And so here is the Battle of the Burning Plains (with a few mixture of CP's original battle thought not as much). With this chapter it marks the end of Eldest and the halfway mark through my Inheritance Rewrite and I'm very much excited to reach the end of this story. It's odd, when I started this rewrite I wanted to keep it as close as I could to the original plot but just with some differances. But when I read it, it's totally different. I must say that I'm impressed with myself. Anyways, enjoy reading everyone consider this as a New Years Gift.

The first horizontal rays of dawn already streaked across the land when Trianna said to Eragon. It is time. He and Arya shared one last look and kiss before they clambered onto their saddles. Saphira moved forward, her movement causing loud thuds in the ground as she walked towards the front lines like they'd planned. Nasuada was against the idea at first but she had eventually consented when the Varden needed to see a strong showing of their rider to gain to moral to keep fighting.

It didn't take long for them to reach the opening that was cleared during the night. The Varden poured through the gap, quiet as they could be. Rank upon rank of warriors marched past and to Eragon's pleasant surprise, Bard led the first battalion which consisted of recent warriors from the Empire. Their shoulders were set and face determined. It impressed him to see them so calm and collected especially with the prospect of facing their old comrades in battle. On top of Saphira, he could see Nasuada on her roan charger surrounded by a group of people that consisted of Arya and Murtagh as well as Thorn and Eridor, Trianna, and his three other servants. They each acknowledged each other with quick glances.

During the night, the vapors of the Burning Plains had accumulated low to the ground allowing the Varden to cross three quarters of no-man's-land before they were seen by the Empire's sentries. As alarm horns rang out before them, Nasuada shouted, "Now, Eragon! Tell Orrin to strike. To me, men of the Varden! Fight to win back your homes. Fight to guard your wives and children! Fight to overthrow Galbatorix! Attack and bather your blades in the blood of our enemies! Charge!" She spurred her horse forward and with a great bellow, the men followed, shaking their weapons above their heads.

Doing as she'd ordered, Eragon conveyed Nasuada's orders to Barden, the spell caster who rode with King Orrin. A moment later, he heard the drumming of hooves as Orrin and his cavalry—accompanied by the rest of the Kull, who could run as fast as horses—galloped out of the east. They charged into the Empire's flank, pinning the soldiers against the Jiet River and distracting them long enough for the Varden to cross the remainder of the distance between them without opposition.

The two armies collided with a deafening roar. And through the harsh shouts and clashes of swords against shields, a feeling of exhilarating freedom overwhelmed him. There was a freedom in battle that couldn't be found anywhere else. Almost immediately he felt his ward drawing upon his strength as they deflected attacks from Saphira, Arya, and Nasuada.

He frowned as he glanced at the overwhelming mass of the Empire's army. There must be a great deal of magicians in their ranks. Trianna, he sent his thoughts to the sorceress. I will be busy fighting but once you find the mind of a magician alert me and I shall dispatch them.

Yes, Shadeslayer.

Bringing forth his bow and arrow bestowed upon him by Queen Islanzadi, Eragon notched an arrow and aimed it for the catapults that were stationed throughout the Empire's army. Narrowing his eyes, he let it forth with a murmur of the word: brisingr. He smiled satisfied that his arrow managed to pierce the wood of the catapult, causing it to ignite in flames like a bonfire. So Durza's dark magic was useful in some terms, Eragon thought. Ridding the Empire of these catapults would greatly staunch their efforts in fending off the Varden's masses.

Du Vrangr Gata found the first enemy spellcasters. The instant he was alerted Eragon reached out to the woman who made the discovery and with the immense power of his own mind he easily slew the magician in a grand display of theatrics also killing the company of soldiers he protected. A knot in the Empire's army fell to the ground to the cheers of the Varden. That would surely bring fear to the rest of the Empire's magicians.

The fighting went well from where he sat atop Saphira. As she bathed their enemies on the ground in her torrents of flames, he showered them with arrows from above. Slightly behind him, Murtagh was trying to dispatch the rest of the catapults that were now being manned and releasing blocks of ceramic balls and liquid fires. Arya and Eridor were terrifying in their own right as they dispatched every enemy soldier they came across with ease and grace. As Eragon fought he felt a hint of pride color his emotions. He was far from worrying about Arya. Notching another arrow, he sent it flying to one the few catapults that remained watching as it caught firing collapsing in on itself as it fell on a group of soldiers that surrounded it.

After another hour of fighting atop Saphira and overwhelming magician after magician, Eragon let out a curse. He was doing no good sitting atop Saphira and merely shooting arrows at his enemies. With ease, he dismounted and positioned himself near her right paw. Enough of this, let us show them what it truly means to fear a dragon and her rider.

Saphira roared in response causing the enemies before her to falter in instinctive fear. She crouched low on the ground here sapphire eyes glittering. Drawing out both of his blades, he bent his knees ready to launch forward in any moment's notice. Yes, let us, little one.

Ready? Her answer to his question was to lurch forward her jaws opening as torrents of flames erupted from her maw, burning alive the soldiers before her. Letting their consciousness merge into one mine and one identity, the two of them charged the front lines of the Empire's army. It was amazing the ease in which they fought. Ignoring the cries of terror and the expression of betrayal on the soldiers' faces as they recognized that Eragon was truly Gabranth, the rider whom they'd served under, he slew the soldiers in his way. Blades dancing in his hands, he cut one soldier after the other down, while Saphira with her claws and jaws snapped and stomped on the other enemies. And they carried this out so until a berth of space was given to them, for their enemies feared the death they would bring them.

Behind him, he heard the Varden's cheers as they also swarmed forward. He had no trouble in eliminating those before him but he could tell that Murtagh was having a much more difficult time. It must be hard for him to fight against his own race. But Eragon had long but abandoned that hardship during his time under Galbatorix. Arya and Eridor had remained with the front line of the Varden to prevent any of the Empire's soldiers to break through their ranks. Bard with his strategic planning had maneuvered his battalion into a position so that the Empire's only choice was to retreat. And from the midst of the Varden he saw Nasuada well and on her charger, her blade coated with gore and blood as she shouted heartening words to her subjects. Beside her were Rosalie and Desdemona, who protected her with sword, shield, and magic. Finny being inhumanly strong had grabbed the stakes from where they were in the trenches guarding the Varden's leading lines and launching it at the Empire taking down scores of men one after the other. It was a heartening sight to see that they weren't in clear defeat and that the Empire was retreating with every advance the Varden made on it leaving in their wake, hundreds of their fallen comrades.

Eragon slashed down another foe in his way. Though they may be effective in pushing the Empire's army into a slow retreat, they refused to give way. And soldier after soldier took the position of another. And when another died, one more would take his place. Du Vrangr Gata was doing well on seeking out Galbatorix's magicians until a good number of them were dead, leaving their soldiers unprotected. Knowing that, Eragon had reached for magic to fight the soldiers before him using the twelve words for death. And they fell before him like leaves in the summer breeze. He glanced towards his side to see Murtagh and Thorn, behind him, he could feel Arya and Eridor. Reaching with his mind towards them, he was glad that they recognized him, it would distract him for a moment if they were to attack his mind in fear it was an enemy magician. What is it, Eragon? Murtagh questioned as he dodged a mace to his head.

Yes, what indeed? Arya agreed.

How do you feel about joining Saphira and I? His question caught them off guard but they eventually understood what he was asking. A few moments later, Thorn appeared on Saphira's right flank with Murtagh, Orik, and his guards centered about him. Then Arya and Eridor joined Saphira's left flank. They were all smeared and mattered with gore and blood, whether it was theirs or their enemies, he couldn't tell. Before them, Galbatorix's soldiers wavered at the sight of the line that the three dragons formed. Saphira…

She opened her maws, Thorn and Eridor following suit, and breathed flames onto the Empire's army. If it wasn't for the fact that they were surrounded by battle and death, he would have called it beautiful. Jets of emerald, sapphire, and ruby flames burst forward, burning their enemies alive. Once done, Eragon nodded to Murtagh and Arya. Then they charged their dragons behind them. Eragon had often fought with Arya but to fight with her and Murtagh by his side was different. While he weaved between Arya's dance of death, he often assisted in Murtagh's charge in slewing their opponents. The three of them were too much for the Empire and soldiers after soldiers scrambled backwards away from them knowing that to face them was to face death. As Arya danced by with Tamerlein in hand, drenched with blood she smiled at him fierce and joyous not showing her exhaustion. He returned it in kind knowing the emotions that she felt. And onward they forged, the three of them in their ferocious charge.

And the sun began its descent toward evening.

As they prepared themselves to continue their assault, a trumpet sounded in the east, loud and clear, and King Orrin shouted, "The dwarves are here! The dwarves are here!"

Dwarves? Eragon blinked and glanced around as did Arya and Murtagh but the only ones around them were soldiers, friends and enemies alike. Then it registered to him. King Hrothgar and his army had finally arrived to aid them. Murtagh had climbed onto Thorn to look out to the east, then he shouted with renewed vigor, Thorn's roars echoing louder than his. "Take heart! King Hrothgar is here! And it looks like every single dwarf is behind him! We'll crush the Empire!" the men roared. "Now take your swords and remind these flea-bitten cowards why they should fear us. Charge!"

Just as they charged again, Eragon heard a second shout, this one from the west, "A ship! A ship is coming up the Jiet River!"

He frowned, a ship? Thorn and I shall attend to it, Eragon. He nodded and the two of them took off, veering west towards the Jiet River to deal with the upcoming ship. He turned to Arya, helping her to kill the seven soldiers before her.

Would you like to dance with me?

Her thoughts flowed through his own mind, filled with adrenaline and a very small tint of amusement. Can you keep up?

He grinned, taking his position beside her. I could dance all day. With that they ran forward, Eragon in the lead. As he brought his sword down on one enemy, he would move his feet to allow Arya to twist about him and in a flurry of grace and elegance dispatch oncoming soldiers. It was a dance of death. Though Eragon didn't think of himself as an elegant dancer, when it came to a blade however, he outdid even the most trained swordsman. As he watched Arya fight, he paused for a moment to admire her speed and grace. Her hair twirled about her, her eyes slanted in concentration, and her body movements fluid and graceful. And for a moment he didn't think he would mind dying by her sword.

If you don't pay attention, you'll die by another's sword, said Saphira. He dodged a blow to his head and shrugged when Arya's questioning expression met his. She would no doubt be mad about the fact that he was distracted by her appearance in battle. Once this was all over, he was going to embrace her for the longest time in his life, glad that she nor Saphira was his enemy. That's very sweet of you.

Eragon, it was Murtagh, Do not attack the ship; it doesn't belong to the Empire. It's come to our aid. Spread the word to Trianna and the others for me, will you?

I shall, though he was curious as to who was on that ship, Eragon contacted Trianna to tell her to leave the ship and she in turn relayed the message to Nasuada. Blocking a swipe to his gut, he easily severed his opponent's head and in a crude display, kicked it at the soldiers before him knocking three to the ground. Arya's expression was one of disdain but she didn't voice her opinion on it as she brought Tamerlein upward in an arch, slashing a soldier straight up from groin to head. If that wasn't a painful death, he didn't know what was.

With the help of the dwarves, the tide of battle which was already tilted in the Varden's favor became even more so. Together they pushed back the Empire, dividing them, crushing them, and forcing Galbatorix's vast army into submission. Their efforts were also helped by some of Angela's poisons that had taken effect during the battle. Many of the Empire's officers behaved irrationally which caused confusion in their ranks allowing the Varden to easily dispatch of them. The soldiers seem to realize that they no longer had a chance of winning, for hundreds surrendered, or defected outright and turned on their former comrades, or threw down their weapons and fled.

And the day passed into the late afternoon.

Eragon was in the midst of fighting two soldiers when a flaming javelin roared past overhead and buried itself in one the Empire's command tents twenty yards, away setting it ablaze. He frowned killing the two soldiers before glancing back at the source of the missile. It came from the ship banked on the Jiet River and soon, a dozen more followed. What are they playing at?

Soon afterward, a horn echoed from the read of the Empire's army, then another and another. Someone began to pound a sonorous drum, the peals of which stilled the field as everyone looked around for the source of the beat. He glanced overhead, a strange sensation coming to life in his heart. An ominous figure detached itself from the sky like a barbed black shadow. The tugging in his heart became stronger and his right eye burned. Not now! Then a ray of light escaped the cloud and struck the figure crossways from the west.

It was a hideous beast. With the form of a dragon, the monster floated above them its skin, or scale, soot black. His wing membrane was thin and ebony, his underbelly was not like Saphira's or any of the dragons but thin as if malnourished, the skin clinging to its rib cage. It bore long fangs for teeth, spaced unevenly about its mouth, some overlapping the other. In his charcoal eyes, gleamed a terrible thirst for blood. What on earth is that thing?

An imitation of a dragon, Saphira answered sniffing the air above them. Can you sense it? The Eldunari holding that abomination together? He reached out with his mind and indeed he could, lodged deep within the beast's chest was the power of an Eldunari, an old one that was fueling the creature with energy.

What is it made of?

Rotting flesh.

His face scrunched up in disgust. Never had he thought that Galbatorix would resort to such foul tricks. It was revolting. If we can kill it then we can save that Eldunari, said Eragon. He felt her consent and was about to climb onto her until he caught sight of a dark saddle strapped onto the beast. In it sat a man garbed in polished steel armor and in his hand he wielded and colorless blade

He too has the power of the Eldunari with him, though younger, Eragon frowned watching as the man lifted his hand and a ball of sapphire light gathered in his open palm. His heart pounded in his chest as he felt his soul reach out for the energy. It couldn't be! The sapphire ball of energy sprang from his hand and smote King Hrothgar on the breast, killing the dwarf king. Eragon grunted going to one knee as he felt his heart pound erratically in his chest.

Eragon! Saphira roared, swiping at soldiers who had seen his moment of weakness and were running forward to charge him. What is wrong?

My soul—I don't—he grunted as he heard the dwarves' cries of anger and sorrow, Thorn's roars added to the grief. "Eragon Shadeslayer," a mocking voice boomed out over the Burning Plains. "Traitor to your king, Empire, and people! Come and face me if you dare! Let Jeremiah Asburg teach you the true meaning of treason!

Jeremiah Asburg? He remembered the man next to Barst. A proud commander, devoted to Galbatorix, someone who would rather cut off both of his hands before upsetting the king. So this is who he sent to face Eragon. Shaking off the constricting feeling in his chest, he climbed onto Saphira. Fly, Saphira.

Eragon—

I'll be alright; she hesitated for another moment before unfurling her wings and pushing off from the ground, gaining leverage and altitude. Making sure to protect his mind against Jeremiah and the countless hearts that he must be carrying, Eragon sheathed one of his blades as he readied the other. Jeremiah was a young man; he had a hard face and strong jaw, his aura one of pure authority. But as they stared at one another in the air, Eragon felt slightly sick when he smelt the rotting flesh of the beast that he rode. Disgusting.

The two beasts collided, Saphira being the bigger of the two but the black beast that he rode powered by the Eldunari was the stronger one for it batted her away with ease. She didn't abate in her attacks but charged again, this time using her hind legs and jaws to injury the beast. Eragon frowned when he saw chunks of rotting flesh fall to the battle field below, the beast seemingly immune to the injuries it was receiving. Through their connection Eragon could feel Saphira's distaste having to tear away at rotting flesh.

He turned to Jeremiah, he couldn't fight him with his mind, it would be too dangerous. And crossing swords while Saphira was locked in battle could hurt her. "You look much like an elf than a monster, Eragon, or should I say Gabranth?" Jeremiah called out to him, his voice deep and filled with vengeance.

"I'd prefer it if you call me Eragon." He said amidst the snarls of the Saphira and the beast. "Has Galbatorix become desperate enough to turn to false imitations such as this?"

"His majesty has decided that he'd let you and the rest of the riders spend too much time out of the Empire. He wishes to see that you return to Uru'baen," said Jeremiah with a sneer.

Eragon raised a brow, unmoved, "And what if I don't?"

"Thrysta!" He grunted as a ball of sapphire hit him square in the chest and that was when he felt it again, the familiar sensation as if he was connected to the magic. He had no doubt about it anymore; Jeremiah had half of his soul. Falling from his saddle, he tried to keep from rotating not frightened that he could possibly be falling to his death. If Jeremiah had half of his soul, would he be powerless in fighting a part of him? Would it even work like that?

Before he could think anymore on it, a hand gripped his catching him from falling to a fatal landing on the Burning Plains. He glanced up to find Arya staring down at him, riding atop Eridor. He gave her a grateful look, she nodded.

I'm underneath you, Eragon, below him, he saw Saphira waiting, suspended in air for him to return to his saddle. Releasing Arya's hand, he landed perfectly in the saddle.

We must land Saphira; it's too dangerous to fight Jeremiah like this. She consented and descended to the nearest flat open area, a small stone plateau set along the western edge of the Jiet River. The water had turned red from the blood pouring into the river. Dismounting Saphira, he turned in time to see Jeremiah jumping from the foul beast that he rode.

They didn't give each other a moment more and charged blade in hand. Fighting Jeremiah was more difficult than he had thought. With the Eldunari on his side, he could withstand most of Eragon's attacks though he couldn't compete with the speed Eragon possessed. Moving forward, he cut the man on his face watching as blood oozed out from the cut. Jeremiah swung at him, retreating he grunted when the tip of his blade managed to get past his wards and knick his armor. Wards were ineffective against him it seemed.

"You can't win against me, Jeremiah," said Eragon as he took a defensive position. "I will always be the better of us."

"That may be so, but let me test your theory," when the ball of sapphire energy flew towards him, he dodged ignoring the rapid beating of his heart as it recognized that the energy belonged to its other half. His right eye burned. Taking advantage of his temporary blindness, another ball of energy hit him sending him flying to the ground.

He felt anger wash over him fierce and uncontrolled at the thought of Jeremiah using his soul to fight him. Rushing forward he brought his blade up and they met clash for clash until Jeremiah shouted a harsh word. As Eragon stood there struggling with one of his blades to unbalance the man, the point in which metal met metal glowed brightly until to his dismay his sword snapped under the pressure and the force of it unbalanced him allowing Jeremiah to send him to the ground with a kick. His broken sword flying out of his hand he scowled, finally angered to the point it made him want to rip the man's heart out. First his soul and now his sword…

Then do it, Eragon. He froze where he lay on the ground when he heard his shadow's voice swim through his mind. He'd forgotten what he sounded like. I can help you teach him a lesson if you let me.

He hesitated. It would be too dangerous to trust in the words of the spirit.

It will be very easy if you use my magic to defeat him, with the seal over you right eye, how much harm can it be? Eragon thought for a moment to himself. He couldn't overcome Jeremiah's magic and if he wanted to survive…A laugh echoed through his mind as his shadow laughed at his acceptance. Immediately, he felt wave after wave of energy pulse through him and Saphira.

Getting to his feet, he rolled his neck from side to side trying to remove the kink he had from landing rather badly. A feeling of blood thirst washed over him followed by the desire to sink his sword into flesh. Letting a laugh escape his body, he faced Jeremiah. "How dare you use my soul against me, you filthy human," Eragon raised his hand watching as a shaft of crackling violet energy spring forth. It smote Jeremiah on the shoulder causing him to hollow in pain. He walked forward, sword in hand, feeling pleased at the sound of his pain. "You'll pay in blood for your folly."

Raising his sword, he brought it down severing Jeremiah's right arm from elbow to hand, a fountain of blood spraying him. He laughed unable to control the feelings that passed through him from his shadow. Below him, Jeremiah was pale as he raised his left hand and yelled something.

Blinded, Eragon stumbled backwards. When he regained his bearings he glanced up to find Jeremiah and his beast flying off towards the direction of Uru'baen specks of blood raining down on him. He cursed should we chase them?

No, I'm tired and you are not in your right mind, Eragon. He nodded and with some difficulty, suppressed the spirit in him. It took a while but he managed but the seal in his right eye didn't feel like it used to. When he was done he stared at where Jeremiah had left feeling loneliness wash over him. His soul was in his reach and yet, he couldn't take it back…

The battle was over from what Eragon saw as he stood on the plateau overlooking the Burning Plains. The Varden had won the battle despite the overwhelming numbers that they'd faced. He sighed, taking in a deep breath as he thought of Jeremiah and the Eldunari he carried. Next time they met he was going to tear him in half. You and I both.

After a moment, he pointed towards where the Varden was regrouping, we should search for Nasuada. Now that his bloodlust had abated he felt tired for the first time that day. He did not mind killing others in war, but the thought of slaying so many made him somewhat saddened at the loss of life. He turned to Saphira as they picked their way between the corpses that littered the Burning Plains. Are you hurt Saphira?

A few scratches but nothing life threatening, you can heal me once we find Nasuada, he nodded. As they walked and he healed those who were wounded in their path, a hundred yards away he saw Orik bent over his fallen king as well as ten other dwarves and Murtagh. Another tragedy war has brought upon us.

Eragon nodded at her words and they continued onward, angling towards the Varden's encampment. When they reached Nasuada's pavilion, Saphira went to join Eridor who was lying outside the command tent, his armor coated in blood but he otherwise looked well. He lifted his head at her approach allowing her to lie down beside him resting her head in his paws as he rest his head atop hers in an intimate gesture.

Eragon spared them one glance before he swept back the flap and ducked inside. In the center of the tent was Nasuada, who sat on the edge of a table, letting a maid remove her twisted armor while she carried on a heated discussion with Arya. To his relief they were unhurt and well.

They both stopped as they spotted him. Arya made her way towards him her eyes blazing and they both reached towards each other at the same time. In moments they were embracing one another, he took a deep breath inhaling her scent. Even though she was smeared in blood, she was still beautiful. After a moment, he gently kissed the side of her head before pulling away from Arya to face Nasuada who also embraced him. When they pulled away, she returned to her table.

"We were worried about you," he walked forward Arya's hand intertwined in his, "We couldn't see what happened to you and Saphira after you landed on plateau. When the dragon—beast— left and you didn't reappear, Arya tried to contact you but felt nothing, so we assumed. . ." she trailed off. He understood then the reason for Arya's embrace. "We were just debating the best way to transport Du Vrangr Gata and an entire company of warriors across the river."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you. I'd forgotten that I'd had my mind guarded during the battle," Eragon explained, he gently squeezed Arya's hand, she shifted on her feet acknowledging his statement. Then they set off on how to transport the Varden across the Jiet River when the flap was pulled open again. Instinctively, his free hand went to his sword, only sword, at the new arrivals. It was just Murtagh and another person who looked no older than him, he had brown hair and brown eyes, a regular appearance but the expression of determination on his face made him stand out.

Nasuada went to embrace Murtagh as well which seemed to please his tired half-brother. "Are you well?" asked Murtagh as he studied the dark skinned leader.

"Never better, but I'm tired, war certainly takes a lot out of one," Nasuada said with a slight smile. "In any case are you and Thorn well?"

"We are," said Murtagh, then he brought forth the man standing beside him. "Nasuada, I would like to introduce my cousin, Roran. Ajihad may have mentioned him to you before. Roran, Lady Nasuada, leader of the Varden. And this is Arya Svit-kona, the elves' ambassador." Roran bored to each of them in turn. Hesitating, Murtagh gestured towards Eragon, "And this is my half brother, Eragon Shadeslayer."

The surprise that crossed his face which was later replaced behind a mask of polite indifference didn't go unnoticed by anyone. So this was his cousin on his mother's side. Eragon spared him another glanced before turning back to Nasuada.

"It is an honor to meet Eragon's and Murtagh's cousin," said Nasuada.

"Indeed," added Arya. Eragon politely inclined his head when he felt Saphira's thoughts nudge him to be polite.

"A pleasant surprise," said Eragon with some difficulty. He didn't know Roran and couldn't claim that he liked what he saw in the man. He was proud and by the looks of it, as stubborn as a mule.

After they had finished exchanging greetings, Murtagh had explained how the entire village of Carvahall had arrived on the Dragon Wing. He was impressed with him truth be told and he could tell that Arya was as well. It was one thing to transverse the land of Alagaesia by himself but to take an entire village with him was a different story entirely.

"May they join the Varden, Nasuada?" asked Murtagh at the end of his narration.

She raised a dark eyebrow, studying Roran who didn't flinch or lower his gaze. "The Varden are in your debt Roran, it was you and your people who had helped us in destroying the tents of the Empire's commanders allowing us to send them into confusion. You helped us to win this battle. I won't forget that. Our supplies are limited, but I will see that everyone on your ship is clothed and fed, and that your sick are treated."

Roran bowed even lower, "Thank you, Lady Nasuada."

"If I weren't pressed for time, I would insist upon knowing how and why you and your village evaded Galbatorix's men, traveled to Surda, and found us. Even just the bare facts of your trek make for an extraordinary tale. I shall intend to learn the specifics—especially since I suspect that it concerns Murtagh—but I must deal with other, more urgent matters at the moment."

"Of course, Lady Nasuada."

"You may go, then."

"Please let him stay," Murtagh said, Nasuada gave him a quizzical look but heeded his request but instead turned to Eragon, asking him for his report on the battle.

Eragon told her of the composition of the beast that Galbatorix had created, made from rotting flesh—animal or human—he didn't know. That there was a certain spell that held the beast together, opting for not telling her of the Eldunari that created the creature. Then he spoke to her of Jeremiah and that he was one of Galbatorix's most devoted followers and that the king and endowed upon his powers that could rival a rider's. "In the few years that I've served Galbatorix, I had only met the man a handful of times but his loyalty to the Empire and to the king is deeper than his love for his parents or for himself. He'd rather lose his legs than displease Galbatorix."

"It's amazing how Galbatorix can garner so much loyalty from his subjects," observed Nasuada. Eragon nodded, continuing with his report. He told her of how in his anger to kill Jeremiah he had severed his arm and in his haste to escape, Jeremiah had blinded him and flew off with the beast made of rotting flesh.

"If we meet on the battle field again, I can assure you my lady that I'll rip his heart from his chest," said Eragon darkly as he thought of Jeremiah in possession of half of his soul. "He won't escape Saphira and I."

"I have no doubt about it," said Nasuada as she gazed at him. "In any case, we've dealt the Empire a stinging blow here at the Burning Plains. Our army which is smaller than Galbatorix's by compare has managed to force them to retreat and you've managed to injure their commander fatally. It will give the Varden much cause to continue our invasion of the Empire. You were right, Eragon." He stared at her not understanding where she was headed. "Talent and skill does determine the winner rather than sheer numbers."

He smiled slightly. "Yes, Rosalie and Desdemona fought beside you?"

"For beautiful young women, they are quite capable to slewing scores of men," she said with a faint smile. "And Finny has earned his title as a human catapult within our army. It is amazing the skills your servants possess."

"It is," he agreed thinking of them.

"Bard, I'm most impressed with. He has the strategic mind set of a commendable general." And for the next few minutes, they discussed the Varden's next actions and the best way to keep the warriors' morals high since they'd emerged victorious in this battle. At last Nasuada said, "Enough. We cannot decide this when we are bloody and tired and our minds clouded from fighting. Go, rest, and we shall take this up again tomorrow."

Eragon nodded and he and Arya left the command tent together. Once they were outside, Arya's nose scrunched up in disgust. "Do I smell horrid?" asked Eragon as he glanced down at himself, he was drenched in blood and his white cape that was bestowed upon him dripped crimson. He would have to wash that soon.

"No, the air is filled with the stench of blood and gore," she took a deep breath, the expression slowly melting from her face. "It is always unpleasant to bear after battle."

He glanced at her studying her armor for a moment, she was less covered in blood than he was, which irked him slightly. When he pointed it out, she smiled faintly. "That is because when I fight, it is but a swift and elegant dance. However, when you fight like you did today, it is rather. . . messy."

"So you say," said Eragon also smiling slightly.

"So I say." She agreed.

There was movement beside them and he turned to find the dragons up and on their feet, their armor sparkling in the dim light of the afternoon sun. They were beautiful if frightening. Behind him, he heard Murtagh and Roran speaking. "Will you not speak to your cousin?"

Eragon shook his head. "Not today, I'm rather tired. Maybe tomorrow. What will you do now?"

"Bathe and sleep." He nodded that sounded reasonable.

"I'd prefer the sleep."

"As I know you would."

"Will you leave now?"

She shook her head. "It has been a long battle, I would like to spend some time with you before I leave to attend to other duties." Eragon stared at her, smiling down into her emerald eyes. Though the both of them were dirtied with blood and gore and tired from the fighting that day, it was impossible not to feel their burdens lifted as they stood together, their hands intertwined like their destiny was.

Over the Burning Plains, their battle field in which corpse littered the crows and ravens were beginning to descend ready to feast on the dead.

Please excuse some mistakes, my Beta is gone for the month (sadly enough) and I have to proof read the chapter and it's hard to catch mistakes when you're reading something that you wrote. Anyways, I hoped you all like this new enemy who possess half of Eragon's soul... What is going to happen to him now? Who knows, keep reading! Anyways, I hope you guys all had a wonderful christmas because I did and my New Years Party is coming up soon with my family and my boyfriend! I'm very excited for 2012!