Chapter 60 – There's A Time And A Place To Die

The mindset he had achieved on the way to Carvahall the day before, of perfect calm and composure, was all for nothing in the end. Eragon saw red. He felt his body trembling, and he knew it had nothing to do with the cold.

Saphira sped up toward Bachel, and without any concerns about her own well-being, she went for the dive. Eragon was ready to jump. She spat a column of fire, creating a barrier between Eragon and Bachel. He was sure the fire didn't affect the witch, but it was the perfect cover for his charge.

Eragon jumped over the fire and drew Moonlight in the air, aiming to the place he thought she was next to Renir. When the air cleared and Saphira passed over his head, he realized the witch wasn't there anymore and he had pierced the snow with his sword. Only a few feet away, Renir fought to stay alive. Eragon rushed to him and placed his hand over his throat, already saying the words of the healing spell.

"Weise h…"

Renir's cold hand covered his bloody one to stop his intent, and they made eye contact. Eragon could barely see through the tears that threatened to fall, but he saw when Renir smiled and took his last breath, with a word still stuck in his tongue. Eragon thought he heard him call friend.

A million things passed through Eragon's mind, but mostly how unfair it was that a life so important as Renir's or Vance's could be taken like that, in an instant. It made him sick to think of a future where they wouldn't be.

"No, no! Renir!" Eragon pressed on his wound firmly, and if Renir could still breathe, he would've choked the poor elf.

Saphira's roar was like thunder in the sky, as she charged to attack the Ra'zac and their flying parents. They had swords in their hands, that Eragon was sure were used to harm Vance before he was engulfed by Bachel's spell. Saphira was enraged, and he was too. With a last nudge on his mind, she imprinted her desire to kill those horrible creatures.

Without caring for his own well-being, Eragon sheathed Moonlight and grabbed Renir's body and yanked him from under Vance, who had a faint luminosity coming out of him, resulted from the energy attack thrown by Bachel. Eragon carried Renir to lay him down next to Vance's face. He looked peaceful, they both did, if it weren't for all that blood that tinged the snow. Eragon could see it clearly under the moonlight.

The trembling in his hands came back as he watched his friends lying lifeless, so he grabbed Moonlight with much more force. Inside his mind, Gleadr's voice resounded.

Clear your mind, Eragon. And make her angry.

Eragon turned his back to his fallen friends to watch as Bachel spun the spear in her hands with a smug smile on her face. She was mocking him. She could've attacked while he was distracted, but that was not her intention. He would have to turn the tables if he wanted to come out of that alive.

"It's an honor to meet you, Kingslayer. Do you know you made me a favor when you killed the king? He was in my way, but you took care of him. I'll be forever grateful."

Eragon's blood boiled, but that was not the time for that. He needed to calm down and turn the tables as fast as possible.

Avelina ran around the wall shouting instructions to the magicians. A great part of them had never fought in a war and was faltering under the immense pressure of doing magic in that circumstances.

"Stay focused, people! And don't open your mind for each other!"

Some of them cast spells on the arrows, so they could pierce the enemies' wards faster; others were specialized in protecting the soldiers with wards of their own; but there were even others that were strong enough to fight and deal some serious damage. Avelina wanted them with her, so she ordered them to follow her to the ground, where they would battle the hooded figures walking among the non-magical foot-soldiers.

She gathered them around the doors that were forced from the outside and waited. Ceunon's guards also waited just as many soldiers behind her. Outside, the dragons kept throwing fire, but there were times they had to retreat, for the counterattacks were too much for them, who battled to stay in the air.

Avelina worried about Runalla, and it was with relief that she felt her mind brushing against her own and allow an instant of openness.

Are you all right, Nalla?

Yes, but I thought I saw Fírnen, just now. Is Arya with you?

No. When I contacted Vanir, I asked her to go to Carvahall.

But we need them here! Arya is proficient in speechless magic.

They need her there, Nalla. If they really are to meet Bachel and probably the Ra'zac, then I'd rather have her there, with Eragon and Renir.

It was clear to Avelina that the idea displeased Runalla. She was polite enough not to fight her for it.

Fine. But I hope the spells you and Amara created work on these magicians out here. They are about to hurt one of us if they keep having room to work.

We will end them, don't worry, and then our soldiers will run over the others like an avalanche.

Avelina's confidence was great, but she felt something was wrong. Even if she managed to put the plan in motion, there was something very wrong happening, she just couldn't put her finger on it yet.

Eragon could see with the corner of his eye as Saphira battled the Lethrblaka in the sky. She was fierce and much bigger, but they were two and had their offspring riding on their backs. Bachel must have shared the mount with one of the Ra'zac, and Eragon's stomach stirred just to think of that kind of proximity with those foul creatures.

Bachel still spun the spear when Eragon stepped forward. Who was going to be the first one accessing magic? He wasn't thrilled to do it at all. If the fight came down to be of a sword against a spear, then he was sure he was going to win, but if magic was an option, the bets were open, and he feared Bachel had a slight advantage. Or maybe it was not that slight.

Make her angry, Glaedr had said before he fused his mind with Eragon's, creating a shared consciousness, where the thoughts didn't have an owner. The image of Bachel's gem appeared in his mind.

Eragon took a deep breath to make himself more collected and reached for his belt inside his cloak.

"A very good friend of mine gave me this. I think it's something you would like to see. What do you think of my new stone? I'm not sure how it works yet, but I think it's pretty, so I keep it with me at all times." His annoying tone could make even him get angry with himself.

Bachel was easy bait. Her face turned red when she saw the stone in his hand. The work of a lifetime, spinning in his palm, as he played with it. Her eyes seemed glazed. Then they turned red. A shiny shade of red. Her palms also started to glow as she dropped the spear.

If she attacks mentally, we will work together. If she attacks with magic, keep focused and only counteract when you are sure.

Aye, master.

Bachel didn't attack at first, and Eragon thought she was trying to keep her calm. So, he chose to provoke her a little more. In his younger years, anger was a constant companion, and wrong choices were made for it. He had time to better himself, but there was still a long way ahead. Renir's and Vance's deaths were a challenge to his self-control, so was Saphira fighting alone.

"So, you don't like my new stone? My friend said you would."

"Angela…" She whispered with her teeth clenched.

"Oh, you know Angela, great."

Talk about Angela being a better witch than her.

"Let us talk about her, huh? For me, Angela is the best witch there is. I mean, she does things no one can."

Bachel shook her head and her red eyes left his face and seemed unfocused as she kept saying in a raspy voice, "All tricks and favoritism. Only tricks, no magic."

Her reaction piqued Eragon's curiosity, so he gave two steps toward her, still holding Moonlight with a grip of iron in his right hand and the gem in his left. The fight light that still came out of Vance's body threw a wicked glow over her figure.

"What are you saying?"

"TRICKS! She is a trickster! That's all!"

Her shouting made her eyes and hands glow even brighter in the night, and Eragon had to turn his head to the side not to be blinded by her. When he looked back at her, he saw her raising her hands to him, showing her red palms.

"What else did she tell you? What did she say about me?"

Lie!

"She said you were always in second. Never at her level."

"LIAR!"

He must have struck a chord, for a ball of energy came out of her hands at an incredible speed, but Eragon was able to deflect it with Moonlight. The sword vibrated in his hand, and a soft wave of green magic ran through the blade as it was repairing it. What kind of magic Arya had put there? He was not anxious to find out.

"What else?" Bachel was obsessed with Angela, and he could bet his right arm that they once competed with each other for something and Angela won. He would appeal to that notion.

"That you're a loser. A sore one, in fact."

Another ball of energy came his way, and again he used Moonlight to defend himself. Arya's magic involved the blade again, fixing any dents. Eragon realized it was drawing the energy necessary to complete the spell from his belt. Arya had always had an interesting relationship with that belt, no wonder she thought of it when casting the spell.

"What I don't understand—," he started taking another step. They were about thirty feet away from each other now. "—is the reason why you are doing all of this."

Eragon wished to gain time. He needed Saphira to win her fight soon, but he had no clue how she was. At least she was free of harm, or he would have felt it. He glanced at the spot he thought she was, but couldn't see anything so far away except she had set some trees on fire. He could hear her roaring and an occasional stream of fire ripping through the night, burning more trees and the remains of some failed crops.

Bachel's erratic behavior became focused somehow, but not on him, on a memory or a thought. She looked at him intensely and the red light in her eyes dimmed so he could see their true color under all the beaming. They were light blue, lighter than Renir's. They seemed surreal, almost ethereal. It looked like she couldn't see right without all that red light, but he knew well she could.

"I want what is mine by right," she said with an angry voice.

"And what is that? The throne?" Why would she think the throne was hers by right? Maybe Galbatorix was her relative. But he was a usurper, so even if that were the case, she wouldn't have any right to the throne.

Bachel scoffed and her hands stopped glowing altogether.

"Only small minds desire the throne. Any throne. I want more."

She picked a sore wound of Eragon's for he immediately thought of Arya and her throne, and how he wished she had never accepted the role of elven queen.

"The destruction of all thrones?" He suggested.

A wicked smiled appeared on her dreamer's face.

"That's not a bad idea, Kingslayer. But no, the thrones will serve me well when I get where I want."

It made sense now. Bachel was behind the coup against Arya and Orrin's incursion over the Kingdom, and Eragon wouldn't be surprised if Orik reported some political tension going on with his people.

"So you built an army."

"Only to divert the gaze. Once I'm done with you, your Riders will be unorganized enough to overlook my moves. Sure they will win the fight in Ceunon, but at what cost? When they start reacting to me, it will be too late. Orrin will be king, and I will be there to whisper in his ear."

"Who are they? Your soldiers?"

Bachel paused as if considering if it was worth telling him her story. In the end, she relented, for she was eager for attention.

"Runaways from Nasuada's law. Galbatorix's old followers and young magicians. Then the little group started getting bigger and bigger. Not all of them is versed in magic, though."

"Well, Angela was right, you are ambitious." Bachel puffed her chest proudly. "But she didn't mention how dumb you are."

All the pride she showed was gone in a second, and rage was back. Bachel was almost childish in her reactions, it made him think that she had been living in isolation for too long before gathering her army. She had never learned how to develop and control her emotions, and that was why she was easily manipulated by his words.

"Dumb?" She said in a growl.

"Dumb, because you think you can defeat me."

"I can!"

"Without your precious stone? I don't think so."

Bachel was ready to prove herself and to do that she gathered a big portion of energy and cast a spell to control his mind at the same time she attacked him with her habitual balls of light. It was a big sequence of attacks, so Eragon had to work hard to deflect them all, feeling Moonlight vibrate at each one of them. Bachel's red magic fused with Arya's green one at some point, creating a terrifying but beautiful spectacle. Inside his mind, he felt Glaedr helping to hold his walls up, as Bachel tried to invade them.

Glaedr was an ancient dragon, powerful and strong, and Eragon had an impressive mind as well. However, Bachel had a mental force that Eragon thought could only rival the one the Mad Kind had. It was like a pressure confining him inside of himself, with only the company of the Eldunarí. If only the others had chosen to come with him, then Bachel would be surely defeated.

She felt like a war machine mining his defenses, making a true siege around his fenced gardens. Eragon intensified the traps for when she would succeed in breaching his walls because he knew she would.

Glaedr added another layer of defense as well but prepared for the combat. In the physical world, her attacks made him walk back, fending her onslaught with a very exhausted Moonlight. He didn't know how long Arya's spell would keep it undamaged.

She followed him, with fury in her eyes, never ceasing the attack. It made Eragon think about her energy source.

She has something else with her. Glaedr pitched in.

Eragon inspected her attire. It was composed of a black cloak that enveloped her petite form, and under it, she wore black armor, without any adornments. It was sober and opaque. He didn't see any signs of a new gem but suspected she would keep it hidden afraid not to lose it again. Then the thought of the dead urgals in the village made him sick, for it was certain that she was using their vitality to support her spells. He had to take the upper hand quickly.

Instead of only defending, Eragon sought Glaedr's incentive to start attacking.

She is surprised by my presence in your mind. She didn't expect to fight two individuals instead of one. We can take advantage of her confusion.

Together they dropped his mental walls at once and pierced her mind with a thorn. Not expecting to be attacked and seeming relaxed in her defenses, Bachel gasped and paused the energy balls, giving an opening for him to use Moonlight to strike. He ran forward, as Glaedr helped hold the thorn deep into her mind, and tried to cut her from shoulder to waist. The blade found her forearm instead and was repelled by her wards with the same force he used to strike. His arm was thrown back, and it was very clear it had dislocated.

A sharp pain shot from his shoulder to his entire arm and even his spine, and he stumbled back until his knees bent and he fell on the ground. He could not hold Moonlight anymore, so it bounced back and got lost in the snow. Feeling too distracted by the pain, he left an opening in his defenses, that she used to subdue him. Glaedr fought her the best he could, but without Eragon's help, it would be impossible to win. Bachel was too strong.

"Waíse heil," he said to himself before standing up, and his arm snapped back in place. The pain was gone, but it was still tender.

Taking advantage of the moment, Bachel launched another set of energy attacks. Eragon crossed his arms in front of his face to protect himself and trusted his wards. They protected his integrity, that's true, but he was thrown several feet back and landed with his head hitting the ground, letting the gem roll away from his hand, he didn't see where. The snow did nothing to break his fall. He fell and immediately felt the air fleeing his lungs and his energy levels lowering drastically. The speechless magic was too straining to him. He could be proficient in it and almost do it without much thought, but controlling the flux of energy was still something he had to learn. Bachel on the other hand was a master of that kind of magic, using it as it pleased her.

Inside his head, his traps were being activated one by one, fending her off, but she kept making advances, fighting both his hostile garden and Glaedr's stratagems. Bachel started to walk toward him, and he thought she was going to keep attacking with magic, but she surprised him by picking up Brisingr on the way. The night was dark, but the fire emanating from the trees still burned, leaving an odor of destruction in the air. Under that sickening light, he saw as Bachel switched his old sword from one hand to another. It was the end of life as he knew it.

Amara shouted a cheer as she flew by Avelina on Norfir's back.

"It worked!" Avelina shouted back, with a big smile on her face.

It was true that the Kingdom's and Surda's magicians weren't the best and a few of them dropped dead as they tried to keep up with the Riders when casting the spells that would break the enemies' wards. But in the end, they were a great help. Avelina made a mental note to remember to thank Murtagh for that idea of recruiting Du Vrangr Gata and the surdans.

Norfir led the attack, and with their wards gone, the first enemies to breach through the double doors were burned to death. The ones that followed were protected by a dome of energy, but that was easily surpassed by Avelina, who mentally thought of a confusion spell on the hooded magicians, making them drop the shield. Another group of adversaries was taken down by the dragons.

"Nalla! Now!" Avelina screamed both physically and mentally.

Runalla sped up toward her and captured her from the ground, making Avelina crawl to her back.

The dragon flew over the enemy field outside the wall and dove to attack the first magician. The hooded figure was still trying to get rid of the confusion spell when Runalla bit him still in the air. Avelina saw as his head flew over the battlefield.

Lorgas, Walbor, Inqen, and Norfir picked their prey and attacked too. One by one, the hooded figures were being defeated.

It feels too easy.

Don't think that, Lina. We are winning!

Runalla couldn't believe their plan worked. It was too good to be true.

Bachel walked slowly toward him, savoring the moment. She had Brisingr in her hands, studying it, playing with him, probably reveling in the fact that Eragon's old sword would be the one to take his life. She wasn't frivolous, however. She recognized his power, so she made sure his mind was under her control before attacking.

Eragon braced himself as he felt her disarming one more of his traps. He tried to envelop her in poison ivy, make her lose her way inside his head, but with a hot iron, she pierced through his defenses, one by one. Glaedr added strength to Eragon's intentions, but it seemed it wasn't enough. It was baffling how Bachel alone could defeat a centennial dragon and a Rider.

There was still one last line of defense in his mind, the very core, the place where he kept his source of magic. He hoped that trap worked, or he would be doomed.

Inside the confidentiality of his core, he passed the message to Glaedr. He showed him an image of Doru Araeba, and how everything there seemed changed. A warning sounded in his mind coming from the old dragon. Eragon knew that it was a desperate move, but it was the only one he could think of because if Bachel accessed more of his memories, she would have all the secrets shared with him by the dragons. So, if he had to die, he would take her with him and bury his memories in his childhood land.

He squinted his eyes as Bachel forced her entry. In her face, Eragon could see an expression of straining, and droplets of sweat fell from her forehead.

"You… will… let me in," she struggled to say.

Eragon didn't deny it. He only regretted not having time to say goodbye.

When Bachel reached the final barrier, Eragon felt immense pain in his head, as it was being split open. She hesitated, feeling the same pain. Deciding to continue, she pushed further but paused again, because, in the distance, Eragon didn't know how distant, they heard a roar. It didn't sound like Saphira's.

Another roar, closer now. And then he felt like an explosion happened inside his head, and soon he wasn't in control anymore.

Bachel stumbled back, wide-eyed, and fell sitting on the snow. In the mental realm, Eragon felt his defenses being lift up and deafening music sounding all around. Suddenly, the core of his mind was locked under layers and layers of defenses, his defenses, and his traps were being armed again. Saphira did that, finally close enough to join him without it being too straining or distracting, but there were other people there with her and Glaedr.

Bachel tried to hold herself inside his garden, but this other person kept attacking her. There was an exchange of mental spells, and Eragon took the lead on that. He thought of a swirling sea, filling his mental space, carrying whoever stayed in the way. Bachel counteracted with a desert, that dried the sea out. He knew he couldn't try to cause her harm, otherwise, her wards would stop him, and the other way around was also true. So they played around each other.

He thought of the music they were both hearing and how it seemed to affect her, so he increased the intensity and wished she could only hear that sound, nothing else. Her eyes widened even more, and with her free hand, Bachel clasped the side of her head.

Eragon could tell she was trying to make it stop, experimenting with counterspells, but that was the thing about speechless magic, without the exact intention in mind, it was almost impossible to break a well-thought piece of magic.

Master, he said in the confines of his mind, please, try to break her wards, I need to finish this by hand.

Glaedr consented, so Eragon stood up and searched the ground until he found the gem. When he turned to Bachel, she seemed like a wild animal in fury, waving Brisingr from side to side.

What happened?

Arya blocked her sight. But I advise you not to attack yet, or her wards will damage you again.

Arya?

It's her music you are hearing, don't you recognize it? Fírnen is in your mental realm as well. They have joined Saphira. I hope that ends soon.

The scene in front of them posed a difficult choice. On the side, Eragon fought Bachel after Arya had blinded her. On the other part of the field, Saphira fended the Ra'zac off. The Lethrblaka cornered her as the Ra'zac attacked her with swords.

Arya decided to access Saphira's mind first. She had thick and powerful walls raised, which meant she was isolated from Eragon. Arya forced against Saphira's defenses until the dragon recognized her and let her and Fírnen in. Together they fought Bachel off just in time before she could reach domination over Eragon. Still connected with Eragon and Glaedr, they focused their attention on defeating the Ra'zac.

Fírnen headed to the place where Saphira fought them, and Arya turned to Elva and advised her to use a spell to empty her ears since the Lethrblaka were known for their debilitating shrieks. Elva did what she said and braced herself for the impact.

Fírnen launched himself against the first Lethrblaka, and as expected the creature screeched loudly, but they weren't affected. They rolled midair as Fírnen's claws dug into the other's flesh. With ferocious bites, he tried to pierce through the Lethrblaka's neck. Arya intensified her music inside their collective mind, so Eragon was protected while she fought her own fight.

As Arya expected, the Ra'zac that mounted that Lethrblaka drew their sword against her and Elva. With one hand, Elva grabbed Arya's shoulder to balance herself on the saddle, but with the other, she managed to hit the creature in the arm. Her sword made a loud crashing sound when it hit the exoskeleton. Arya took the opportunity to disarm the Ra'zac just in time to avoid being pierced in the leg.

Fírnen kept biting and clawing, as they approached the ground with too much speed.

Fírnen! She heard Saphira say, and at once she saw what everybody saw. Eragon fighting Bachel, Moonlight against Brisingr, Saphira biting the Ra'zac's head off, while its mount charged to attack her. You're going to crash!

Through his eyes, Arya saw as Fírnen contorted his body so he could fly upward and throw the Lethrblaka to the ground at the same time. The creature crashed into the snow with a great speed, as Fírnen watched from above. He flew over to aid Saphira, and together they tore the other Lethrblaka apart. There were only two now, one Ra'zac and its parent.

It was dark, but the fire coming from the burning trees illuminated the fields enough for Arya to see when the Ra'zac rolled away from the Lethrblaka and went running to pick something up on the ground. It took her a while to realize it, but she did, it was too late.

Eragon watched as Bachel growled in anger with her red eyes. Brisingr looked like a toy in her hands, and it filled Eragon with despise for her.

Thinking about what Glaedr had questioned, Eragon found an answer. He didn't recognize Arya's music because he had never heard it like that. It sounded like an angry choir, full of screeches and piercing high notes. He never received damage from her like that, for she had always turned it down when joining their minds together. He made sure to express his gratitude to her the next time they spoke.

Bachel seemed to regain her sight little by little, and as soon as she could see his shape in the dark she charged, moving Brisingr to cut him. She wasn't very skilled with the sword, but she was fast, so fast he almost didn't have time to dodge. He rolled to the side, careful not to lose the gem again.

Master, is it safe for me to use magic? I have nothing.

Glaedr passed a negative through their link but affirmed she was out of his mental boundaries. He was free to think and command his own intentions, so he had to try.

Drawing, energy from the gem, Eragon imagined an icy road in front of Bachel, just in time to stop her new advance. He could laugh if the situation wasn't so tense, but she slipped until she turned the road into a sandy patch of land. Eragon ran to the spot where he thought Moonlight was, trying to escape her spells. First, she created a gust of wind, to carry him away, but he used an energy barrier to protect him from it. Then she made the snow melt under his feet, making him slip and lose balance. It was a lucky situation she had put him, for when he fell on all fours, he felt his right hand pressing down on a platinum blade.

"Yes!" He cheered and turned already raising his sword to stop a blow to his head. The gem dropped from his hand and got lost in the stream of melting snow.

The clash of swords made them both grit their teeth from the impact. A shock ran through his arm as he had never fought someone so strong. Bachel used magic in every aspect of her life, and self-enhancement was obviously one of them, something Eragon would never agree with.

He took the opportunity to stand up and hold Moonlight with both hands in front of his body.

In his mind, he still felt Glaedr assaulting her defenses, in hopes to do to her what she did to Eragon. He added his strength to the onslaught, so did Fírnen, Saphira, and Arya, whose music sounded louder than ever.

The good news was that Bachel was distracted by her confrontation with the dragons, himself, and Arya, on the other hand, she seemed even more furious and started to attack him viciously with Brisingr.

Every blow she threw at him was well defended, but Moonlight gave clear signs of exhaustion. Eragon grunted when a wave of Arya's magic involved the blade, but couldn't repair it completely, leaving a dent right on the base, near the guard.

He had to finish it soon, hoping Glaedr succeeded in lowering her defenses so he could do her harm.

Essie was impatient but relieved that the enemies hadn't reached the castle yet.

"Don't let your guard down!" Lady Ismira exclaimed as Essie let her spear hang low in had hands.

"I'm sorry, my Lady, but no one's coming. I don't think we will have to fight tonight."

Essie regretted her words almost immediately, for screams could be heard coming from the streets.

"You were saying?" Ismira ironized as she hardened her expression and ready her spear.

The yard full of fighters came to life as the sounds came closer to the castle walls. The men fortifying the place shot arrows to stop the invasion, but it only worked to slow it down.

"Where are the Riders?" Essie complained.

"Fighting more dangerous people, I bet. The one in cloaks. These ones are ours to take down, get ready."

Essie admired the Carvahall people more than ever and wished she had half their courage.

The Riders were busy elsewhere. They were satisfied with their success in naturalizing the hooded figures, but the enemies were too many, and they seemed focused on getting into the city and causing the most damage they could. Trying to take them all was a never-ending task, but the dragons dove from the sky, biting, ripping, as some of the Riders went on foot or endorsed the archers. Without the wards, it was easier to keep them at bay, but the battle was far from over.

"I thought they would retreat when they saw that the magicians were gone," Golak grabbed Avelina's arm as he passed by her in the middle of the fight.

"So did I. I thought they would surrender, but they keep advancing. We have no choice but to stop them. Use magic if you must, but be careful," she responded trying to catch her breath.

The night was dark and long, with no signs of ending yet.

Now, Eragon!

Glaedr's voice resounding in his mind, so he started to walk forward instead of only defending. He landed a blow to her shoulder and watched as she flinched with a grunt, blood spilling in her face. It was a good sign. Her wards were down.

But not for long! She will recover soon, so hurry up!

Eragon could perceive the dragon's strain in his voice so he worked fast. Bachel was confused when at an incredible speed Eragon moved from a position to another. The red in her eyes intensified and was reflected on the blue blade, making it look malicious.

First Eragon worked to mine her balance, attacking her knees. With a diagonal strike, Moonlight sliced Bachel's poleyns. Even damaged, Moonlight was a powerful sword. With a fast transition, Eragon brought his blade to the top of his head and let it cut from above. She blocked his strike with Brisingr, but the strength of the attack made her bend her knee. Eragon could smile to see her like that, but a clinking sound made him look up to see his platinum blade being shattered against Brisingr.

Eragon raised his hand that still held the hilt of a broken Moonlight when a sharp pain tore his right side, making him drop it. In his mind, the image of Saphira being pierced by a spear blinded him with hate.

"Saphira!" He shouted through his teeth.

Everything happened so fast he couldn't react. Still panting from the pain and wide-eyed he felt another stabbing pain, this time in his chest. It wasn't a normal pain, however, not like the one of having a spear piercing through his blue scales, or having his shoulder dislocated. It was odd. Cold and electrical. His eyes were unfocused, but his mind could see through his other eyes, blue, green, amber. He was clearly in danger. No… He couldn't believe it yet, but he was dying.

Does time slow down when people are dying? Eragon couldn't believe that the tears that formed in his eyes took so very long to run down his cheeks. He watched as his own body convulsed and expelled a stream of vivid blood and suddenly the emotions were too much for him. Rage, loss, fear. They weren't his. Neither the staggering amount of energy that entered his being at once, making him gasp to feel all the life he thought he was losing. He was being dominated and soon his own eyes focused ahead, but he wasn't the one looking. Someone else was. A snarl came out of his lips, but again it wasn't his voice. He was a mere spectator inside himself as he was being lulled to calm by a loving song in his mind. He recognized the voice, so sweet and caring… He missed her.

It was fast. Now he understood. Dying is fast, surviving is slow. Quickly the being that controlled his hands took the hilt of Brisingr pressing the hands of his attacker under his. It was an iron grip. He knew then. It had to be her. Her strong grip on Bachel's hands through his own broke every one of her fingers at once, in one big snap, so she had to let go. Bachel's red eyes suddenly focused on what he had just done and panic reached her.

Arya moved Eragon's palms ahead and from there came out a wave of magic so powerful that Eragon didn't understand where all that energy came from. He was impressed and also proud.

Arya was the most powerful and skilled individual he had ever seen. She had produced speechless magic using his body and mind, all the while running toward him with a superior speed. He could feel the wind on his face – her face – somewhere in his head. The others had their battles to fight and he could feel those too, especially how Saphira was losing too much blood through her wound, but kept tearing a Ra'zac apart just to get to him, leaving a trail of death behind her.

It was fast. Much faster now that the wave had passed and his knees collapsed. As he knelt there, he watched as Bachel was thrown several feet away by the wave of energy coming from his palms, landing by Arya's feet, who looked at the scene with both rage and disgust. That's what she wanted when she created the wave, to lead the witch to her so she could personally punish her. She didn't hesitate and chopped her head off with a strike of Támerlein. Eragon could feel the ruthlessness in her heart. She didn't pause to contemplate her deed, instead, she ran to Eragon. Still, in control of his body, she held Brisingr by its handle with both his hands.

When she motioned to touch the sword in his chest with the intention of starting to heal him with her own hands, he asked her mentally for her to let go of her control of him. She shook his head, afraid of letting go of his livelihood too.

"Just… lend me your energy." His voice was faint and strained. His lips, teeth, and tongue were tinged by the redness of his blood.

She didn't argue, although he felt she wanted to, instead, she reached for his mind and started to pour energy into him, and that huge amount of energy he had felt before kept flowing, he didn't know from where. He didn't ask.

Eragon closed his eyes, his body was trembling, and he felt like he was going to pass out. It was incredible to think he still hadn't. The only explanation was that Arya was keeping him awake by her own expenses.

He took a deep breath and screamed "Brisingr!"

His old blade burst out in blue flames as if recognizing him, and he started to slowly pull it out from his chest. Energy was being drained from both of the Riders' bodies, but still, more of it was coming in.

The blue fire started to spread through his body from the stab wound like the magic filled the gap left by the sword. It wasn't a real fire, but healing magic, the result of his creativity. When the blade was completely out, his tissue was gradually healing, and he felt the pressure on his sternum dim by the second.

His magic engulfed him in the form of blue fire, but he didn't feel any heat, instead, it was a cool sensation, mending any cuts and bruises. When his body was completed healed, the fire went out, and Eragon bent forward, hands to the ground. Arya pushed some more of her energy into his body and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Eragon, are you all right?" Her voice was severely concerned.

He simply nodded but didn't look at her, his eyes were staring at something that wasn't there. He then raised his head and looked up, in his field of view Saphira approached them with an unstable flight, blood pouring from her right side. They had never seen so much blood and it was impossible to hold the gasp when she landed with a violent thud. The realization that Bachel had enchanted the spear used by the Ra'zac to hurt Saphira came to all of them at once.

His head was heavy and he couldn't keep a straight thought anymore. Eragon swayed forward again and fell on Arya's lap, losing all grasp of consciousness.

In the darkness of his mind, he was alone, no one had followed him there. His immaterial body roamed around a muddy ground. His feet were heavy because each step buried his boots to the ankles, making it hard to make progress. Lightning crossed the dark sky and the bit of light that was shed on the ground made it possible for him to see that the mud was a gory mixture of dirt, blood, and other remains. He was stepping on death. The strongest nausea hit his stomach, but when he bent over to throw up a coldness in his chest made him come back to reality.

Eragon stood up at once and spat some blood that was still in his mouth. He breathed heavily and touched around his chest to look for the source of the coldness. The blade had been removed and his wound was healed under his ripped vest and shirt, still, the sensation of cold water being dripped on his skin was suffocating. He gasped to gain some air.

Arya's arms went around his waist to support his weight.

"Breathe, Eragon. You're safe now."

He tried to do so, but he was still feeling lightheaded.

"Saphira?"

His mind tried to reach hers, but she was just a dim light in their collective mental space.

He walked toward her supported by Arya and watched as she blinked heavily twice before closing her giant eyes. He didn't say anything or expressed anything for that matter. Only his eyes spoke and they were of a mad man. He rid himself of Arya's arms and placed his hands on Saphira's wounded side, closed his eyes, and accessed his magic.

"No, Eragon! You are still too weak."

One more time he shouted the word that meant fire for others, but for him, it was a healing prayer.

The same blue fire started from his palms to her side. It licked her scales and penetrated between them. The effort made Eragon falter a bit, but he didn't fall or weakened. Glaedr was there to lend him his energy, but it passed through him and into Saphira, without making him any stronger, just enough to power the spell. It was a hard night for the Eldunarí as well.

Eragon felt for the last time as the big rush of energy that had poured into him when healing his own wounds aided him with the spell. It was when Arya's music resounded inside his mind, so he understood that she was controlling the flow, and the source was the Eldunarí she had with her, in a pocket in space just the way he kept Glaedr.

Saphira was a big mass of blue cold fire, illuminating the darker hours of the night, as Eragon sustained the spell. Her wound closed in a sufferable low pace, which cost even more energy, that Eragon drew from his belt, the beautiful object gifted to him by his fallen friends, Vance and Renir.

Shaking the bad thoughts away, he reached with his mind the debilitated consciousness that was Saphira. She was semi-alert but sent him a confident thought. She trusted him. With that, he focused even harder on his magic and made it ignite the fire inside his dragon's chest. The air around her was becoming warmer and soon it was hot enough for him to have difficulty breathing. With a final draw of energy, he concentrated on blending his healing fire to her innate one, so her body could finish healing itself. The combination produced a blast that threw him and Arya to the air and back, and in the middle of if Saphira opened her eyes and roared in a sudden movement.

Eragon hit his head in the fall and didn't make any effort to hold on to his consciousness. He welcomed the darkness once again.

The sinking dirt was starting to become more populated. Dead bodies sparse on the field had the eyes of the enemies he had slain before in his life. He killed them all and showered the land with their blood. In the distance, he saw as soldiers ran around in flames. They called for him.

Feeling enormous pressure on his legs, he forced himself to open his eyes. He squinted when the first morning light hit his face. He was out for a while, enough for the day to arrive. He looked down and saw the giant maw that weighted on his legs. Saphira puffed a cloud of warm smoke on him when their eyes met. He took a deep breath and leaned back again.

"We almost died." She let out smoke on him again when he spoke. "We're almost worthless separated, aren't we?"

She didn't respond, just stayed there looking fondly at him.

"What? My spell burned your tongue?" He joked closing his eyes again.

He then felt a warm hand pressing on his chest where Brisingr had entered him. He looked up and saw Arya searching for his look.

She looked terribly worried, even had watery eyes.

Eragon wanted to say something but didn't find the right words for it. So she reached for the back of his head and lifted his body only enough to carefully place him on her lap. That movement made Fírnen and Elva come into his field of view. She had Bachel's spear in her hands, the one the Ra'zac used to attack Saphira. Before, she helped Fírnen get rid of the last one. He didn't see it with his own eyes, but while he healed Saphira, the images went through their link, and he watched as Fírnen threw the foul creature to the air, and it felt right in front of Elva, agonizing. She pierced its exoskeleton mercilessly, making the Ra'zac screech. It moved its head from side to side, before perishing from its injuries.

And now she stood there, with that horrible spear in her hands, watching him with a pained expression.

Arya kept holding his neck with one hand and the other one grabbed his chin with more strength than it would be comfortable. It was a blessing though to be inside her warmth after lying on the frozen fields of his family's farm for so long.

"Don't you ever do that again!" She was fierce in her words, but her eyes were caring, pained.

"What part?"

"All of it, the almost dying part. And then almost dying again in a spell that could've turned you into dust." A tear rolled down her cheek, and he raised his hand to wipe it. He realized he was trembling with weakness.

"Right back at you, my queen."

She clenched her jaw.

"Promise."

"You know I can't promise that." His voice was weak and hoarse. "You of all people know that I would do it again in a heartbeat if needed." He glanced at Saphira, who blinked at him.

Arya turned to her as well and still looking at the blue dragon simply answered.

"I know." She took a deep breath and let out a sigh.

He felt the need to close his eyes again when Fírnen finally joined after making sure the Ra'zac were all dead. He lay on the ground beside them, licking Saphira on the cheek before touching Eragon's forehead with his nose.

Arya pulled him closer on her lap to rest her head on his.

"I'm taking you away from Alagaësia so you won't ever have to return to it ever again, do you hear me? It seems that everything here wants you dead, and I'm not having it anymore." Her voice was feral, protective. He missed her.

"Aye, my queen."

Eragon let his body rest for a bit. But dying is fast. If the person blinks, they might miss it. The coldness in his chest began again, and Saphira started to agitate around him. He thought he heard Elva's scream of pain. Fírnen got up and tried to move Saphira away as Arya knelt again by his side tearing his shirt in half. Blood started to pour from his previously healed wound. That was odd, for he thought he had fixed that.

What was happening? Things were so fast now. When had the world started spinning? Who knew the world could spin. That was something curious…