ERAGON

Arya jumped backwards, her right leg stinging as a fresh cut dyed her white leather leggings red with her own blood. Her sword quivered in her grip as she locked eyes with Durza, who pointed his own blade at her.

She was surrounded as soldiers circled her; kept her from running, and in the darkness she could see the glowing eyes of the Urgals as they watched silently from the forest that choked the road.

It was cold.

Arya's breath instantly turned to mist once it left her mouth. The lack of heat numbed her body, slowing her down.

Durza was toying with her.

He stepped forward, twirling his massive blade with one hand as he spun on the heels of ebony boots, closing the distance between them with terrific speed.

Arya charged then, her blade pointed at his exposed back as he was in mid-rotation.

But as she stabbed, his sword intercepted the blow, sending a shivering retort back to Arya.

She stepped backward, but it was too late. She had been stunned, and Durza chuckled as he took advantage of the opportunity.

He beat her blade upwards-leaving Arya's stomach unguarded.

Durza beamed with violent glee as he dragged the serrated tip of his weapon across her torso.

Arya's blood trailed from rent flesh, twinkling in the light of the moon like red wine.

The Elf's enchantments throttled a weakening body for more energy to heal this new wound.

Shock caused her to momentarily freeze, only to awaken to a wicked blade cutting down on her shoulder, breaking it as she was forced to the ground.

Arya's eyes watered but she uttered no sound, despite the sting of pain that snaked itself throughout a screaming body.

She steadied her breathing as the last vestiges of the enchantment stopped the bleeding.

With that said, she was nowhere near healed.

Arya looked up to her attacker with cold eyes.

"A beautiful reception." He smiled cockily, image partially hidden by a veil of loosened hair.

Durza's eyes finally fixed on the egg. As he walked by her she could visualize him, hearing the sound of clothing rumple as he knelt down with a grunt, obtaining the blue egg with his free hand.

"I must say the King was.. quite distraught upon hearing of your theft. But to see someone of your race stoop to such lows..."

He walked past and ahead of her with pleased laugh, lifting the egg into the gaze of the moon. He was nothing but a darkened shape to her, but she saw the egg, the brilliant egg as it glowed...filled with endless power and savage beauty.

"Gaisa-dum lyfis resciala!" Arya suddenly screamed as a last pulse of desperate magical energy erupted from her.

Durza turned, bewildered, and then gasped as the egg, which was in his grip, disappeared from his hands. He looked to his empty hand, and then to Arya, his eyes filled with growing incomprehension.

"Sir...the egg...it's gone..." One of the mounted soldiers said at the edge of the makeshift dueling circle. Durza shot a look at the warrior and then looked away as the man slid from his saddle and onto the ground, dead.

Durza walked gracefully over to where Arya still knelt, blood dripping from her ears and mouth, partly from her wounds and more-so from overexertion from using such a powerful magic.

He bent himself over, thrusting his sword into the hard ground so it stood on its own.

Durza smiled at her, but Arya refused to look him in the eyes, keeping her face downcast as his breath, which smelt like fresh pine, beat against her forehead and parted her hair.

"I would appreciate your attention." He muttered, grabbing Arya's chin, forcing her to look at him. She felt too weak to resist.

Durza started pleasantly.

"I have a simple question. Where did you send it?"His face looked friendly, but underneath the mask lied a cruel and vicious monster of unimaginable power.

"I don't know." Arya whispered.

Durza raised his eyebrows in question.

"What was that?" He mocked, parting his hair with his free hand and moving his ear closer to Arya's mouth.

She spat a thick mixture of blood and saliva into his ear. Durza calmly rose to his feet.

Silence spread between them.

The inquisitor produced a napkin, dabbing at his ear, an expression of humored contempt written on his face.

"There are other ways to get the information I desire." Durza announced to his men, turning away from Arya for a moment.

"Though it is a powerful technique. And after riding hard for nearly three days on little food, I have grown...quite weak."

As Durza paced around the circle, his men suddenly stilled.

"Whom...should...I...pick...you've all been working so hard." He spoke almost remorsefully, more to himself than to anyone else. He stopped in front of one man, sizing him up.

The man shook, but kept his expression calm. Durza smiled warmly and continued.

The soldier then released a sigh that was loud enough for Arya to hear.

"Maybe we should draw straws like last time. No..That takes much too long. I'll just close my eyes and pick one of you." He said cheerfully, and then covered his eyes with his palm, and pointed at his men with his other hand.

" I'm going to spin around three times. Whoever I point to, I want you men of industry to hold him and bring him to me, understand?"

There was a scattered response from his men. Durza smirked.

"Good."

Durza spun three times, as promised, and then pointed randomly at his company. Arya watched as there was a struggle within the ranks, until two men, dressed in light leather clothing baring the colors of Galbatorix brought a third man to Durza, kicking and screaming as they did so.

Durza uncovered his eyes and regarded the weeping man. Arya felt her heart tug-he wasn't a man at all, only a boy, probably forced to fight for Galbatorix.

Durza's expression softened as he looked at the sobbing soldier before him.

"What is your name?" Durza asked genuinely. The boy, still sobbing, choked out a response.

"D-Deran Horrun S-Sir." He cried.

"How old are you Deran?" Durza asked, placing his hand on the boy's shoulder. Arya noticed some of her pursuers began to look away.

"S-sixteen.." the boy stammered, choking back tears.

Durza cocked his head.

"Sixteen?" He parroted, question in his voice.

"Sixteen summers. I've seen sixteen summers." The boy clarified.

Durza ahh'd knowingly.

The boy let out a wrenching and childlike whimper as Durza's searching hand ripped his torso open, blood splattering on his former brothers' in arms faces as they held him, stone faced.

Durza rolled his eyes in annoyance as he dug into chest and gore, until, finally,with a grunt of effort, pulled a still-beating heart free of the boy's body.

"You can drop him now. Your arms must be tired. Remember, this is the King's will, grim as it may be." Durza commended.

The men dropped the boy, corpse landing on the ground like a sack of vegetables.

Durza looked at the heart for a moment, licked his lips, and then took a bite out of it, blood squeezing out of the tough muscle from between Durza's teeth.

He threw the half eaten organ to the wood and walked over to Arya.

"I feel much better now. Well then." Durza gripped Arya's head firmly with his bloody hand. Arya felt his presence instantly in her mind, spearing her thoughts like a soldier impales an enemy. She groaned weakly from the pain as Durza ripped her mind apart. He then rose with an agitated grimace, his face written over by annoyance.

"You truly don't know where you sent it..." Durza's voice trailed off as he imagined what horrors failure would bring him. He spun away from Arya with a flourish, gathering a smoky cloak around himself.

"Take her prisoner. Search the surrounding townships. Damn it all..it could be anywhere in these peasant infested hills."

Durza looked around at his men as they looked at him.

"What are you waiting for? Go!" He screamed. At once they all began moving, and Arya felt herself being lifted by strong hands.

"Bring her to Gil'ead. I need to send word to our King. I will leave half of the company to you, second in command." Durza said as he pointed at an armored man sitting atop a horse. The man nodded, his armor creaking slightly.

"Galbatorix may be kind. He may be forgiving . . . but this egg is a different matter. for him, it is very personal. I have learned not to interfere with personal things." Durza whispered, and as Arya faded into the blackness, she grinned within her mind.

There was a twinge of fear in Durza's voice.