ELDEST VIII

When Orrin spoke to hardened soldiers and decorated veterans, they told him of the glory found in battle. They told of the excitement, the skill, and the intensity. They said battle was the greatest way for a man to prove himself. But what they did not tell Orrin of was the blood.

The canals of Aroughs were red snakes that coiled around burning homes while bodies were flung into the water below. Above them, trebuchet-propelled stones crashed into the tall castle that belonged to the Lord of Aroughs, his the number of his flags waning as they were torn billowing from metal spikes. Screams filled the air, men fighting and dying at equal intervals, with the smell of excrement and piss and all of the panoply of bloodshed sticking to Orrin's regal dressings like a second skin. He had fought bravely against the Urgals in Farthen Dur- but this was different.

Here, he fought humans.

A man came rushing at him, spear in hand as he stepped over fallen bodies. Orrin raised his shield, absorbing the jabbing blow and turning the spear aside. He lifted his blade and struck it across the neck of his attacker, who let out a childish cry as his upper face was suddenly soaked in his own blood. Orrin faltered as he watched the boy writhe away from Orrin's blade, holding his partially severed neck until he died in a series of convulsions.

This was war.

"Sir, the districts are all under our control. All that is left is the fort of Lord Yaneesh."

Orrin turned, weary eyed, to find Lord Ghuion standing beside him. The High-Surdan had blood up to his elbows, while a curved blade waited in his red hands. Blonde hair fell over eyes that were dulled to the sight of death. Orrin's pupils lingered on the body of the boy he had just killed, before his heart hardened.

"Keep up the assault. Lord Yaneesh chooses to hold himself up in his fort, instead of dying amongst his people." Orrin ordered, and Lord Ghuion nodded, jogging off to follow Orrin's command. Orrin himself walked ahead on the wooden paths that presided over swampy water drenched in bodies and blood. Clamor rang in the air, an unholy bedlam of death a constant in Orrin's ears. His royal guard tailed behind him, trained men dressed in High Surdan fashion, wearing iron helms wrapped in golden turbans, while their bodies were covered with scaled iron hauberks and leggings. They held pronged spears, ready to defend Orrin at any threat.

"Let's go." Orrin whispered as he kicked his feet to the wood below him. He ran ahead, following the angular trail of the boardwalks. On both sides the stilted homes of the Aroughsmen were engulfed in flame, some of them collapsing in the murky swamp that they had lived above for countless generations. Orrin held his sword high as they came across a group of Imperial soldiers. They stood on a square block of boarded wood, of which in the center a large weeping swamptree was allowed to grow, pink flowers sprouting from sagging branches. The Imperials shouted as they charged into Orrin's group, and his guards returned the yawp. The King of Men jabbed his sword forward, catching a man by the neck. The man gulped as red blood drained through his closed mouth while he fell. Orrin jumped backwards as he pulled his sword away, royal guards taking up the space he left open. The sound of war was real to his ears now as screams filled them. Screams of humans. Humans who had dreams, loves, desires. A sickening feeling caught his stomach while he hacked away at a man who had tried to impale him with a long spear. Orrin killed the man with a quick cut along the Imperial's bowels, and then sent him into the swamp below, intestines trailing after him, landing in the muck with a thick slop.

With that, the Imperials were defeated. All around, fighting seemed to cease, and silence threatened to overtake the once-peaceful city. Suddenly, a large horn bellowed as a white flag was lifted above the spires found within Lord Yaneesh's court. As if on call, Lord Ghuion came, jumping roof to roof until finally he landed on the square that Orrin and his men stood on.

"What does it mean?" Orrin inquired as Ghuion caught his breath.

"They wish to speak with you. It would be ill done for you to kill any Aroughsmen while that flag still waves." Ghuion counseled.

Orrin looked at the bodies that piled in the stagnated waters below them.

"I do not believe there are many Aroughsmen left."

"I concur, My Grace. If you would give me the pleasure, please allow me to escort you to Lord Yaneesh." Ghuion asked with a bow. Orrin waved his hand, giving him his permission. Ghuion instantly walked ahead of them, while Orrin and his guards followed. They marched through defeated streets covered in bodies, across long stretches of raised wooden pathways that were flanked by flames. This was the work of Orrin's army.

Finally, the came to a thick stone plateau, of which a portcullis was already drawn down, giving them access to the modest castle ahead of them. Ghuion led them across, as Orrin spied tired archers on battlements that had not been destroyed by Orrin's trebuchets.

They passed over the shadow of the gate, and were now inside Yaneesh's main courtyard.

"I hear you are called Orrin." A neutral voice said as it stepped from shadow. Orrin saw a weathered middle-aged man with sun-browned skin, pale blue eyes, and dark blonde hair. A wispy yellow beard hugged his square chin, while a dark brown cloak hugged slim shoulders. Beside him, a beautiful but withdrawn woman stood, similarly colored, wearing a purple gown. At her side, a young man of perhaps fifteen years stood, with light brown locks and bright blue eyes.

"Your armies have taken us by surprise. We had been warned by Galbatorix, but we did not heed them. We believed our walls would keep us safe. But it seems our brethren, with whom we have shared meat and mead, decided to betray us." Lord Yaneesh eyed Ghuion.

"What did you want to speak of, Lord?" Orrin questioned. Yaneesh turned his head, looking at his wife and his son.

"A trial by battle. If I win, you will be executed by my own hand, and your armies will withdraw from Aroughs. If you win, I will die, and my son shall become the new Lord of Aroughs under your banner."

"Orrin, let me fight this man for you." Ghuion whispered. Orrin simply shook his head, and stepped forward, sword ready, shield raised.

"I accept your challenge. And your terms."

Yaneesh flew at Orrin with trained speed as his cloak fell from his shoulders. Two curved swords danced in his deft hands, catching Orrin completely off-guard. Orrin blocked one blade with his shield, only to twist in order to defend his leg from a glancing slice. Yaneesh jumped backwards, flourished his blades, and attacked again. Orrin hid behind his shield as Yaneesh battered down Orrin's defense. Orrin ducked as a blade whizzed over his head, and struck at Yaneesh's heel with the point of his sword. Yaneesh jumped over Orrin, cutting both of his shoulders in the process, landing behind him without a second thought.

Orrin gasped in pain as he dropped his shield, turning at the last moment to see two blades coming for his neck. He jerked his head backwards, the lone point of Yaneesh's blade trailing a superficial cut across Orrin's clavicle. Orrin hissed as he felt blood rise from his wounds, and then heard them drip onto the ground below. He waved his sword before his face as Yaneesh circled, blue eyes focused on the vision of Orrin's demise.

He's better than me. Orrin thought with grim humor. Yaneesh was possibly the best swordsman Orrin had ever faced . . . No.

There was another.

Murtagh.

Murtagh conserved his energy. He defended and then attacked when it seemed unlikely. He ignored feints and struck only when he knew his sword would cut true.

Orrin saw Murtagh on his own body as Yaneesh attacked again. Orrin now fought defensively, blocking the blows of Yaneesh's dual blades. Orrin then struck and swiveled a blade out from Yaneesh's loose grip, while the man gasped in surprise. Hurried, Yaneesh rushed at Orrin as his back was turned . . . .

Orrin saw Murtagh then, saw him perform that strange Beyonder strike where one spins on the ground, flourishing their blade like a savage . . .

Orrin spun on his heels as Yaneesh's blade harmlessly went past him. He raised his sword arm as he turned into Yaneesh's chest. Inches away from the man, he plunged his blade into Yaneesh's shoulder, stepping away and falling to the ground. Yaneesh dropped his remaining sword as he stumbled about the main courtyard, until finally he fell over, dying a warriors death. As Orrin rose to his feet, Yaneesh's wife let out a blood curdling scream as the new lord of Aroughs regarded Orrin with blank eyes.

"What is your name?" Orrin called out across the yard.

"Sanjaat." The boy answered.

Orrin bowed his head as he felt the effects of blood loss.

"Welcome to the Varden." He gasped as pain flared across his body, while the flags of Galbatorix were lowered from atop the ruined castle.

Aroughs was now a part of Orrin's usurping Kingdom, a pure continuation of the Langfeld line, and the true successor to the name of Broddring.