A blur of blue shot through the clouds. The she dragon pumped her wings hard, never failing to catch an advantageous gust of wind or thermal, using every bit of her instinct and training to fly as fast south as possible. Astride her, firmly lashed to the saddle, sat a brown haired Rider, lost in his thoughts, or rather, just the one thought. "Solustenr." he frowned. After two entire days of hard flying, followed by tense, restless nights, Eragon still had no idea what he truly felt of the orange dragon, or what to make of him. He had been terrified when the dragon had burst out of stone in the Spine so many weeks ago, and when Saphira and he had animatedly conveyed what they had experienced, Oromis had gone white as a sheet, and Glaedr had given a great yowl outside that had nearly torn down the stones of the small hut atop the Crags of Tel'naeír. The old elf had, after much prying, finally admitted that Solustenr had once been pupil of theirs, and had been thought long dead. At Feinster, through Glaedr's Eldunarí, he was awestruck to have caught flashes of Solustenr's fight against Thorn and Murtagh/Galbatorix. And now, the dragon seemed oddly content, albeit a bit bored, with guarding the Varden's army as they made their way to Dras Leona. The male dragon was prideful and vain, yet humble enough to put his own life on the line for others. Grief-stricken, but willing to put aside his emotions to fight for Alagaesia's future. Solustenr also looked nearly as big as Glaedr, but still behaved somewhat similar to Saphira.
That uncertainness had led Eragon to beg Solustenr to watch over Arya for him, not because he thought Arya could not take care of herself, but because he needed to find some way to test the orange dragon, to see if he would stay with the Varden, and to see if Solustenr would actually act to protect them. "Though," he thought, a slightly lopsided grin cracking across his face, "I do feel more content knowing she has a giant dragon protecting her."
Shaking his head, Eragon resolved to focus on the task ahead of him. With the large orange dragon safeguarding Nasuada, Arya, and rest of the Varden, he and Saphira could redirect their efforts toward the battle ahead of them.
"Eragon? Are you alright?" the she dragon questioned.
"Yes, sorry. I was preoccupied thinking about something." he sheepishly responded.
He could hear the tinkling of Saphira's laughter. "Nothing to be ashamed of, little one. What caught your mind?"
Hesitantly, Eragon replied "Solustenr. The new dragon. I do not yet know what to think of him."
He felt Saphira's muscles tense up below him, and discontent flitted through their bond. Concerned, Eragon asked "Does he trouble you, Saphira?"
Saphira angrily responded, whipping her head from side to side. "I would think, Eragon, that the less we speak, or think of that oath breaker, the better."
"He IS on our side now, Saphira, and he apologized for his actions in the Spine." Eragon replied. "You yourself should know how rare a thing it is for a dragon to do that. Should he not deserve a clean slate, a chance to start fresh?"
"He apologized for the actions of a mad-claw. That fool came with Thorn and Murtagh to Gil'ead from Urû'baen, meaning he served the king willingly, for some time. THAT was a choice."
An exhausted feeling washed over Eragon from Saphira, and in a tired voice she continued. "Enough of this, I do not appreciate fighting with you, and I never have. Look down, I believe we are close to our destination." Far below where he sat astride the sapphire dragon, Eragon could make out parts of Aroughs, appearing through patches in the clouds. From what he could see, the port city was constructed in tiers. A lower tier contained much of the city's buildings, with shops, marketplaces, and apartments squeezed tightly together. To the west and north, vast storehouses were arranged in parallel lines. On the southern side close by the ocean, the Empire's soldiers were encamped in wooden barracks that sat within a brown plain. To the south lay the city's marketplace, and the east held most of the city's residential buildings. A higher tier appeared to contain the lord of the city's residence, and was far smaller and more spread out. A thick, pale white wall encircled each tier, with multiple heavily fortified gates positioned at equidistant intervals on the outer wall, and a single gate on the inner tier that faced the sea. Three canals flowed through the city and into the ocean, draining through several gated channels that ran under the walls.
The city, despite the long siege, had very little progress to show for it. He could barely make out some mild damage on the northern side of the city, and outside the walls he could see several siege towers, ballistae, and catapults lined up. Nearby the wooden structures, light gray tents were haphazardly arranged beside the road that led to the rest of the Empire and Surda. Eragon correctly assumed this to be the Varden's siege camp, but it was not the camp that caught his attention. Hundreds of cavalry, heavily armored and not bearing the Varden's sigil, were grouped in front of the tents, jostling to and fro. In front of them, a small figure was seated at a table. Eragon's eyes widened in shock. "Saphira, dive! Now!" he mentally shouted.
The she dragon roared in assent before tucking her wings in, morphing herself into a blue comet that hurtled toward the earth. The blue dragon snapped out her wings just before hitting the ground, and slammed into the midst of the horsemen. Such was her bulk and speed, the she dragon's hindlegs crushed horses and their riders underneath. She bared her teeth, raised her head, and let out a terrifying snarl.
A massive, ferocious dragon just dropping out of the sky was a most alarming sight, and caused many of the horses to scream and rear up in terror. Those immediately around her were thrown from their saddles, including their apparent leader, a small, bearded man with a ridiculously large plumed helmet. Eragon ripped Brisingr out of its sheath and held it aloft, daring someone to be brave enough to attack. He suddenly began feeling a drain on his strength, and craned his head down to see an armored rider thrusting a spear forward, the tapered slim blade halting just an inch from Saphira's scales. The soldier looked at the sight dumbly, before gazing at the furious dragon now glaring back at him. The man visibly gulped, but before he could even think of responding, Saphira snapped her jaws down, catching the human, and ground down with her fangs. Her teeth shredded through plate and mail like paper, and in an instant her jaws snapped together. At the gruesome sight, the majority of the horsemen still astride their horses frantically steered them in the opposite direction, attempting to flee from the Varden's camp. Furious at the insult paid to her, the bright blue dragon darted after them, shooting a vicious cocoon of bright orange-blue flame after the retreating cavalry. The hungry flame incinerated many of the fleeing cavalry, turning man and horseflesh alike to ash.
Turning back, Saphira made her way back to the Varden's pitiful excuse for a camp. Those of the horsemen that had been downed still remained there, utterly shocked. Saphira knelt her head down to their level, baring her teeth. Just as she was about lunge forward, Eragon interjected. "Saphira, wait!"
The sapphire dragon halted, her fangs just inches away from the closest soldier, who was even then still paralyzed in fear. "What, Eragon? I am finishing this."
"No, we'll not slaughter them Saphira. These ones at least did not lift weapons against us, they did not even attempt to run." he replied, pondering what to do.
"Prisoners, then? This camp is far too small to hold them all." she responded, her tail whipping back and forth. "Something must be done, Eragon."
Turning his gaze to the few surviving soldiers stranded upon the clearing, Eragon stared at their faces, each drawn in twisted mixes of horror and fear. Still clutching Brisingr, he leapt off of Saphira, lightly touching the ground with barely a sound. "Flee," his hoarse voice echoed through the clearing. "Flee, and you may yet live to see another day." He stared at each of the men before him, all still either on their backs, hands, or knees, and mentally said "Brisingr", causing his blade to erupt in flame. He leveled the fiery sword directly at the lead rider just before him. "Now, before I lose my patience." The lead rider, a short man in a plumed helmet, and a thin, emaciated man in a sleeveless robe, stared at him in shock. Both of them, trembling violently, quickly backed up on their hands and feet, before stumbling to his feet and desperately running back to the city. His men followed suit, and very soon the pair were left alone on the road.
"That was unwise, little one," Saphira's voice sounded in his mind, mild disapproval in her words. "Enemies that we leave alive today we will face again tomorrow. I know you have no heart for war, but sometimes difficult decisions must be made."
"I know that, Saphira, I truly do. But, if we become butchers like Galbatorix has, there will be no difference between his reign and the next. We have to be better, Saphira, we have to." he earnestly replied. "Besides, Saphira, regardless of how you might enjoy it, I do not wish you to be seen only as a terrifying weapon of war. I want people to see you, all of you, just as I do."
Craning her head over to him, the she-dragon gently nudged him. "Oh little one," she softly whispered. "How could I not love you for your optimism."
"And I for your willingness to indulge me."
Several of the Varden's bravest had creeped out of the tents to watch the fight, but when she turned to them, they hastily beat a retreat. The dragon came to the middle of the encampment, where a larger gray tent lay in a clearing. In front of the tent, a shaggy-haired man stood beside an upturned table, a horn of mead on the ground in front of him, with his mouth open, staring at the sapphire dragon. The man's face was haggard and somewhat hidden behind an unkempt beard, but his eyes were wide awake in shock. Roran.
As the dragon drew closer, Roran smiled, and called out in a loud voice "Carn? I thought you were unable to conjure a dragon." A tall, thin man gingerly poked his head out of a tent near the bearded man, and he turned to face him.
The thin man stared at Saphira, and in a wavering voice replied, "That dragon is not of my making." The man quickly turned back to face the blue dragon, eyes widening with hope noticeably present on his face.
"Is it really you, Eragon?" he asked. "And Saphira as well?"
Saphira craned her head down to face level with the man. Both eyes stared curiously at him, before gently brushing her nose against his face. Even the gentlest of a dragon's touches still caused Roran to be knocked off of his balance. The dragon reared her head back, snout twitching slightly, before Eragon heard her voice brush across his mind and Roran's with mirth and mild annoyance. "Your beard is ticklish."
A ragged smile broke across Roran's visage, and he lightly ran a hand through his scraggly beard. Chuckling, he replied "You sound like Katrina. She keeps pressuring me to trim it, or shave it entirely." Turning back to his men, cautiously approaching from their hiding places within the tents, his smile widened, and he extended a hand to point back to the Rider and his dragon. "Men of the Varden! Our fortunes have brightened. With Eragon and Saphira on our side, Aroughs will be ours!" A ragged cheer broke out amongst those in the camp. Returning to the pair, he said "Come, we have a plan to revise," before beckoning Eragon inside the main tent.
Eragon brushed aside one of the tent flaps to see his bearded cousin standing hunched over a roughly hewn table of wood, one hand resting on his hammer tucked into his belt, and the other carefully tracing a piece of paper. Eragon made his way over to the table, before standing just on the right of Roran. On the table lay a a small stick, burned to charcoal at the tip, and a very badly drawn layout of Aroughs, with the space inside the walls utterly blank. Several small rocks were grouped on the northwestern corner of the map, whilst a long stick lay by itself on the northern end of the map. Roran turned his head to acknowledge Eragon's arrival, then resumed glaring at the map of Aroughs. He pointed to the blank spaces. "Did you fly over Aroughs before landing at the camp?" he questioned.
"We did" Eragon replied hesitantly.
"Can you tell me what lies at this point, past the sluice gates?" he said, pointing at the three openings situated on the northern edge of the walled city. Frantically trying to recall the brief images poking through the clouds, Eragon relayed what he had seen. Roran listened intently. "Can you draw it for me, best you can?" he eagerly continued, chucking the stick at him. Eragon gingerly took the stick in his hands, twirling it in his hands and thinking back to how privileged he was to have been afforded the finest quills Ellesméra had had to offer, before sketching out the interior of Aroughs. Once he was done, Roran hungrily pored over the images.
"Roran?" Eragon asked. "What exactly are you planning?"
Still staring at the map, Roran conveyed what he intended tomorrow. Eragon's mouth opened, several times, until he was certain his jaw was now if not on, then certainly close to the ground. When he finally collected himself, Eragon hesitantly said "That has to be...one of the most insane plans I have ever heard in my life."
Roran replied "Eragon, you are but seventeen years old. I imagine you will hear far more insane plans than this soon enough. Besides," he said, his voice now half a whisper, "Had you not been here, it would have seemed far more insane. I had been planning to go it without you. We had no warning that you would be arriving, and I have been given only several days to capture Aroughs. Desperate deeds for desperate times."
"I know. Given the situation, and given the manpower available, your plan does seem the best one available" he replied. "That still does not mean that the plan is not completely insane" he thought. Eragon ran a hand through his hair before sighing. "I can barely recognize us anymore, Roran. Two years ago you and I were playing pretend fighting with sticks, and now? I mean, you are planning sieges, getting married, having a child, and I am..."
"Pointy?" Roran joked, tapping the tops of his ears.
Eragon cracked a grin before chuckling. "Good to see you can still make light of things. Well then," he said, "if we are to pull this thing off, we had better get a healthy amount of sleep."
As the sun peeked over the hills, Aroughs was slowly coming to life. A few brave individuals walked from building to building, but for the most part, the city still slept, and would not fully wake for several hours. High above the place, Saphira soared, gliding gently on a warm breeze. A weak mind very tentatively contacted Eragon, and after a moment of thought he recognized the voice of Carn, Roran's magician. "Shadeslayer, the barges are nearing the gate."
"Good," he replied. "Prepare yourselves. As we discussed, Saphira and I will leave the inner tier and civilians intact. Constrain your men to the northern portion of the city." He felt the sorcerer's assent, and Carn's mind left him. Saphira drifted down into the morning fog, coming to rest near the outer western walls. There lay large wooden objects, which he was informed were siege towers, catapults, and ballistae. Crouching behind them were fifty-odd men of the Varden, all bearing horns, bows, and dented trumpets. Already fully armored, the Rider hastily strung his elven bow, then nodded to one of the Varden overseeing the siege weapons. Bracing himself by grabbing tightly to Saphira's saddle, the Rider steeled himself as the blue dragon let out a raucous roar, and the men behind him cheered and began blowing their horns and trumpets. Saphira leaped into the air and hovered before the city, placing herself in plain view of the few men that manned square towers that sat astride the wall. Drawing her head up, the sapphire dragon unleashed a rippling pennant of orange-blue flame sent arcing toward the wall. The hungry flame licked and snapped against the white façade, the edges crackling amongst and over crenellations. The men left on the ground beside the siege weapons began feverishly firing ballistae, catapults, and fire tipped arrows, which all arced down into Aroughs.
Within the city, loud shouts and screams sounded. Saphira landed atop one of the two square towers on either side of the gate, her claws gripping stone and tile, and surveyed the town. Eragon swiftly dismounted, drew Brisingr, and rushed to the gatehouse. Inside, two guards had hastily drawn their swords and were staring at the ceiling, above which Saphira was attracting quite a bit of attention. When Eragon entered, the barely noticed him until he was almost on top of them, and by then it was far too late. He slew one with a thrust through the chest, and severed the other man's head before he had the time to warn anyone else nearby. He sheathed his blade, before grabbing the winch that secured the portcullis. Even his enhanced strength after the Agaetí Blödhren, the effort it took to raise the portcullis still made him struggle. After was seemed like hours, but was in fact merely half a minute, the gate was raised. Satisfied his task was complete, Eragon rushed outside onto the wall to observe the situation happening on the ground. Saphira's sudden presence had whipped the citizens of Aroughs into a frenzy. Below him, men, women, and children dashed from building to building. Soldiers, many half-dressed in their black plate, scrambled to find arms and armor. Many denizens of Aroughs stopped in shock when they saw the bright blue dragon peering at them atop the wall, whilst the sight only served to force some to run faster. A hastily formed column of soldiers had approached the gatehouse, and when seeing him, separated into two groups and began scaling the stone staircases on either side of the gatehouse. Snarling, the dragon bounded down onto the wall, swiftly turning, and whipped her tail around her. The long, spiked appendage ripped into the approaching soldiers, send them careening off the wall as if they had been thrown from a catapult. Saphira turned around to face the other column of soldiers and sent another tower of flames their way.
Suddenly, Eragon heard a whistling noise, and he turned to see a large boulder headed their way. One of the tower mounted catapults apparently had been mounted upon a movable floor, a turntable he remembered. The siege weapon, at the sight of Saphira mounting the gatehouse, had been turned in her direction, and a large, mossy boulder hurdled toward the blue dragon and her Rider. Hastily, Eragon thrust a hand wildly, shouting "Jierda". The rock shattered into dust, which harmlessly drifted past Saphira. Eragon slumped due to the drain in energy, but after touching a hand to Aren, he felt his strength restored.
Satisfied that they had been dealt with, Saphira roared her challenge to the skies, beckoning all others after her. Seeing more soldiers answer her call, Eragon hastily leaped astride her, and they took off into the air. A volley of arrows arced toward him; archers having streamed out of the barracks on the southern portion of town. Eragon hastily clutched Saphira's saddle as she spread her wings and leaped into the sky, climbing high above the black cloud. Dozens of higher climbing arrows still managed to fly right at them. "Letta orya thorna!" Eragon cried, thrusting a hand out, and the black darts stopped in midair, and he felt a small drain, exhausting him even further. "Gánga" he thought, and flicked his wrist, sending the arrows from whence they came. Ebony shafts buried themselves into the bowmen, and Saphira roared in triumph.
To the north, he heard a great crash, and knew Roran and his men must have managed to break the canal's gate. "Now to draw them away" he thought. Grimly smiling, he and Saphira flew to the southern half of the city, taking care to avoid the apartments and homes to the east. The southern portion of the city was a large dirt plain that garrisoned Arough's contingent of troops, bolstered by the two-thousand-fold reinforcements sent by Galbatorix. Perhaps at one time the city's defenders were comfortably situated, but with the recent addition, the soldiers were all cramped into tiny barracks, and had turned the once grassy plain into a muddy basin. The military camp was havoc. Soldiers dashed to and fro, desperate to mount some sort of defense against the dragon. Armorers passed out spears, swords, and shields to the hastily awoken men, and barrels of pitch were perched above small fires. Strangely, aside from the one half-built ballistae, none fully built were to be seen, and internally Eragon sighed in relief. "They must have never imagined that we would have made our way this far south. All the better luck for us, and perhaps this battle might be over sooner than I thought." Through his bond, Saphira voiced her assent, and began making several passes over the barracks, liberally dousing the path in front of her with a line of flame. Eragon carefully lit the tips of his arrows with a carefully chosen "istalrí", before firing them into the barrels of pitch. As soon as the fire from either Saphira's flame or Eragon's arrows contacted the pitch, it lit up like kindling, causing the barracks, men, or anything it came in contact to burn. Within minutes, the barracks were utterly engulfed, the reinforcements either dead or fleeing toward the sea.
"Carn. How has your fight progressed?" he said, his mind searching for the thin magician.
"We've made it through the inner gate!" The man's normally gentle voice was harshened and strained by the heat of battle, and an undercurrent of panic rang through his voice. "They have a large force inside, and I fear their magician is with them. Please, we need you to-"
Suddenly, something seemed to cut off the Varden magician's words, as if a wall was suddenly thrown up between them. "Saphira," Eragon exclaimed. "We need to get to the palace now!"
Beating her wings furiously, Saphira stormed toward the inner tier of the city. Shouts and screams rang out, and as the dragon came closer, he saw the lord's residence below him. In the courtyard at the very center of the complex, Carn and the emaciated man, who with a groan he now knew was Aroughs' magician, stood a short distance apart, a fountain between them. On either side, the Varden, split into two groups, charged at the Empire's soldiers, who had organized themselves into a mass of bristling spears on the opposite side of the square. Letting out a snarl, the she dragon dipped down, and tore through the sky toward the Empire's magician. The Empire's magician and Carn had both hastily been chanting when he arrived, but the dragon's roar had startled both into halting. The magician cast a hand crackling with black lightning and began feverishly yelling something in the ancient language. He managed several words, before suddenly stiffening. Saphira slammed into the mortared pavement, crushing a row of columns, and grasped the magician in a foreleg, flinging him across the courtyard to impact against the castle wall. The force was so great, the magician slammed right through the wall, a small, roughly oblong shape forming in the stone. Eragon narrowed his eyes at this. "Wards" he muttered. On the side of the Varden, however, the men thought him dead, and let out a raucous cheer. Snarling, Saphira turned toward the Empire's troops, and let out a deafening shout. Eragon dismounted and ripped Brisingr out of it's sheath, intending to chase the Empire's magician and end him. Seeing an enraged dragon and her Rider before them, an emboldened enemy, and their prized magician apparently disposed of as easily as how a cat would a rat, the soldiers dropped their weapons and ran into the palace's interior.
The men let out a ragged cheer, before Roran urged them into the palace. Eragon and Saphira made to follow, but Roran ran in front of him, waving his hammer. "We need the palace intact!" he hoarsely shouted. "We have it from here. Seize the harbor!"
Eragon opened his mouth to voice his objections, only for Roran to shout "Go! If any of those ships escape, they will summon reinforcements from Teirm!"
Eragon's lips thinned, but he quickly hurried back to Saphira. From his position firmly grasping Saphira's saddle, he could Roran and a visibly shaky and pale Carn leading the Varden into the building's interior. "Damn you, Roran" he muttered. "Damn you and your stubbornness." Nevertheless, Saphira and he took off once more, flying low over the city. The port of Aroughs, while not quite like the majesty of Teirm, still was an impressive site, even in its current disarray. The harbor was arranged in a U shape, with two great lighthouses on either side. Winches secured on each lighthouse were used to raise or lower a massive chain net to prevent enemy forces from entering the harbor. Sailors rushed on and off half a dozen ships currently moored. Saphira quickly angled around to the open end of the harbor, and began circling high in the air. "Can you raise the net?" she questioned.
Eragon squinted with his eyes, and scanned the winch on one of the lighthouses. The thing looked massive, even larger than the ones that raised the portcullis, and even that he had had great difficulty. "No! Not a chance! Even with magic it would take several people!"
One boat, already filled with sailors, attempted to set sail, and began floating down the harbor. When Saphira saw it, she dove, reaching the water's edge in seconds. Once there, she heavily beat her wings, managing to hover in place. The force of her wings beat the sea into a frenzy, causing shockwaves to echo outwards. The sailors on the boat were visibly startled at the sight, but continued steering the ship out to sea.
"Then you know what needs to be done, Eragon." she growled, eyes intently fixed on the approaching boat.
"Please, let me give them a chance. So many have died today, if we give them the choice, they may yield. They must know this battle is lost."
He felt the blue dragon's sadness and sympathy flow across their bond. "Very well. But I will not let them harm you or myself."
Gritting his teeth, Eragon touched his right hand to his throat and said "Skapa iet ódr eld hár, mar vardi iet eyreya" and said the last part for Saphira as well.
"Go no further. I do not wish for your deaths, but if you go further, we will take your lives." He spoke in a normal tone of voice, but the sound was amplified, carrying loudly across the harbor. Even those still fighting within the city were able to hear it. Despite his warning, the ship continued. From within the hold of the ship, a young, flaxen haired girl in a light purple dress, no more than twelve, ran out onto the deck. A large man dressed in rich robes and sporting a well kept beard quickly followed her, attempting to drag her back below deck. When Eragon saw the young girl, his heart caught in his throat, and tears welled in his eyes. "This-This is your last warning. Turn back. Go no further" he said. At this, those on the ship began arming themselves, and arrows began whizzing past Saphira and he, some even bouncing off of her wards. "Please do not make us do this," Eragon silently begged. Despite his admonitions, the ship still sailed his way. "Yield, and I swear that your lives will be spared. Do you not care for your daughter's life?" At this, the robed man trembled, and gripped the girl more tightly. He looked at the girl for a long moment, then withdrew a dagger from his belt, and after whispering a few words to her, quickly slit the young girl's throat. Stepping out on the deck closer to Eragon and Saphira, the she dragon still hovering in the air, he pointed the bloody blade in their direction.
"Better a quick death, than suffer agonies as prisoners in your torture camps!" he shouted.
At this sight, Eragon reeled in Saphira's saddle, and he felt rage billowing from Saphira. "I caused this" he thought.
"No. You gave him a chance. That murderer decided to slay his own kin. Now we must do what we must."
"I know, Saphira." he replied. Several long moments passed. Wordlessly, he canceled the spell amplifying his voice. He gritted his teeth and bent his head down low. "Go ahead. Do it." At this, Saphira lowered her head at the boat, before unleashing a massive jet of fire. The boat burned men and timber alike. A massive plume of smoke drifted upwards, curling like some twisted gray snake into the sky. Eragon had smelled the stench of burning flesh before, but never had it affected him so much as it did today. Bile stirred in his throat, and he hastily leaned over in Saphira's saddle to retch violently. "Difficult decisions, Eragon. We could avoid them forever." Saphira gently said.
"I know that, Saphira." replied Eragon. "But that does not make it hurt any less."
"Little one," Saphira consoled him. "You gave them every chance. You cannot let this affect you so dearly."
Resolving himself, he continued. "I cannot wall myself off to this pain. I have to let it hurt, otherwise, I fear I may become something truly monstrous."
At the sight of the first boat's destruction, those still in the harbor threw down their weapons and, trembling, knelt to the ground. Seeing their surrender, Eragon gave a great sigh of relief, and slumped in his saddle, though the knot in his chest did not disappear.
"I know the ways of dragons and men are quite different, but we just slaughtered an entire boat full of people. There was a child on that boat, perhaps more." he said, shaking his head. "Feeling something, anything, even if it is shame and guilt, makes us better than those we fight. If I become some avenging being, casting my judgement on whomever I choose, however I choose, feeling nothing, I lose that which makes me human, makes me a person. The Order perished due to Galbatorix, but also because they considered themselves above everyone else. They grew complacent. Uncaring. Dulling ourselves to grief and pain dulls us to life itself and the world around us. We have to be better than that, Saphira."
With that, Eragon turned himself back to the city. He cast his mind far and wide, attempting to locate Carn's mind. When he could not find it, he grew confused. Redoubling his search, he focused on the palace, frantically combing through the levels. When he still could not find Carn, he grew worried. "We need to go back, something seems off." he thought. Once more, the pair set off into the air.
When they landed at the lord's residence, far from a cheery, jubilant Varden, they found a weary group of soldiers. Some were flat on their backs, breathing heavily from the day's exertion, whilst others had taken seats on the many benches and chairs within the courtyard. Many had hollow looking and horrified faces, as if some grim, gray specter had robbed them of any joy or happiness. When Saphira landed, there were but a few ragged cheers. Eragon leaped out of the saddle, his feet lightly touching the ground.
"Where is Roran? Is he alright?" he asked. One of the Varden approached him, and after greeting him, informed the Rider that his cousin was still inside the lord's residence, and had not come out. Without delay, Eragon tightly gripped the hilt of Brisingr so that it would not bang against his leg, and dashed off into the building. Inside, the place was trashed. Dead Varden and Empire soldiers littered the ground, though far more of the dead were the Empire.
"Roran?!" he shouted.
A grunt to his left sounded, and he turned to see an older man propped up against one of the palace walls, garbed in battered and bloodied chain mail hauberk and coif, staring at him. Far more worrying was the hand clutching at the shattered shaft of an arrow poking into his abdomen. The warrior, with his free hand, vaguely pointed in the direction of one of the hallways. Eragon knelt down beside the man, and whilst gently chanting in the ancient language, carefully pulled out the arrow. The old man weakly patted his now healed wound, then sighed in relief and thanked him. After checking the hallway to ensure no others still lived, Eragon proceeded onwards. The corridor he took led to a room with a circular skylight providing illumination to a small garden. In the middle of the room, a marble statue of a black dragon stood. In one foreleg, it clutched a small, headless humanoid figure that from the proportions looked perhaps to be an elf. Astride the dragon, another small figure rode, a thin, delicate stone crown carved on its head. The dragon seemed to be bringing the elf into its maw, within which stone fire stirred. With a grimace, he moved past the sculpture. Another battle, albeit smaller, had taken place in the atrium. Once neat rows of flowers were trampled underfoot, and several scorched bodies littered the ground. The acrid smell of ozone and charred flesh wafted into his nose. A short distance further on then them a single ebony figure stood, still upright long after whomever it once was had died. One of its arms was pointed back at the statue. Curiously, long, thin, convoluted tubes of glassy rock littered the ground, emanating from the blackened corpses, with the largest coming forth from the upright one. At the very end of the atrium, Roran himself sat on a bench, turning his hammer over and over in his hands. Roran's eyes were staring back into the middle of the room, and he trembled slightly. Eragon looked in the direction of his gaze, only to see the same magician Saphira had thrown into the wall lying dead propped up against the sculpture, a bloody, suspiciously hammer-shaped hole in his head.
"Roran?" Eragon said gently, his voice half a whisper. "Are you alright?"
Without looking up at him, his cousin said "The city is ours, or at least will be soon enough." Roran continued staring in front of him for some time. He finally looked away from the charred upright body to stare at the dirt below him. "Carn's dead."
Eragon looked once more at the coal-black body, his stomach churning for the second time that day. "I see." Coming to sit beside Roran, he softly asked "How did it happen?"
Roran swallowed, the action seemingly quite painful for him. His boot kicked at a rock nearby, sending the stone off a short ways. "We pressed into the palace. Lord Halstead had planned some sort of stalling measure for us, so there was heavy fighting. We questioned several servant girls, who after some persuasion told us he planned to flee through a tunnel underground to the docks, to escape on a ship that they were making ready." Looking up at Eragon, he asked "But you took care of that I presume."
Trying not to think about it, Eragon nodded quickly.
Roran continued. "One of the men thought he saw Halstead running through here, so we chased him. His little pet viper was hiding behind that statue. When our backs were turned, he threw black lightning at us. Most of us managed to duck out of the way, but it caught several of the men. We tried to run, but the sorcerer cast the bolt again. Carn threw himself in front of us, yelled...something just before it hit him. That loathsome little cockroach froze in place, so I used what time Carn gave me to kill him."
The hammer slipped from his hands and hit the ground with a dull sound. Roran took his head in his hands, seemingly not caring that they were grimy, caked with blood and dirt. "Until today, I thought I had seen men die in every manner possible. Disease, war, famine, but this? Magic, Eragon, magic is both a gift and a curse."
Eragon sighed. "I know, and I cannot help but agree. Magic healed my back, gave me strength, but it also was the way by which I doomed a child to a miserable existence."
He looked at his own hands, clean and aside from an occasional small scar here and there, largely unmarred save his gedwëy ignasia, the silvery mark shining on his right palm.
"How do you stop yourself from going mad? From shattering, and destroying everything in your path?"
Eragon paused for a moment, unsure how to respond. Just then, a loud thud sounded, and the ground shook somewhat beneath them. Smiling, Eragon craned his head upward, to see Saphira's massive head reaching down into the room through the atrium's skylight, her deep blue eyes staring concernedly at the both of them.
"She does" he said with a small grin. "She keeps me sane, and I her. Bonds, Roran, they are what tie us all together. Find something, hold fast to it, and I assure you it will hold you to the mark."
"I will take your advice, Eragon. I think I know my something to hold onto." Roran replied.
"Aye, I think I do too." Eragon gently remarked.
"Come," his cousin said, getting to his feet with a groan. "We yet have a city to conquer."
With the very public death of Lord Halstead and his daughter, Galiana, whom Eragon had learned was the man and young girl Saphira had torched, Aroughs had surrendered quickly. Eragon, Roran, and the Varden had marched, house to house, building to building, clearing out the entire city of resistance. Late in the day, some of Aroughs' soldiers had rallied under one of the commanders, attempting to storm the lord's castle. The sight of Saphira very contentedly perched atop the inner walls had stopped them dead in their tracks. That and the Empire's forces being decimated due to Saphira and Eragon's handiwork made those remaining all the more accepting, albeit begrudgingly, of the takeover. The Varden, though suffering heavy losses in the central keep, more than outnumbered those few who remained. By nightfall, the city was under control, albeit quite delicately.
That night, the two sat in Lord Halstead's office. Papers and various valuable objects lay strewn haphazard around the room, a sign of the lord's ultimately failed attempt to flee. Roran himself sat in Lord Halstead's chair, a high backed, heavy oaken thing ornamented with gold leaf in stylized patterns. One hand supported his head, whilst the other idly spun a golden, jewel encrusted goblet round and round. Eragon sat in a small stool he had found, having dragged it into the chamber. Both men stared at a large mirror in the corner of the room. Saphira rested just outside, her face peering into the room.
After what seemed like hours, Roran finally spoke up.
"Just do the scrying thing already. We have waited long enough, and this day has been plenty long enough" he groaned.
"She said that she would contact us on the end of the third day. Give her-" Eragon replied.
Just then, the scrying mirror shifted, and Nasuada's face appeared before them. Eragon managed a small, pained smile, whereas Roran wearily nodded his head at her appearance, never looking up. The leader of the Varden's piercing eyes danced between the two, rapidly taking in their exhausted, bloody, and dirt covered forms.
"It is good to see the two of you alive and well, if...completely filthy" she wryly said.
At her jest, Roran's eyes jerked up to stare into hers, his eyes gleaming. The man seemed about to retort, but held his tongue. "Aye. This city is ours" he uttered between clamped teeth, and resumed staring at the goblet.
Nasuada appeared not to notice his demeanor, or more likely chose not to. Turning her head to Eragon, she asked "How did you manage it? Even with the addition of you two to aid Roran, I was uncertain of victory with so few."
Eragon hastily cleared his throat before conveying everything that had happened. They discussed the rather dramatic entrance of Saphira and he, the execution of Roran's plan, casualty numbers, supplies, town meetings, and fortifications, and at the end of it, Eragon very dearly wished to never speak of Aroughs again. At the end of it, Nasuada's eyebrows had grown so high, they nearly seemed to disappear into her hair. Glancing at Roran, she bent her head slightly in respect. "You have succeeded, and exceeded my expectations quite immeasurably so. Captain Roran, consider your promotion permanent, and know that the Varden is in your debt. Expect a hero's welcome on your return, for the both of you."
Roran nodded his head slightly in return. "Thank you."
"Before you return, there will need to be a commander to retain order, as well as someone from the city to represent the people. Did you have someone in mind?"
Roran spoke once more. "Captain Brigman, I think. Despite his earlier mistakes, the men follow him, and he aided us well in organizing the clearing of the city."
"Very well" Nasuada replied. "And what of the city's representative? I do not think Lord Halstead a wise choice, but perhaps one of his children, his daughter or sons."
At this, Eragon bowed his head low, and balled his hands into tight fists. Roran looked at him for a moment, before replying "Lord Halstead and his daughter perished attempting to flee on a ship. Most of his sons have fled, but we have managed to capture one, Tharos, his youngest. He is arrogant, and mourns for his sister, but I feel he will voice the people's concerns well."
Nasuada paused for a moment, thinking. "I agree" she finally replied, nodding her head, the braids and curls in her hair shaking slightly with the movement. "How did they die? From the way you phrased it, it cannot have been a gentle passing."
"Lord Halstead killed his own daughter to prevent her capture, and died when Saphira torched the ship."
Nasuada's defined eyebrows raised, and her eyes widened. "He-He slew his own child?"
"I believe the words were 'better a quick death, than suffer agonies as prisoners'"
Nasuada's eyes sharply narrowed from their prior state. "Galbatorix has been spreading disinformation amongst the Empire. He is winning the war of ideals, if not reality. He has painted the Varden as rapacious, murdering monsters hellbent on destroying every iota of his citizens' happiness." She got up, and began pacing the room. "I anticipated this," she said, "when I allowed the werecats and Urgals into our ranks. I knew he would use that against me, and all too many would see them, the dwarves, and the elves as foreign, and therefore something to fear and eradicate. I did not think that fear and hate would go quite so far as what happened today."
"Hate and fear are powerful motivators to the hateful and fearful. Bringing the other races of Alagaesia into this fight just gave them the excuse they need." Roran muttered.
Nasuada agreed with a sigh. "I assumed one war would win the other, but clearly I was mistaken. Your choice of representative will have to suffice for the moment. You will need to verify he is not under Galbatorix's control, and it would be wise to keep Carn in Aroughs to assure Tharos' thoughts are his own."
"Carn fell during the capture of the palace" Roran said, his voice hoarse.
"Ah." The woman paused. "He seemed a decent and capable man, and will be sorely missed. Spellcasters are a rare thing, and rarer still among our ranks. Still," she said. "There will need to be someone skilled in magic to remain in Aroughs long term. I will send word to Lady Alarice. She surely has someone capable."
"How goes the siege of Dras-Leona?" Eragon asked.
"Poorly. We will need your ingenuity, Roran, and your strength, Eragon and Saphira, if we are to have a hope of capturing it."
Brisingr-Fire
Agaetí Blödhren-Blood-Oath Celebration
Jierda-Break
Letta orya thorna-Stop those arrows
Gánga-Go
Istalri-fire, alternative, think smaller and more manageable
Skapa iet ódr eld hár, mar vardi iet eyreya-Make my voice louder, but guard my ears
Gedwëy ignasia-shining palm
Another chapter finished! I originally intended for Solus to make his way down to Aroughs, but after thinking things over, it would have made far more sense to send Eragon and Saphira, as that is what Nasuada had wanted to do. I tried to make the capture a bit more straightforward, as I felt it actually possible with a dragon to assist Roran. The way it was done in the books, it just seemed to go a little too perfectly. I also wanted to better flesh out certain characters and make them feel a bit more human. What better way than by giving them something to react to?