IV

Forged Of Steel

After sensing the Shade, my training was notched up to eleven and then the dial was just taken off.

Whenever I wasn't studying the ancient language, I was practicing sword fighting, with an emphasis towards fighting multiple skilled opponents in the least possible time, archery using a Urgal horn bow, unarmed combat or training my magic. Whenever I wasn't doing that, I was using my alloy block to build myself armour, stitching it together with cloth derived from a mix of tree bark, animal skin and bone, which had been pulped together, then burnt till it was only carbon, liberally sprinkled with the alloy shavings. This was then woven into thin strands of pitch black cloth, which were liberally dosed with magic to not rip, tear or chafe, be breathable yet mask my smell and grant me the ability to bend light around me at will. The end result was a black armour, with the metal sealed onto the cloth, with the ability to vanish from sight. And I had inscribed runes of strength, speed and agility over the entire inside of the armour.

I was now working on the mask. It would be a sightless helm with breathing holes, a set of runes which could be activated to suppress sound of my breathing. Also, it contained a permanently active rune cluster to completely mask my mental presence. The helm itself was painted, on the inside and outside with pigments that allowed me to see clearly through the visor, with the ability to adjust it to changes in light.

I know, make sure I have all the advantages. I did not have the power to go toe to toe with even the weakest elf. Plus, while I had magic, I was nowhere near powerful enough to fight a magician at a wizard's duel. And win.

What I did have was cunning. Lots of it.

And I was planning on fighting and killing the most dangerous being on the entire continent.

Overkill is just a very fancy word for making sure you and your team come out the other side smelling of roses.

I had just finished fixing the gauntlet into place when Kulkarverk approached me.

'You must depart to Yazuac in one moon cycle's time. There you will face your first challenge. And meet Fate's Chosen' he says, his voice calm and ocean deep.

"You do know that when I start interacting with others, I won't give a damn about the time line and will do everything in my power to save everyone, right? I'm going to make the kid grow up as fast as he can, so that he can react to the challenges better" I reply to his statement.

He started chuckling in amusement at my statement, saying 'I'm counting on you to do just that'

I nod sharply in reply as I grab a piece of parchment, a sharpened piece of coal and start writing up a list of things I need.

It has been six weeks since I left the Forgotten City.

I used my pack's supplies for the first two weeks, traveling on foot, running as hard and fast as I can. I replenished my supplies by hunting. and gathering.

I reached Yazuac within 40 days. And all was well within the village on the banks of the River Ninor. I snuck into the town, using my invisibility, listening into conversations and watching the comings and goings of the entire village.

I know, creepy, but necessary.

I then located a copse of trees on a small rise that allowed me to see the village and its surrounds. I was far enough away not to be picked up on, yet close enough to render aid.

It was in this situation, tired, grimy and hungry I was that I heard the first horn sound.

Eragon's POV:

The clash of steel reached our ears as Brom and I spurred our steeds. Cadoc was heaving in gasps of air as we crested the rise to an astonishing sight.

A force of about 60 Urgals were attacking Yazuac, and were being engaged by one man. He moved like an oil slick stone, dancing among the Urgals. He dodged one Urgal's downward slash, using the momentum he slashed along the throat of his attacker. While blood fountained from one, he somersaulted over two blades sweeping under his feet. He stabbed downwards onto both attacker's skulls, ripping it out, tearing their heads in half. As he touched down, he blurred and suddenly the Urgal in front of him had its neck violently twisted, the snap audible from where we were standing. He flashed in and out of existence in a nimbus of blue light, his swords glowing with unnatural energies, killing Urgals by the bushel. He suddenly vanished from view. The Urgals look around, trying to locate him when a spurt of blood blossomed from the chest of the Urgal with a massive war axe. He then blurred out of existence, fists breaking helms, crushing windpipes and caving chests.

Finally, five Urgals were left, standing in a circle facing outwards, weapons at the ready. The figure seemed to come into existence as if he were stepping through a waterfall, a bow with an arrow nocked in it.

A strange purple light emitted from the arrow, then he released it. It was fast, too fast.

Suddenly, the Urgals just exploded. No fire, no heat. Just a muted pop and they burst open.

'Saphira, did you see this?' I ask her, my voice tinged with awe and fear. Saphira growled in anger.

'I am on my way little one' she says, as I feel her approaching. Brom, in the meantime, urged Snowfire on at an easy canter. I followed him with Cadoc who is reluctant to approach the carnage. The man immediately reacted to us with a hand grabbing one of his blades, then upon seeing us, relaxed.

Strange.

"Greetings warrior! My friend and I witnessed your actions. I must say, it was quite...impressive" Brom trailed off as we looked into a skull shaped helm.

"Glad to hear that" he replied, his voice deep and toneless. He then vanished from view in front of us, slowly fading into immateriality.

What in the name of all that existed was that? I ask myself, knowing that my question will probably remain unanswered.

R&R!