were rising as she sent the sign of wanting to mate at him just by looking at him with that gaze, but he knew she was drunk and he would never take advantage of a female that was too drunk to know what she was doing.
Then why won't you-
Saphira. George cut her off with a small glare. I know what you are wanting and I would be happy to spend such time with you alone for that, but I will not do that while you are drunk, I refuse to take advantage.
It's not such if I allow it! Saphira growled, glaring at him.
I don't care, I will not allow it!
Saphira snarled at him and spat. You are not my mate. She said with venom in her tone before turning away and walking away from him, leaving him there.
He sighed and crossed his arms, not feeling hurt from her words because he knew she didn't mean them. She only said them due to her drunken state.
Many hours passed before the noise and excitement began to calm. When it did, Orik once more climbed onto the table. He stood there, legs spread wide for balance, tankard in hand, iron-bound cap awry, and cried, "Hear, hear! At last we have celebrated as is proper. The Urgals are gone, the Shade is dead, and we have won!" The dwarves all pounded their tables in approval. It was a good speech—short and to the point. But Orik was not finished. "To Eragon and Saphira!" he roared, lifting the tankard. This too was well received.
Eragon stood and bowed, which brought more cheers. Beside him, Saphira reared and swung a foreleg across her chest, attempting to duplicate his move. She tottered, and the dwarves, realizing their danger, scrambled away from her. They were barely in time. With a loud whoosh, Saphira fell backward, landing flat on a banquet table.
George sighed and rubbed his forehead. Oy vey...
Both Eragon and Saphira weren't quite sure who's head was pounding the most as they began to wake up, when they blinked their eyes open they were met by George ho had his arms crossed and a look of small amusement on his face with his eyebrows raised.
"First time drunk can be a real killer. Trust me, I know." He said with a shake of his head. "Ajihad's funeral will be beginning soon, make yourself presentable, Eragon." He gestured to a pile of clothes on a chair. "Orik left those here for you."
As Eragon got dressed, George walked over to Saphira who stiffly rolled onto her belly, avoiding his gaze. Wordlessly he pushed a half barrel of water to her. Here, for the headache. he said, his voice cool and not filled with much emotion.
Thank you. She said quietly and drank slowly, the memories of what she said to him last night coming to mind and filling her with guilt that she tried to force her mate into mating with her. She was embarrassed and disgusted at herself with how she acted last night. She heard the sounds of something changing before she felt the familiar body of her mate's dragon form settle beside her, his wing resting over her back and he nuzzled her cheek.
What would I do without you, you lovable pile of hormones? He asked her softly.
Why are you not angry at me? She asked, not meeting his eyes.
George used his tail to take hold of her jaw and gently turn her head to face his, then pressed his forehead against hers, staring into her eyes. Saphira, you were drunk I know you would never mean those words. Nothing can ever make me hate you, remember that.
...I love you.She whispered,a tearful choke nearly leaving her at just how much love he showed her in their link, that he could never hate her no matter what because of how much he loved her. the two nuzzled one another and shared a kiss.
I'll stay at your side as a dragon for a while until I'm needed as a human. He promised her and she nodded before finishing up her water and stood up with him helping her up before they followed Eragon but George's wing never left it's position over Saphira's back.
I knew I made the right decision choosing you. Saphira whispered to him. You are mine forever.
And you are mine for eternity. He chuckled before licking her cheek and she hummed and just cuddled up against him as they walked behind Eragon.
Ajihad's funeral passed, but the day still came with complications such as a sorceress trying to seduce Eragon only for George and Saphira to burst in and send her away with glares for her trying to control Eragon. This led to an argument between Eragon and the dragons ebfore he spent the night away from them, leaving the two dragons to themselves and they cuddled with each other, reeling from their argument with Eragon.
The next day they agreed to never speak about it and George made up on his promise by spending as much time as he could with Saphira as his dragon self.
I hope you all loved this chapter as we nearly get the first adventure of the second book underway and that's the adventure to the elves.