Chapter Thirty-One: Garzhvog—Ushnark

Ushnark was wise.

Ushnark, she had learned, was the Urgal term for "father" and she liked to refer to him as such. She knew his actual name was Garzhvog, and she liked that name, too.

He called her Dautr at times. It meant "daughter" in the Ancient Language. She liked hearing him call her that.

She sometimes wondered how a big thing like Ushnark could be so silent. When they moved through the woods, he made not a sound save for the slightest rustling of foliage.

He was a firm teacher. Not harsh, but he did not coddle her. She had to learn to fend for herself, Ushnark had said. He would not feed her forever. One day, she would have to hunt for herself. He was adamant in this—in ensuring she understood that she would have to learn how to survive anything life threw at her.

Their Master, the great gold dragon Glaedr, communed with Ushnark in silence for several minutes at the edge of the woods, and then they were walking together into the forest. She hurried to keep up with him, following his large strides with several leaps. Her belly rumbled hungrily and she shrieked at him to gain his attention, projecting her hunger through their bond.

Ushnark stopped and glanced down at her. "Shelter first. Then we hunt."

They kept walking for a long time. By the time they were deep in the woods, she was exhausted and cranky. Ushnark removed the huge axe from his back and she grumbled at him, but he paid her no mind. He began to hack down a tree to use as lumber for a simple shelter, and he moved so slowly that she became irritated. She let out a whine.

Garzhvog turned and held a finger to his lips. "No. Be patient. The first mark of a hunter is patience."

He impressed that knowledge, knowledge he had gained and honed for many seasons, through their bond to the infant dragon. Even though she didn't yet fully understand his words, she understood his intent well. She also felt his sternness and the steel of a hunter far more experienced than she.

Though she wasn't thrilled with it, she sat down and made a small chirp. The Kull gave her a nod of approval.

It took an hour for Garzhvog to construct a simple lean-to large enough for both of them to rest in. He then used the branches from the tree he'd felled to craft a small (by his standards, anyways) hunting bow and a small quiver of arrows, which took yet more time. He could feel the dragon's impatience, if her constant fidgeting and occasional low growl didn't make that obvious.

That would be a process. She would learn patience in time. She was young—she did not yet know better.

He set the arrows in his quiver and hooked the bow around his shoulder. Leaving Domia resting inside of the lean-to, Garzhvog turned to the dragon hatchling. She was studying something in the trees, and he whistled lowly to regain her attention. The small head snapped to him as Garzhvog pointed deeper into the woods.

"Now we hunt. Come."

They found a herd of deer near a small creek. The dragon caught their scent and knew they were the same creatures whose meat she had consumed earlier in the day.

She crouched, hindquarters wiggling eagerly, but Garzhvog's mind poked at hers and she looked up to see the Kull looking down on her sternly. When he spoke, his voice was scarcely a breath. "Still. Silence."

He impressed the command to her and she managed to reduce her wriggles to a slight quiver. She watched as he sent a pulse of praise to her, and then he slowly shifted the bow from his shoulder. Ushnark moved—smooth, confident, and with grace only decades of skill could produce—and drew the bowstring back after nocking an arrow. He inhaled through his nostrils, slow and deep, yet quiet. His eyes narrowed as he locked onto a buck with a distinct limp in his back leg.

His focus went through their bond and she could scarcely move. It was intense and powerful.

As he exhaled, Ushnark let the arrow fly. It soared through the air and his aim was true—the arrow buried itself into the heart of the buck and the impact dropped the creature straight to the ground. The rest of the herd scattered, fleeing deep into the woods.

Garzhvog grunted in satisfaction. "Come. Be vigilant."

She scrambled after him as Ushnark strode towards the downed animal, who was still alive despite its mortal wound. He knelt beside it and pinned the kicking legs with one hand, then reached for the buck's neck with another. With a quick, sharp push, she heard the spinal cord snap and watched the light leave the eyes of the creature.

The dragon squealed, eager to dive into her meal, but Ushnark stopped her. "No. Not yet."

She glared at him, but Garzhvog straightened, looking down into her eyes, and flared his nostrils. "No."

The dragon was hungry—so hungry, he could feel the rumble in her belly. But he would not be swayed.

"There are other predators in the woods," he told her. "We will take only what we need, and leave the rest for the scavengers. Do not be greedy."

He unsheathed a hunting knife and began to cut and quarter the animal while the dragon sat close by, still hungry and annoyed, but obedient.

When they finally returned to the lean-to, Garzhvog set up a fire and began to prepare his own food. The dragon by now was very annoyed, having to wait until her Rider was done cooking before she could satiate her immense hunger. She growled at him to express her displeasure and he stared at her for a few moments.

"You have much to learn of patience, Dautr."

She hissed at his amused tone and tried to pounce on him, but he tossed her onto her back and pinned her down with just one, massive hand. She snarled and wiggled beneath Ushnark's huge palm as he casually kept her trapped. The Kull chuckled deeply, a booming sound that shook the air around him.

"We eat together, Dautr. Only a poor leader lets his tribe go hungry while he feeds himself."

The dragon knew that lesson was probably important, and she would be plenty willing to memorize it after her belly was full. Garzhvog smirked at her, still pinning the baby dragon with ridiculous ease.

One day, she would be big enough to wrestle him to the ground.

Today was not that day.

Garzhvog watched through the foliage as Illgra stalked through the underbrush in silence. She had learned quickly despite her youth; though she still had a long way to go before she would match his skill, her ability to slink through the forest like a wolf was admirable.

The dragon locked onto the herd of deer and began to loop around towards them. Garzhvog saw her trail and stopped her with a thought.

You are heading too far east. They will smell you.

I could still get close enough if I reach that oak.

He gauged the distance to the huge tree. Then try.

That gave Illgra pause. Ushnark only let her commit to a risky plan so easily if there was a lesson to be learned. The dragon crouched lower and considered her desired hunting path. Though the oak tree provided good cover and got her close to the herd, she would be exposed for some time before she reached it at the pace she needed to sneak up on them. The herd would smell her and they would flee—they knew the scent of dragons well.

She considered her options. If she doubled back, the herd might start moving on. They'd been here for some time already. If she pressed forward, they'd likely sense her. Yet from here, she could not reach them in time.

Not from the ground.

Her gaze trailed just behind her to a dead log that lay at an angle, just high enough perhaps for her to get airborne.

It was worth an attempt.

Illgra carefully twisted and began to climb up the tree, keeping herself as close to the bark as she could to prevent the herd from seeing her. She climbed as high as she dared, bunched her muscles, and launched herself into the air.

Not a second after she did so, one of the stags sounded in alarm. She pounded her wings and descended upon the herd, locking onto a doe. With one more push, she tucked her wings in and dove upon the herbivore, tackling it to the ground. Her claws pinned the creature and her teeth snapped into the neck, breaking the spinal cord with a quick twist.

The rest of the deer were gone already. Illgra stood up and turned as Garzhvog approached, nodding in approval.

"Well done."

Thank you, Ushnark. Will you eat as well?

"Not now. Eat what you wish. I shall keep watch."

The dragon sent him a pulse of gratitude through the bond and bit into the hindquarters of the deer while her Rider settled down to watch out for them.

Illgra snapped at Thorn's tail, who growled and climbed higher to escape the smaller dragon. She could see Ushnark on the red male's back, but he was focused on working with with his current sparring partner.

Astride Illgra herself, Murtagh pat her neck to regain her attention. Steady. Yes, we are chasing, but he is bigger and older than you. Give him some space—we will use our greater speed to win.

She acknowledged his advice with a thought, but didn't give Thorn perhaps as much space as she should have. It irritated her that she could not yet train in this way with Garzhvog; at six months of age, he was simply too heavy for her to fly effectively with in combat. She needed to grow more so his weight wouldn't slow her down.

But more than that, she wanted to force Thorn to take her seriously. These practice bouts were useful for training, but they did not quell the fire in her blood. She bit at him again and the ruby dragon shot her an irritated glare over his shoulder, but he did nothing more. His lack of a reaction only incensed her more.

Murtagh's warning soon bore fruit, as Thorn suddenly surged upwards with two flaps of his great wings, tucked himself in, and dove towards Illgra. The mahogany female roared in surprise and barely twisted to avoid his attack, but her chest was caught by his powerful tail and the blow threw her off-balance. By the time she regained control of herself, Thorn had already wheeled around and was in prime position to finish her off.

Glaedr's voice rumbled in their minds. Enough. The bout goes to Thorn and Garzhvog.

Illgra snarled in annoyance at her loss, but focused as their Master spoke to the four of them. An impressive display, but not without its flaws. You were too confident, Illgra. You did not heed Murtagh's warning to back off. Thorn would have run you down dead were you fighting for your lives.

Yes, Master, she acknowledged reluctantly.

Glaedr seemed ready to announce the start of the next match when Garzhvog intervened. Master, if I might have a few minutes with Illgra? I think it wise for us to speak alone.

The golden male pondered the request for a moment before allowing it. Very well. Return to the cliffs. Murtagh, Thorn—we shall spar in the meantime.

The two dragons landed and their Riders dismounted. Murtagh switched from Illgra to Thorn and they were off again, following Glaedr as the old male led them to the skies. Illgra watched Thorn fly off with longing, but her Rider pulled her attention back to him.

He sat down in the grass on the edge of the crags and gestured for her to join him. Illgra did so and watched Ushnark despite the heat still roiling in her blood.

Garzhvog could feel her adrenaline acutely and chuckled deep. He knows you exist, Illgra.

She growled. I'm aware.

You're like a young ram, the Kull grinned at her. Nothing held back. So certain for all your posturing and fighting that the object of your affections has yet to take notice of you.

Has he? Illgra lowered her head onto her front paws and snorted in aggravation. I know I am only just recently of age, but he has steadfastly ignored my advances. Clearly, I'm not doing enough.

You are in too great a hurry. Thorn will not take a mate on a whim.

He took Saphira, didn't he?

Garzhvog sighed at the jealousy in Illgra's tone. Yes, he and Saphira were mates—for a matter of hours, Illgra. It did not work out.

She turned her head away. He could feel the hot pit in her belly as if it were his own. She laid two eggs by him.

Her Rider reached over to grasp her head and pulled her with his massive strength to hold her skull close to him. You speak jealously of a flame that has gone out, Dautr. You harm only yourself doing so.

I only want him to look at me, she sighed. Am I not beautiful enough?

You are the most beautiful creature this land has birthed and nothing could convince me otherwise, he told her with unwavering certainty. But answer me this—would you want Thorn's interest in you to lie only in your beauty? Do you not want to find in him a partner who will stand by you for more than a fleeting moment?

She didn't respond to that. Garzhvog stroked the scales above her brow soothingly. He will not seek you out for passing interest, Illgra. You know this. Thorn, I'm sure, would forge a bond with you first. You have grown up around him, Saphira, and Firnen, yes, but do you truly know him?

I suppose not, she admitted quietly.

Then learn about him. When you speak next, do not challenge him as you have of late. Learn who Thorn is, not the male who has caught your eye. Learn of Thorn the dragon.

Illgra leaned the weight of her head against Garzhvog. I will try. I promise I will try.

Your blood runs hot and eager, he said. I know the feeling well. You will temper it in time.

The dragoness kept close to her Rider for some time. Ushnark? Did you ever have a mate?

Garzhvog paused. I did. But no longer.

She sensed an old sorrow in her Rider and made a low rumble in her throat to soothe him. Will you tell me about her?

Yes, Dautr.

Garzhvog's eyes narrowed as he spotted the shapes of horses running towards their supply convoy. Beneath him, Illgra growled.

Raiders?

It would seem so, he agreed. Descend slowly. Keep to the clouds.

She did as he asked and he reached out with his mind to the elf currently leading the convoy to the Varden. As he did so, he tried to gauge the size of the incoming force. Though he could not count them out individually this high up, he estimated there were perhaps at least thirty and as many as fifty riders altogether.

Yaela, Garzhvog said, getting the female elf's attention. There is a large group of horse riders coming upon you from the west. I do not know their intentions, but they are in a hurry. Prepare the convoy—Illgra and I shall descend on them from the north.

The elven spellcaster sent him an acknowledgement and he could see their caravan below moving quickly to prepare for a possible attack. Though there had been attacks from raiders over the past year and a half, none of their gangs had been this large—and none had possessed the audacity to strike in broad daylight.

Illgra kept close to the clouds, watching the raiders draw ever closer. When they were just above the horsemen, Garzhvog grunted. Now.

His dragon tucked her wings in and dove, locked onto the raiders with the precision of an arrow. As they drew closer, he reached towards them with his mind and sensed their desire to raid and rob the sizable caravan. Weapons were unsheathed as they cried out in unison for blood.

Illgra sneered. I shall give them blood if that is what they seek.

Agreed. Cut them off from our allies.

She banked slightly further to the east and flared her wings out as they neared their enemies. The horses screamed in terror and their riders matched them as Illgra opened her jaws and unleashed a torrent of near-black fire.

The stream drove a clear line between the convoy of supplies for the Varden and the raiders, who struggled to regain control of their panicking animals. Garzhvog spotted Yaela as she began to cast her spells, putting up wards to defend them from any attacks.

Illgra wheeled around and landed behind the raiders, pinning them between herself and the inferno. She snarled dangerously at them as Garzhvog dismounted and brandished Domia. The great battle-axe gleamed in the light, eager to shed blood.

He locked onto the man who was apparently in-command, seeing as he was shouting orders at his followers to regroup. We keep that one alive. I want to know why this party is so large.

And the others?

They cannot know that you and I exist. The Empire must remain blind to the truth.

So be it.

Illgra roared and lunged into the ranks of the raiders as her Rider let out a bellow and charged them in tandem. As his dragon bit and burned her enemies, Garzhvog cut them down one by one. A man attempted to drive a spear into him from atop his horse, but the Kull grabbed and snapped the weapon like a twig, reached up to the man, and broke his neck with a firm squeeze.

A group of raiders were trying to flee. He reached out to Yaela again. Eliminate the stragglers. Illgra and I shall focus on the host.

As you wish.

Moments later, the fleeing raiders simply fell dead from their saddles. Yaela must have used one of the twelve words of death. Satisfied that none were escaping, Garzhvog continued his bloody work with his dragon partner.

Illgra snapped her jaws into one of the last riders and threw him into the fire. A man ran at her, screaming in terror as he held a sword aloft, and her tail lashed out to shatter his body. He died upon impact.

Garzhvog's eyes locked onto the leader and he reached out with his mind to seize control of the man. The leader froze in his saddle and Garzhvog slowly approached the panicked horse, sending it assurances that he would not bring upon the animal any harm.

When he reached the horse's side, Garzhvog unstrapped the leader of the raiders and pulled him from his saddle, then ordered the horse to walk to the back of the convoy. They would deal with the surviving horses later—Yaela would likely send them to Du Weldenvarden, where they could live peacefully.

He looked up and was satisfied to see Illgra throw the remaining two raiders from their horses. They flew through the air, screaming, and hit the ground with sickening thuds that killed them immediately.

Again, he sent the horses to safety.

Garzhvog scanned the carnage and reached out to Yaela. That was all of them?

It was. The only one alive is the man you have.

I will search his mind. Tend to their horses and prepare to continue our travels. The vultures will be here soon.

Agreed.

Garzhvog lifted the leader of the raiders up with one massive hand, barely feeling the weight. "Now, you will tell me your purpose here."

His mind drilled into the raider's, seeking out information. The man was untrained, to no one's surprise, and thus put up no resistance to Garzhvog's probe.

He found little of value, but it seemed the raiders had grown desperate since the trade between the Varden and Surda had been shut down. Their raids on the human convoys had dried up, forcing them to band together and attack the much riskier elven shipments further east.

Garzhvog took note of their desperation and change of target, then muttered a word of death, killing the leader. He dropped the corpse and turned to Illgra, who had joined him in searching the man's mind.

We shall have to be more careful, she told him. If Saphira or Thorn are spotted and someone survives to tell the tale, it will mean little. But if someone talks about Firnen or myself—

—Our hope for secrecy will be for naught, Garzhvog finished, agreeing with her. I will bring the topic up to Nasuada when we reach the Varden. We may have to take longer routes further east to avoid encounters such as this.

Their chances are not great, she pointed out.

I do not take chances with the Traitor King.

Illgra growled and nodded. Garzhvog surveyed the carnage one more time and began to gather the energy of the dead and dying raiders into a diamond at the base of Domia's grip, as he'd been doing from the moment he'd learned the skill. The growing energy reserves would be useful when the time came for open war. His fellow Riders had, of course, been utilizing the same practice throughout their tutelage under Oromis and Glaedr.

Yaela contacted him through his mind. The horses have calmed. What would you do with them?

I think they have seen enough fighting, Garzhvog responded. If you think it safe, send them to your forest. They have earned a respite.

She sent him a pulse of gratitude and the Kull smiled fondly. Yaela's love for horses was no great secret. He focused again. Let us be off. I would see us gone before the scavengers find this mess.

Very well.

Garzhvog watched as Illgra and Saphira battled playfully in the sky above the Crags of Tel'naeir.

What a wonder three years and growing maturity did, he reflected with no small amount of amusement. Illgra had gone from admiration of the blue female when she was but an infant, to jealousy over Saphira's one-time relationship with Thorn, to friendship when she finally tempered her hot blood.

Saphira, to her credit, had been mostly patient with the younger female as she matured. There had been a few fights, but nothing serious. Illgra had learned, and that was what mattered.

He heard two bellows and looked back in the direction of Ellesmera to see Thorn and Firnen surging over the forest towards the pair of females. Saphira roared at them and Illgra matched her, and then the four of them climbed higher to expand their contest.

Eragon, seated beside him while they took a respite from their rigorous lessons, watched the dragons with a wide smile. "At least they're enjoying themselves."

"That is one way of putting it," Garzhvog admitted. He watched as the dragons spat lazy bursts of differing-colored flames, hot enough to melt steel and sear the flesh from bone.

Firnen snapped at Illgra and Thorn suddenly betrayed his fellow male, biting at his tail. The green dragon snarled and fled from the larger red, who was then followed by the two females as Firnen found himself retreating from all three of them.

Eragon observed the interaction curiously. "Thorn didn't like that, did he?"

"Would you want another male biting at the object of your heart's interest?"

"My heart doesn't have an object of interest."

"Say that in the Ancient Language."

Eragon met Garzhvog's declaration with a steady stare, to which the Kull raised a challenging eyebrow.

To the surprise of neither of them, Eragon could not speak lies in the tongue of the elves. He looked away and Garzhvog offered the young man a friendly nudge. "I am only poking fun."

"You and Saphira both. And Murtagh. And Firnen. Gods above, I thought I was discreet."

"You are good at concealing it," Garzhvog admitted. "But we know you too well."

"I've noticed," Eragon said dryly.

Garzhvog chuckled and decided to steer the conversation somewhere a little less delicate. "It won't be long before I have to start seeking out the Urgralgra. Would you like to accompany me to my home tribe when the time comes?"

Eragon blinked and tilted his head. "Do you think my Urgralgrish is good enough? I still get stuck on some of the language."

"It is passable, and I can fill in any gaps. I think you will find it enjoyable. My people are…wild and rough."

The young man cracked a smirk. "Is that supposed to discourage me?"

"On the contrary, I thought it would be just the right kind of bait for you."

"Do I appear to be a fish?"

"You certainly swim enough to be one."

Eragon slugged the Kull's shoulder with a punch he barely felt and they both laughed.

Garzhvog sensed more than saw Arya dive past his guard and then felt the tip of her guarded sword slide against his ribcage.

It would have been a severe blow, but the Kull managed to catch the sword as she leapt away and yanked it from her grip with his greater strength. Arya let it go and managed to prevent herself from stumbling too much, then jumped away from the Urgal Rider as he grabbed at her.

She dove past him again and then leapt onto his shoulders with that ridiculous elven agility, wrapping one of her legs around his throat and grasping his horns with one hand to keep his head still. The flat of her free palm set itself against he back of his neck, at the base of the skull.

"Dead," she declared.

Garzhvog conceded the match. Arya was one of the few elves who had figured out how to fight experienced Kull like himself effectively. Most of them were too overconfident in their speed and forgot about his berserker ways—pain would not stop him. Only death would.

The number of times he'd caught an elf off-guard and ended the fight before they knew what happened amused him. Vanir had nursed a concussion for hours in the aftermath of their first spar.

Good times.

Arya leapt from his shoulders with a lazy flip and landed deftly on her feet. Garzhvog cracked his neck and turned to face her. "A good fight."

"Indeed," she agreed. Arya studied him carefully. "Have you spoken with Master Oromis and Master Glaedr any more about Kulkarvek?"

"They requested I give them time to consider the matter," he admitted. "We have progressed, yes, but I do not want to walk Illgra and myself into a death trap, even if we will have to deal with him eventually. Opheila has expressed a desire to assist us should we go after the King, but we shall see."

Arya hummed. "And taking other Riders is out of the question."

"I will have the right to challenge him in single combat once I regain my status as Chieftain of the Bolvek Tribe. But if he sees me bring allies beyond my own kind, he will not hesitate to set the whole of his barrow upon us. We cannot fight them on their own territory—not without burning it to the ground. Even then…"

The elf nodded. "He is dangerous."

"And sooner or later, we will topple him as surely as the Traitor King. The old evils must fall if there is to be any sort of lasting peace."

Arya was quiet. "I confess, I do not know if I understand truly what lasting peace is. My life has revolved around battle and death for so long."

"There have been quiet moments, have there not?" Garzhvog reminded her, to which she inclined her head. "Even the Urgralgra seek lulls in our struggles for dominance. Endless war achieves nothing but extinction."

The Kull suddenly smirked at her in a way that made her wary. "Besides, you had a rather enjoyable trip recently, did you not?"

Arya lifted a regal eyebrow. "It was work."

"Hm," he grunted, not believing her. "If you say so."

The elf seemed to resist the urge to roll her eyes and instead settled for glancing away from her fellow Rider. Only someone who knew her as well as Garzhvog did would spot the slightest uptick of her lips into a soft smile.

"It was enjoyable."

"Treasure those moments, Arya," Garzhvog encouraged her. "For they are precious, indeed."

She inclined her head and let her eyes flit to the sun, gauging its position. "Shall we retire early? Master Oromis might appreciate some help preparing dinner for all of us."

Garzhvog shrugged. "I am satisfied with our progress today if you are."

Arya nodded and the two of them put away their weapons as they walked off of the sparring grounds.

Four years of training had carried them far.

Garzhvog leaned low over Illgra as the dragoness led Saphira towards the lands that were home to the Bolvek Tribe—his old family. Anxiety, excitement, and determination surged through their bond. Both were eager to see Garzhvog's old barrow, to see his kin.

With luck, they would guide them and the other Urgal clans into an alliance that would strike Galbatorix dead.

Illgra's mind touched his. Kulkarvek first, then Galbatorix.

Garzhvog send a pulse of agreement. Oromis had, after careful consideration, given him permission to seek out the Urgal King. He was prepared. Opheila was with them, hidden in his saddle bags with a spell to conceal her presence. Between her, Garzhvog himself, and Illgra, they had the might to at least match Kulkarvek.

If he accepted the challenge of a Chieftain who was also a Dragon Rider.

But Garzhvog knew his race, and he knew the King would not dare deny him. He was too set in the old ways.

The Kull Rider bared his teeth in a vicious scowl. I will tear his head from his shoulders and take back what he stole from the dragons. I will seize his seat for myself and claim his old barrows in my name. Then we will have war.

Illgra's response was wordless, wild savagery that sent his blood pumping. They would take the fight to those old, false Kings who would cower in the face of their strength, and they would slay them.

That was a certainty.

A/N: There you have it; the name of our fourth dragon! Illgra is pronounced "ill-grah" just for reference. If you go through this chapter, you might pick up on glimpses into some of the other Rider one-shots.

Next chapter will revolve around Murtagh and Thorn!

As ever, please review and thanks for reading!