When the barrier fell, Arya did not feel fear. She did not hear the screams of the horrors that rushed towards her waiting army. She did not see the leathery wings of the letherbalka as they rode wicked winds, beak-like mouths agape and dripping with blood. Her mind was only focused on one thing-
Victory.
Arya's green eyes shot open, hand at the hilt of her blade. Beside her, General Vulan Kurysenith stood, tall and shining despite the grim reality that surrounded them. Behind her stood the massed legions of all of the elven military, assisted by Prince Orik's elite dwarib troops. The prince was to Arya's left, his eyes fixated on the writhing mass that rolled over the green hills of Gillendel.
"They plan to attack us directly?" Vulan said incredulously.
Just as I thought. They plan to overwhelm us with numbers, not strategy.
"Have the bowmen ready their arrows," Arya commanded. Vulan turned and parroted the order to his subordinate, who played a bellowing note on his warhorn that stretched across the wide valley. Arya's ears twitched as the notching of thousands of arrows could be heard.
The sealed continued their wayward advance. They did not march in unison- devoid of organization, they hurtled over the billowing and tall grass in a reckless mob. Above them, the Letherbalka seemed to be holding back somewhat, not advancing with the main force.
Is this part of their plan?
Arya brushed aside her unease as she turned to Vulan, eyes hardened for war.
"Fire," She ordered. The warhorn trumpeted her command with an almost manic glee. Slivers of black shadows passed over her face, hissing in the air as feathered tips flew faster than any hawk, and dived with brutal accuracy. The Sealed crumbled under the attack, screaming while Arya's arrows punctured lungs and maimed limbs.
But they continued.
"Again," Arya ordered.
The horn sounded, and within seconds a savage assault was unleashed into the air. Arya watched as the arrows descended upon the sealed army once more. Their screams filled her ears, but she stood resolute, stone-faced and unfaltering.
"They're still advancing," Prince Orik said with a tinge of amusement. Arya wordlessly curled her fingers around the hilt of her sword. She became aware of the crown that sat atop her head, the lives that depended on her strength and leadership. She raised her eyes to the grasping and bloody mass that screeched and howled as they ripped apart the earth with their frantic movement, chaotic by nature alone.
Arya raised unsheathed her blade and raised it above her head as trumpets sounded from each regiment under her command.
I am Queen.
She charged.
Elves used horses for convenience or leisure, but in reality, a horse would only slow them down. That fact was made readily apparent as the two castes of elves clashed together in an unholy unison. Arya ducked and weaved and stabbed and bellowed as sealed elves fell before her. Silver-armored Laen Elves battered against rusted iron shields and slabs of wood that the sealed used to defend themselves, who were unafraid of their better-armed cousins. Dust rose from the grass and the shifting legs that crumpled them underfoot. Blood began to kiss the air and soak the earth as bodies fell, dead or dying.
I am Queen.
Arya slashed her blade straight ahead, both hands gripping the hilt while the edge bisected a sealed elf that foolishly advanced to challenge her. She slid her weapon from the bleeding corpse, cleansing it of blood with a flourish that ended at the neck of another enemy. She whipped the tip of her weapon across the sealed elf's throat, the point of her blade finding its home between the feeble defense of sealed's crossed axes.
The new queen danced through the battlefield, her sword becoming an extension of herself. Blood painted her regal armor in a thick carmine slime that seemed to spread across her body more and more as she moved. Arya fought like a hero of legend, and her relentless power began to cause the sealed elves to falter on their offensive. Gradually they disengaged from the melee, and her warriors made quick work of the stragglers.
Arya stood, chest heaving, among a mountain of corpses. Her eyes narrowed as the remaining sealed elves scurried back to hide underneath the circling shadows of the Letherbalka above. The cries of the Sealed died down, and an eerie quiet settled upon the gory landscape.
Arya heard Vulan approach before he spoke to her.
"It isn't over." She said without turning. Light plops were heard as Vulan's boots splashed in puddles of blood.
"The Sealed have drawn their forces beyond the forests of Gillendel." Vulan reported.
"There's no telling when they will attack again. Have the army regroup with the main body." Arya directed as she sheathed her blade.
Unease followed her as she accompanied her men to the main command center- a hastily constructed series of tents that surrounded Gillendel. Hundreds of thousands of laen elven soldiers quietly spoke amongst themselves around calming fires that littered the land like burning stars glowing from darkened skies.
Vulan escorted her to the Auresama tent, where Arya knew her mother, Oromis, Orik, and her other generals waited. She inhaled deeply as two elven guards uncrossed their spears. The Queen of Elves entered with Vulan in tow.
"Queen Arya," Oromis said. Her uncle placed a hand over his heart, and bowed his head deeply, locks of his hair touching the map that was stretched over a table before him and the others. His obeisance was mirrored by the others- even Islanzadi.
"My regiments engaged with the Sealed. It seems their attack was nothing more than a test." Arya began, leaping straight into the issue. Islanzadi nodded in agreement.
"Legions XII and IV under my command also engaged with Sealed on the north and northeast plains," Islanzadi dragged her finger across the map as she spoke.
"Across all legions the Sealed seem to have launched this same style of attack," Islanzadi said as she lifted a thin finger from the map, and folded her arms at the base of her back.
"What could they be doing?" Prince Orik questioned.
"Possibly testing our battle readiness, and our strength." Oromis offered in response.
"It doesn't matter." Arya said softly. Oromis' narrowed his eyes sharply at her response, but remained silent, waiting for her to finish.
Arya stepped closer to the table, placing both hands on each corner of the map.
"We cannot focus on what they are doing, or why. If we allow ourselves to get caught up in conjecture, we will lose ourselves in the mire of inaction and disorganization. We can only do what we must- and that is to move forward." Arya said matter-of-factly.
She rose herself from the table and turned to leave the tent.
"Get some rest. There will no doubt be more tomorrow." Arya said to them all before leaving them to the night.
MORZAN scoffed, eyes closed and arms crossed as he leaned on the thick trunk of a towering tree. Still wearing his visage, he had the appearance of an old woman with scarred wrists and a heavily wrinkled, albeit handsome face.
"What is it?"
Morzan's eyes creaked open to the sound of Murtagh's hissing whisper. Beside him knelt Hagganthil, or, to Morzan's chagrin, Roran. Behind them both Thorn was curled into a ball, sleeping carelessly in his humanoid form, red hair flowing from his head and down the length of his back.
"You were right. They decided to hold Eragon back from the battle." Morzan said flatly.
"Then that means-" Murtagh glanced wearily to Hagganthil.
"I believe it is time you returned to the Varden, Hagganthil." Morzan outstretched his hand to the young man.
"Can we trust him to open the way for us?" Murtagh asked.
"I have made the proper preparations. His mind will stay under my control. But several degrees of freedom will be required in order for the elves to receive him. Once within their ranks, he will lead us to Eragon." Morzan began removing the wards that held Hagganthil's mind, like bandages coming off of a scarred over wound.
"And Alauinel?" Murtagh broached softly.
"On her way, as expected." Morzan answered.
"Even in her state she will kill them all." Murtagh advised.
"A necessary sacrifice." Morzan retorted.
Murtagh's face hardened in anger.
"So you'll let those who could help us defeat this Dark God die?"
"Eragon is the only piece we need. Once we have him, we will have our victory. I care not about the Varden, or the Elves. Their pride wouldn't allow any sort of cooperation regardless." Morzan answered as he lowered his hand. Hagganthil shakily stood, and made a handful of halting steps forward.
"You stay here. Murtaghen and I will ensure Hagganthil reaches the Elves."
"I'm sick of waiting," Murtagh grumbled as Hagganthil stepped into the darkness of night, while Morzan shifted into the shadows of the trees above, watching from afar.