Chapter 59 – Fire Red Like Blood

Traveling with Saphira so close to their hometown felt surreal to Eragon. He knew the Palancar Valley like the back of his hand, however, looking at it from the skies was still an unusual experience. Of course, he had flown there before, but this time, he had a new appreciation.

The flight over the bay of Fundor worked miracles in his head. His uncertainties were washed away as he looked at the waters below. He had a mission, he should be sure of his motives, not afraid of standing up for the people he swore to protect. His mind should be his biggest ally, so he would work on that. Eragon didn't need to close his eyes to enter a meditative state, contemplating the waters was enough. Soon, he felt his troubling thoughts calm down. It was like he had put on a new skin, one that belonged to a more enlightened man. Glaedr acknowledged his efforts and found comfort in his mental garden.

No words were spoken, and Eragon remembered the times when he and Saphira would spend many hours in each other's company without bothering to speak while training the new Riders. It felt good, like a heavy weight being lifted from his shoulders.

With such a new disposition, they arrived at Carvahall. Eragon had to check the surroundings to make sure he was in the same town he once left. Well, it was not the same. It was at least five times bigger. And Roran's fortress! For the gods, it was the most unexpected thing he had ever imagined seeing in Carvahall. It was a monster of a building, perched on a hillside.

Around it, Eragon watched as a few citizens prepared for the cold night, gathering logs for the fire. As soon as they saw them approaching, more of them came out to watch. Their surprise to see them after so many years seemed comical, but Eragon refrained his humor.

When they landed by the fortress Roran had raised to stand on high ground, looking over Carvahall from the hill, Eragon had the full idea of his cousin's intelligence and dedication. It was a perfect construction. There, they found the remaining citizens that refused to leave Carvahall. Eragon thought they were risking their lives being there alone when in Ceunon they could have all the protection they needed, but those people, mostly elderly – some had watched him grow up –, claimed they would rather die than leave the place they called home.

Can you imagine if we were like them? Saphira said when that memory passed his mind.

We would've died with Garrow that day.

It seemed like another life when the Ra'zac attacked his family's farm and killed his uncle in search of him and Saphira. So much had happened after that, and now they were back. So were the Ra'zac.

Among the people still living in town after the evacuation, Eragon recognized a few faces, but most of them were strangers, and those were informed of who he was. The reverence in their expressions made him blush slightly, as he had forgotten he was famous in those areas.

A line formed to shake his hand. Many of them expressed their gratitude for ridding the country of the Mad King, but others just wanted to put their eyes on him and Saphira. Some people even brought them flowers, or food, which was overwhelming, for they weren't expecting the pair of Rider and dragon to show up there, and still they showered them with kindness.

Eragon asked to be guided inside, and the residents welcomed him and Saphira into the fortress. It was big enough for Saphira to stand quite comfortably. It was warm there, and Eragon felt his muscles relax after hours of flying in the cold.

Without any further ado, he explained the situation to the group that gathered around him. He pointed out how exposed they were being alone in Carvahall, after refusing to evacuate, since the objective was to gather the people under the protection of the Riders. They protested, stating that the people who went to Ceunon were probably in more danger, for the Riders would be luring to the enemies. Thinking the town was empty, they would never attack Carvahall, being the last residents safe.

Eragon did not have enough arguments to refute that idea, but he felt they were wrong. He left it at that and instructed them to stay as closed off as possible inside the fortress because he would cast more wards and spells to keep them safe. How safe they would be he did not know, so he didn't make any promises.

After he talked to them, he asked Glaedr's help to create the wards, and he put himself to work, surrounding the place with magic, both speechless and traditional, in the Ancient Language.

"I hope it will suffice."

They made their choice, and you made your best. There's nothing more to do now. Glaedr spoke and retreated in his Eldunarí, leaving him alone in his mind.

Eragon and Saphira refused to stay in the fortress and headed to his family's farm for the sake of familiarity.

If Carvahall was a brand-new city, impossible to recognize, the farmhouse looked almost the same as before. Arya had painted it in a fairth to him years before, and even then it warmed his heart. But seeing it up close was something else. Nostalgia hit him with full force, and he was left speechless. Saphira was too.

After she landed in the yard, it took him a minute to move to the ground.

As expected, Sílthrim was in view just before dawn, but somehow Arya was unhappy. She asked Fírnen to get to the ground and gather with the guards, that waited for her instructions. Fírnen was careful not to be seen, so their incursion could be as surprising as possible.

Elva followed Arya to the ground but stopped her on her way to the group. With a hand on her arm, Elva pulled Arya aside.

"What are you doing?" Elva asked.

"What?"

"Arya! What are you doing here?"

"I don't understand, Elva. You know what I'm doing here."

The woman shook her head in annoyance.

"You were requested by the Order, weren't you? So why are you still here?"

Since they had left Ellesméra the day before, Arya had the same question running through her mind. She had a tug of war inside of her, making every step on her decision to go on with her plan almost impossible.

"Sooner we finish this, sooner we'll be on our way to Ceunon."

Carvahall.

"Or Carvahall, it doesn't matter."

Elva shook her head again.

"I know you don't want to be here, don't lie to me. And this will take a while, you and I both know it. You're wasting time."

"But I have to be here. I know it is the right choice."

"Do you?" Elva challenged her with a teasing voice.

I feel you uncertain, Arya. Be honest with me, are you sure we are not breaking the Oath?

I'm sure. My uncertainty comes from another concern.

Which is…?

I told you we are fine, that we will be fine for not breaking the Oath, and that's true. But what if…

What?

Arya stepped away from Elva and walked toward Fírnen to look him in the eyes.

What if we arrive too late? What if Elva is right and capturing and executing Däthedr takes too long?

You think they might be in danger.

I can't be sure, but I can't suppress this feeling. She clung her left hand against her stomach. What if they are in danger, Fírnen?

We will not be fine, not at all if they needed us and we weren't there.

That was exactly what she thought. What was she doing? How would she be able to live with herself if something happened to Eragon and Saphira? How about the others, Avelina, Renir? Forget about guilt, what about love? If he died, then she didn't know how life would be without him. And she did not want to find out.

"We should go," she told Fírnen out loud, then turned to Elva and repeated it to her. "Come on, we should go."

"How about Däthedr?" Elva asked without a drop of concern, already jumping back to the saddle.

"I'll deal with him later."

Her guards would be successful in bringing him to Ellesméra, she was sure of it, and then justice would be made. She only wished to have come to that conclusion earlier.

After a night of troubling waking dreams, Eragon tried to keep himself focused on the mission of finding Bachel. He crawled from under Saphira's wing and stretched his back. They took shelter in the barn, that was big enough to fit Saphira in there.

"We should get going, Saphira."

She didn't respond, simply letting out a big yawn.

Eragon collected the blankets he used for the night and put them in the bag.

"I was thinking," he said as he organized his belongings. "We should start by contacting the urgals. They must be moving their troops to Ceunon by now, as agreed. Even Nasuada expected them to come to us instead of joining her in the south. Don't you think it's strange that they aren't jumping into the fight like they normally do?"

Saphira exited the barn so she could stretch her wings properly. Eragon followed her carrying the saddle and his bag.

Now that you mentioned it, yes, I suppose it is strange.

"So? Should we go find them?"

Sure. They might have valuable information about the Spine or even Bachel.

It was decided. Their mission would start at the most northern part of the Spine, where a very important tribe of urgals were known to inhabit.

The flight there was uneventful. Saphira followed the directions the student Rider Yuzek had given them when he started his studies in the academy. He was a proud member of the northern tribe and confided in them the location of his birthplace, with the promise they would visit it one day. Their visit would bring the urgals much honor, as he claimed. Eragon and Saphira only wished they could've come on a better occasion.

Saphira followed the mountains heading north. They crossed the imaginary line set by the Riders then continued for about an hour before penetrating the mountain range. Careful not the get lost in that sea of mountains, being most of them practically the same, Saphira navigated with Yuzek's instructions in mind, and soon they had the urgal village in sight.

From above, Eragon had a bad feeling about it. It seemed too quiet.

Do you think we missed them?

No, we would've passed by them if they were on the way to Ceunon.

Saphira got around the village once before landing on a foothill, about thirty yards from the closest house.

All the houses were made of stone and wood and were placed very closely together. Some constructions were encrusted in the mountain several feet high with a stairwell leading up to it, and Eragon figured they worked as watchtowers.

"It's empty," he whispered to her, disturbed by the silence.

We should be careful.

Eragon walked ahead between the houses, following the trail, until he saw smoke coming out of a chimney. They headed that way, and soon the strange feeling he had before made sense. The urgals could be sleeping in if he didn't know better.

"Barzûl!" He said low to himself with his teeth clenched.

Eragon entered the house with the smokey chimney. He drew Moonlight and trod with caution. There he found two urgals, a couple, lying on the ground. There were no signs of struggle, still, they were dead.

The fire certainly lit to keep the place warm at night was dying out, casting its last columns of smoke. Eragon moved on to the next house and the next, and more people were found. Lifeless. It was clear the majority of them died in their sleep, like a wind of death had swept the village.

They can't be all dead, little one. Look further.

Eragon did what she said but thought it was a complete waste of time. It was clear they were all dead.

I thought urgals could do magic.

Saphira sniffed the air looking for a sign of life.

"Some of them do. But why do you ask?"

Isn't it clear that they were attacked by magic? Shouldn't they have any wards to protect them?

"Not if she used speechless magic, which I'm sure she did."

Eragon put his hands on his knees and bent over feeling a sudden sickness. He held his breakfast in the best he could.

"If she did that to the urgals, can you imagine what she can do to humans?"

We need to follow her tracks and stop her before she advances even further, and now she has an entire village worth of energy to help her.

Eragon agreed and started looking for signs of her presence there. What he found, however, was more disheartening than encouraging.

"Ra'zac!" He said after inspecting a mark on the snow. "Saphira, come see this. I think it's a Lethrblaka footprint. What does it look to you?"

Her silence confirmed his suspicion.

"She's riding one of them."

Prepared for when she has to fight us, dragons and Riders.

"We should go."

Essie clung to her spear with all the strength she had. Side by side with other women and younger men, she protected the castle's front door where the elderly and other defenseless citizens took shelter, while men who had volunteered for the fight and other soldiers formed a line of defense around them. She was so focused on protecting that door from those trying to go inside that she was startled when it opened all of a sudden and Lord Dain marched out of there with his bow in hands and wearing shiny silver armor. Lady Ismira followed him to the courtyard where they said their goodbyes before he vanished in the streets of Ceunon heading to the north wall. Lady Ismira fixed her armor and positioned herself by Essie's right side, holding her spear just as firmly as Essie did. They traded resolute looks and prepared for war.

Lord Dain waited on top of the north wall along with the Rider Thom and many other archers. Thom had his eyes focused ahead, inspecting the snowy land in front of them illuminated by the faint winter light on the coldest day so far in that season. By the left and all the way to the northwest, the bay seemed alive with agitated waters.

"How long do you think it will take until they get here?" Dain whispered.

"They're already here, hidden by the trees. You just can't see them."

"Can you?"

Thom gave him a side smile and Dain realized his eyes were a little unfocused. Dain looked up to see Lorgas and the other dragons flying in circles, so high they could pass as night owls.

"Are they ready to attack?"

"I don't think so."

"What are they waiting for?"

Thom raised his shoulders and sat down on the edge of the wall.

"I don't know. Maybe for the night to come. Either way, we're waiting."

After they took off from the village, all hopes of seeing tracks that led them to the Ra'zac and Bachel were lost. Once in the sky, there were no signs of them anywhere. Saphira tried to follow smells and air currents, but after scouting the Spine for the entire day, Eragon decided it was enough. The next day they would resume their search, but for the moment, it was too cold and getting too dark to start a fight that important.

"I hate this," he said as she landed near the barn.

Me too. Maybe we should keep going south through the Spine. I'm concerned about Therinsford and the other villages.

"Therinsford was evacuated on Nasuada's orders when the attack on Carvahall happened, the entire valley was. I don't think there's much we can do now but rest for tomorrow."

Eragon set the fire to keep the barn warm and prepare his supper. Saphira, exhausted from the day, curled up in a ball and closed her eyes. By the time he finished fetching the food in his bag, she was already snoozing. Realizing he didn't have the right utensils for cooking, Eragon cursed low. A cold dinner of bread and cheese, offered by Angela, would satisfy his hunger, but after freezing in the Spine, all he craved was some hot soup filling up his stomach. So, careful not to wake Saphira up, he exited the barn and walked to the house, fighting the snow that came down heavily that night.

With a quick spell, he lit the candles that were placed around the house so he could navigate the rooms. His mind was so focused on the task of collecting the right items for his cooking – a pot, a spoon, a soup bowl –, that he barely processed that the house didn't look the same as the day before.

It was only when he stepped out the door that perception came to his mind. He turned on his heels and lit up the candles again. There was a hand mirror on the dinner table and a sheet of parchment placed under it.

Eragon walked to the dinner table and put the items he had collected on top of it, then grabbed the parchment. It was a hand note, with his name on it.

Master Eragon,

Avelina told me that you and Saphira came looking for Bachel in the Spine, so Vance and I came to your aid. We thought we would find you here, but since we didn't, we will keep on looking. If you find this, know that we are close but unable to contact you. I tried to scry you but couldn't, I believe you have blocked any sort of searching spell.

Eragon's hand shot to the neck of his shirt, searching for his hammer chain to find it still there. The strange thing was that he didn't feel it getting warm against his skin, and figured the pendant got lost in between two layers of clothing during the day.

We will return at dawn,

Renir

So Renir and Vance came to find them. If Eragon were to give that order, he wouldn't be able to voluntarily risk their lives like that, but he was glad they were near, ready to fight by his side. All he had to do now was to wait for them to join him and Saphira so they could keep their search for Bachel. What he wasn't expecting was that Renir and Vance would come earlier than dawn. And what he would never dare to think was that Bachel was the one following them.

Vance looked like a fireball when he crossed the sky involved in red magic and fell with a thud on the frozen fields.

Two flying creatures followed closely, on the back of one of them Eragon recognized Bachel, with her glowing hands and crazed hair.

"Saphira!" He shouted with his mouth and mind, exiting the house and sprinting to the fields.

Arya felt a stabbing pain on her lower belly and suppressed a yell. Elva wasn't as careful when expressing Arya's pain.

"Argh!"

What was that? Fírnen asked concerned.

It was nothing, keep going. I want to be in Carvahall tonight. She said trying to keep him calm before shutting her mind to him.

Since the outskirts of Sílthrim, they had been flying nonstop, with only a quick stop in Ellesméra to retrieve the Eldunarí Eragon had left behind and inform Vanir that her guards were set to apprehend Däthedr and bring him to the city. After that, Fírnen had been the bravest, battling the cold and the western winds so they could arrive as soon as possible.

The Bay of Fundor was already in view, and Ceunon extended down below, illuminated by torches and fire pits. It was a city ready for war, and the dragons flying over it only gave it a more hostile appearance.

Vanir said Carvahall, so Arya was decided not to stop in Ceunon, not even when she heard the first roars and war cries. Not even when the first barrel of oil was poured down the wall and set on fire, torching dozens of people alive. Not even then.

When they left Ceunon behind, she felt Elva grabbing her cloak with too much force, panting loudly close to her ear.

"Stop, Arya, please. We need to stop," she mumbled, but Arya could hear her perfectly even under the howling wind.

"We can't!" She turned to speak. She couldn't deny that the pain was starting to blind her, but she gritted her teeth and remained strong in the saddle. It was almost as painful as the last time, and she feared what that could mean. Dreading what might come next, she removed her glove and ran her hand between her legs. It was with relief that it came out dry and clean.

"I will be all right, won't I?" She asked turning back to Elva, who kept her forehead leaning against Arya's shoulder.

Elva shook her head and said faintly, "I don't know. But make it stop, please."

Arya took a deep breath to gather enough energy to cast a spell that would dull the pain she felt. When the words came out of her mouth, relief washed over her. For the moment, her concerns about another lost baby would have to wait.

Dain shot the arrow that hit the first enemy that charged toward Ceunon. It was supposed to hit him in the eye, but instead, it hit an invisible wall and fell to the ground. It happened the same to the other archers. A snarl came out of their throats in unison.

"I hate magic!" He exclaimed to Thom that shot his arrows as well.

"Keep going! We need to exhaust their wards."

"Can't you just throw a counterspell?"

Thom shook his head.

"It's not that simple. Come on, keep throwing the arrows! Order your men to do so as well."

Dain grabbed his bow and ran back and forth on the wall shouting orders to his archers, joining them in shooting the arrows. He then ran back to Thom after meeting with his general, who prepared the oil.

"Just say the word, Rider."

Thom looked down to the invaders that forced the doors warded by magic or placed long stairs to go over the walls.

"Do it."

Dain looked back to his general and shouted, "Send the oil!"

Hot oil was poured down on the outside of the wall, bathing the enemies, making them slip and be trampled by the ones that came behind. Without even looking at his dragon, Thom knew what was coming next. Lorgas, Runalla, and the others made sure to set everyone on fire.

Dain had to step back, for the heat was too much for him. Expecting screams and desperate voices, he was disappointed to see that only part of them perished. The rest, hundreds of people, kept advancing, covered in oil and fire, like they only had an annoying itch.

Thom seemed disgusted.

"It's the wards. Keep shooting," he said and mounted on Lorgas when he flew by.

The dragon spat fire whenever they got low enough. Some enemies would fall, but others would take their place and keep advancing.

Dain didn't see how they would beat such powerful wards, but he had to keep trying. For his people, for his wife. For his fallen brother.

Saphira came flying low at an incredible speed and snatched Eragon from behind. He crawled on her spine and found his place on her back, without the saddle.

She gained altitude to watch as Vance's body lay on the field, tinging the snow with his blood. The magic still encircled him, very similar to flames, and it was a bizarre image, as if a dragon was on fire. Renir tried to pull his leg from under Vance, and Eragon knew he had many broken bones from the fall. He tried but failed. It was too much strain to keep fighting, so he just let his body rest on the ground, his hand letting go of Brisingr.

Before Saphira could react, Bachel let herself drop from her mount and fall by Renir's side. It was with horror that they watched as she pushed a spear through Renir's throat, making him choke on his blood that came out in streams.

"NO!"

Eragon's scream mixed with Saphira's desperate roar. Vance's dead body burned away, as Renir drowned in his blood. All reason left their minds, there was only rage.

A/N: One more, two to go. I'm still editing the final chapters, but it looks very promising. When I post again, it will be to bring it all at once.

I hope you liked this! Let me know.

Thank you, and see you soon!