Chapter 32: A Bath, A War, and an Old Goat.
A bath had been found as per his request, located in a deep green tent, it was dark in the tent, there was a rather nice bed in a corner. This tent had belonged to one of Orrin's men, who had gracefully given it up for the Rider's use. Meaning he had, while stating his name multiple times, given Eragon permission to use his tent, stating multiple times how honoured he was to be of use to the Rider, and making not so subtle hints as to the ways Eragon could repay him.
But before Eragon could enjoy it, Orik found him.
"What's up brother?" he asked, giving the bath a light thump.
Orik considered the bath, which was about as tall as he was, before looking at Eragon "What are you doing?" he asked, hook his thumbs into his belt, one thumbing the head of his axe "Should you not be preparing for war? And yet here you are with a bath and…" before he could continue to the captain Eragon had originally given the orders too entered again, this time with a razor and a metal plate in his hand.
"Rider, I have located a razor and mirror, please" he proffered them. Eragon jabbed a thumb at the table located in the tent.
"Put em there."
"Of course my lord" once he was done, he bowed to Eragon "Anything else, sir?"
"No, that's all. Good work" he touched the young captains mind "Bryant, I appreciate your efforts on my behalf" perhaps he laid it on a bit too thick, as the young man actually started to tear up from his word.
"It was an honour sir" Bryant said, before disappearing. Off to give commands to his unit, which is what he should have been doing all along but Eragon's commands came first, apparently.
The Rider chortled.
"It's empty" Orik noted, standing on tiptoes to look into the bath.
"Not for much longer" Eragon told him "Adurna" from the earth itself pure clear water erupted, splashing into the tub and filling it to the brim, which was actually too much as he would displace some water, but it would just make the floor wet, and he hardly cared about that. After today he'd never see the tent again, most likely.
"It's cold" Orik noted this time, putting a finger into the water.
"Orik... " Eragon cocked a brow at the dwarf. The little man was in no way unaware of Eragon's capabilities. Indeed he was probably more aware than any in the Varden, having watched Eragon's lessons several times and he had, perhaps, come to understand more fully the exact limits of magic than he had previously known. Eragon thought he had, as the dwarf was far more confident around him than previously, less reserved, and while he had not exactly been reserved and official before there was a new confidence to his interactions. At the time Eragon assumed it was due to his increasing understanding of the limits of Eragon's own abilities.
"I was getting you into a rhythm, next time I was going to say it's not orange, see if you'd do that too" Orik said, disappointedly.
Eragon just cracked a grin, whispering a word and watching as the bath steamed.
He dipped a hand in and splashed water on his face, making wet the hairs on his face as he wandered over to the mirror. It wasn't a mirror per se, just a roughly round piece of metal that was somewhat reflective, though not perfectly so. The razor was sharp and true, and quite well kept, it had perhaps belonged to a barber?
Orik watched him strip off his tunic and throw it to the bed.
"The dwarves have placed themselves under my command" he told Eragon as the Rider began to shave "And seeing as you too are a member of Durgrimst Ingeitum, we shall fight alongside you as well. Consider us your guards" Eragon was about to speak, but Orik kept going "Your unneeded guards, I confess" the way he said 'unneeded' implied this was not a confession, but a lie said to placate the Rider "But it will at least give you time to concentrate on your real job, killing the enemy magickers."
"Is magickers even a word?" Eragon asked, trying to not carve half his face off "I've heard of magician, wizard, spellcaster, sorcerer, even warlock, magus, and enchanter, but not 'magicker'."
"Eh" Orik shrugged "It makes sense."
"Sure" several moments passed in silence, as Eragon continued his work. Once he was with his face he considered his hair for a minute. It was too long, it was starting to get genuinely long, as opposed to 'off middling length' which is how he would previously have described it "My hair needs cutting" he said.
"Want me to call a barber?" Orik said, his words ending moments before the razor carved through locks of Eragon's hair. He hand came away holding a chunk, which he let fall to the ground, picking up another fistfull before he sliced through that "I guess not."
Eragon didn't stop until his hair was trimmed quite short, no longer hanging past his face or down to his chin, though not so short that his scalp was visible through what was left of his hair. It was uniform, and quite neat.
Orik chuckled once he was done "Is that what you do before a battle, groom yourself?" his next words name in dwarvish, and would roughly translate to 'You fucking pansy lady-man'.
Eragon laughed "I cut my beard because it makes me look stupid" he said "I cut my hair because it's too long, had a razor and decided I wouldn't find another opportunity to do it. Good enough?"
"Sure" the dwarf said, sounding unconvinced, but smiling good naturedly. It faded to something more serious after a moment "What do you think of Nasuada's actions today Eragon?"
"You mean allying with Urgals" Eragon said, beginning to take his trousers off, ignoring Orik saying 'Can you at least wait till I'm gone?' "I think she's chosen. Whether it's a good or bad choice is still up in the air. I don't think turning away allies, especially ones at… renowned as the Kull, is a good idea, and with a hundred thousand soldiers of the Empire camped just over there" he gestured vaguely, and in the wrong direction, though he did not know that of course "It's probably a good idea, even if it's not beneficial in the long run."
Orik nodded "I agree" he said "Some of the other dwarves are unhappy, and I understand it. I… I hate them too, they're…" he shook his head "They're strong, and they want Galbatorix dead, I'll gladly take their blades by our side" water sloshed out of the tub as Eragon got in, his body flinching at the heat of the water "I'll leave you too it then."
"Sure" Eragon told him but before he could leave "Actually could you find whoever has my stuff and tell them to bring it here, and Saphira's armour too."
"Of course my lord" he said extravagantly, giving Eragon a flourishing bow, in mockery of Captain Bryant no doubt.
Eragon smiled as he was left alone in the dark tent, Saphira curled up outside as she could not fit in the tent "Bath's are nice."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
His mind was active, moving rapidly from place to place, conversing, observing, dishing out orders and granting knowledge and explaining his plans, while he himself remained stationary. She would've found him anyway, it would not be difficult, but with this he was like a beacon, even easier to find than his giant blue dragon.
Saphira cracked open an eye, then looked away, saying nothing, not even acknowledging her presence.
That hurt, but Arya did not blame her.
She considered announcing herself before entering, but then decided to simply enter. Was she afraid he would tell her to go away, cast her and her excuses to the wayside before she even had a chance to explain. Maybe, or maybe she was afraid that her debating how to announce herself would have cost her all the willpower it took to bring her to this point.
Seeking him out had not been easy for her.
It was dark inside the tent, though not pitch, and her eyes adjusted quickly enough to gather a basic overview of the area, though it was still shadowed. Eragon sat in a wooden tub, the water steaming. A bed sat over there, a table there, and little else save a rug on the floor next to the bed.
It was not a terribly well furnished tent, but it was more than sufficient, extravagant even for a soldier marching to war.
"Need something?" he asked, not even cracking open his eyes to look at her.
She remained silent. It was only natural that he had noticed her approach, though she was silent as a cat, her mind could not be so stealthy, and an elven mind such as hers must stand out amongst all the humans minds in the surrounding area.
Human minds were… different to elven minds, it was difficult to explain the exact differences, but there was a distinct one between humans and elves and dwarves and Urgals, and indeed all the other races, dragon and spirits and werecats, though she had little experience in Urgal minds she must confess. But humans she knew quite well, well enough to have experienced many of their minds.
When she first touched one she knew it to be foreign, to be different. It scared her a little at first, fear was followed by derision, she found them wanting, and then that was followed simple acceptance, they were different from her own species, and that was perfectly fine.
An elven mind was intricate, at least in comparison, layered, woven, musical in nature with a tune playing in their heads, sometimes mellow, sometimes wild, sometimes sombre, but ever present. Their singing had had a lasting effect on their entire race.
But human minds were simpler, hence her derision, she thought them… well, stupid, a simpler mind indicated a simpler process of thoughts, and therefore stupidity, correct? Not necessarily, it was far less complex, but complexity did not mean designed intelligently, it implied it but did not confirm it. Simple solutions were often the easiest way to solve a problem, and the easiest solution was not oft the wrong one, if there even could be a wrong one.
But there was more to human minds than that, more differences that she had noticed, human minds were more open, that is to say honest, they lied to themselves, and lied to others, and they forgot about lying quickly enough, but they could not lie to themselves like the elves could, an elven mind was so prone to misdirection it was easy to get lost and confused, in a human mind it was more difficult.
Eragon cracked open an eye at last and looked at her, as she still did not speak. She quickly started formulating words, realising just how long she had been stood here in silence.
Warm water splashed her in the face before she could get out the first sentence "C'mon elf" he said, grinning at her "I don't have all day, just most of it."
After wiping the water from her face, she offered him a small smile for his words, grateful for the prompt, but still unsure of how to proceed "Eragon" she started with his name, a good start "I wanted to… I…" it was hard, apologies were hard, especially when she knew she was right, but had been right in a unpleasant, and indeed outright rude and offensive way. She did not feel entirely justified in her actions that night, hence why she was apologising, but she did not feel wholly regretful either. They were words that needed to be said, some of them at least, others were… simply unkind.
Why she said what she had still puzzled her. Perhaps the Agaeti Blodhren had removed such inhibitions from her, making her speaks words she wanted to say but knew were cruel. Perhaps she was saying them for her benefit, to remind herself that such a relationship was wrong. Or maybe the Eragon she had witnessed that night was so… different, that she could not accept it, and so lashed out.
Either way, it was something she should apologise for, and an apology was what she was now trying to form into words.
"Don't" he told her before she could, splashing in the tub playfully "You cut me down enough back then, don't now stab me as I recover by apologising, I don't think I could live through it" though he grinned at her, she knew he was just covering up whatever pain he felt, or had felt, at her words. What she had said was uncalled for, it went too far. But if she could not apologise, who then could she make it better.
He let himself sink under the water entirely, head, feet and everything, water cascading down the side of the tub and onto the dirt below them, before rising suddenly, stood tall, from the water's depths, the clear liquid dripping off of his body at first in a wave and then in little drips. He stepped out from the tub, nude and grinning at her, but strolled past Arya, as she stood stiffly before him, heading to the bags next to the bed.
Drying himself with a word he began unpacking dark steel plates from the bags, laying them out on the bed in a neat array. Not stopping till he held a set of clothes in his hands. He dressed swiftly, putting on loose black trousers and a deep blue tunic, as well as his boots which were also of fine make and also black. There was a lot of black in his battle outfit.
He was reaching for the first piece of armour when he hand stopped him, laying a hand over his and gently pushing it away.
Eragon let her, and watched curious as she reached for the chest piece, the largest piece but also the one most of the others attached too, so the first one to be put on.
"Rhunon made it for me" he told her when she asked, as this was not his dwarven gifted armour that he had worn in Farthen Dur.
She was shocked at that, and stopped belting on his breastplate for a moment to allow herself to be shocked. Armour made by Rhunon herself… this would fetch a price that could not be measured from any who knew her name, and her legend, why was equally strange, as when she asked Eragon told her "She wanted something to do, I think, so she made me armour."
The armour Rhunon had made for him was not overly complex, not intricately designed, not covered in spikes or edged to all hell, it was instead quite simple but very pleasant in its design, and the few aesthetic touches she had given it.
Indeed the only notable ones, or at least the only ones Arya noticed and noted, were on his arms, the vambraces, was a mark representing the Varden a dragon a rose and a field all carefully inlaid, though none save the dragon was really noticeable, and next to it the symbol of the word 'Varden' had been inscribed.
On the other the mark of Durgrimst Ingeitum, twelve stars surrounding a hammer, and next to that another symbol, this time it indicated a smith, true enough for Durgrimst Ingeitum she supposed.
"Why black?" she asked, as she attached the leg armour, fully aware of Eragon grinning down at her as she kneeled in front of him.
Eragon shrugged "I dunno. Rhunon said, and I quote 'silver is too generic, everyone has silver armour… or grey I suppose, as you humans can't get your metal to shine quite like us elves, and gold is gaudy, so black it is', don't ask why she didn't do it blue, she ranted at me for fifteen minutes about that and getting the metal to accept colour" Eragon groaned "That's a fair portion of my life I'm not about to get back" he chuckled, as she located the other leg guard and strapped that to his shin "I asked her at the time, 'Are you trying to make me look more like a villain?', she told me should couldn't do that if she tried… bitch."
Once she had attached all his armour Eragon went back into his bags and pulled free a long cloak of deep blue, the same coloured as the tunic he wore, which attached via a chain around his neck, fully armoured now Eragon was an imposing figure. She wouldn't be surprised to see someone like him amongst Galbatorix's army with that black armour, although she supposed few there would dare emulate Galbatorix, beg for his favour was fine but emulate? Maybe not, given how likely he was to kill any that tried.
"Eragon" she held his helm in her hands, a great helm of rather standard construction, with padding sewn inside the helmet and easy enough to pull on with the helmet itself so that he would not need to wear any.
"Yes" he responded, not moving closer to let her put the helm on his head, but not taking it from her grasp either.
"What… what happened to you?"
He cocked a brow.
"Your eyes, last I saw you they were brown. Last I saw you, you said Legion's influence over you was gone. Last I saw you, you claimed to be entirely human. What happened… if I may ask?"
He considered her question a long time, eventually taking the helmet out of her hand and returning it to his bags simply to have something to do. He finally addressed her, when he had Zar'roc attached to his belt and Durza grasped in one hand "There was a time" he said slowly "Not too long ago in fact, when I would have answered that, simply because you asked. But… times change" he shrugged "I apologise, Arya Svit-kona, I consider it to be a private matter and do not wish to speak of it.
She was shocked by his rather blunt statement of it, expecting him to avoid the subject or just not say if he wished to not. It would've hurt if he had done that, but not as bad as this. And it was not like his words were unkind, cruel, or even cold, yet it hurt all the same "I understand" she told him formally "I apologise for asking a sensitive question."
Eragon shrugged, he didn't know what to say either.
This Eragon was different to the one she had known before, just as the one she had witnessed during the Agaeti Blodhren was different from the Eragon she had known before, this one was similarly different.
His bloodlust had been tempered by… wisdom? Age? Simple sobriety? He was still playful, still teasing, but no longer so wild, no longer did she fear for her life with every conversation. And he seemed far more amiable than before, not a man she would fear approaching, or hesitate before bothering even with a major issue, he was not the most welcoming man, and still had an aura of power about him, but he was more confident, charismatic even.
Her wonder at the why did not stop, but she would cease any questioning of him… she would not stop pursuing the truth, however.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Orik and his dwarven warriors found him armouring his dragon, with her permission they assisted him in the effort. Saphira shrugged heavily once they were done, circling on the spot to get used to the weight 'It's heavy' she complained.
'I know the feeling' Eragon said, his own armour made him feel heavy, made him feel slow, compared to his usual agility and speed at least. He was probably still many times faster than a man or dwarf.
After that the dwarves ate, drank, sang, and finally dozed off. Eragon took part in their celebration, though his joy was somewhat muted. Saphira more than made up for it, humming along to every tune, laughing raucously at every joke, and sampling every liquor the dwarves provided.
His hands were trembling.
He considered that a moment, the shake in his hands, once the dwarves had fallen to a slumber, the entirety of them. Lifting a trembling hand he considered it against the fire, watching it shake "What am I scared off?" he wondered softly. Was he even scared? He didn't feel it. Maybe it was excitement, at the war oncoming.
The thought of blood, of death, of chaos, brought a grin to his face.
And that made him laugh "She was right" he told Saphira, who was considering him with big blue eyes.
'How so?'
"Legion is better than me" she made to speak, but he didn't stop "I thought it all came from Legion, my anger, my hate, my bloodlust. But he can't even touch me now, and here I am… getting off to the simple thought of war. The bloodlust was mine, the hate was mine, as was the anger."
'Legion exacerbated such things, Eragon. What you feel is…'
"Mine!" he snapped. Then chided himself for his reaction, as Saphira looked at him startled at the vehemence of his declaration "It's mine" he said softly to the somewhat startled dragon "What I feel is my own. All of it. Don't make excuses for me, especially not to me."
She didn't speak, unwilling to agree.
"Whitey told me, spirits are corrupted by men, driven mad by their feelings, whether it be joy or love or hate or anger. That pain is shared with the man, and the man responds to pain with anger, with hate, with fear, with agony, and thus the spirits begin to reflect that, until all that is left is a being made up of those very feelings, a being made of the darkest a man can offer. But all of… it all comes from the man."
Eragon blinked, and glanced towards the plains where tomorrow's battle would be thought.
"Angela, Solembum?" he queried, feeling the mind of a werecat, and knowing only one woman who made such a being her companion.
He strolled over, silently telling Saphira to wait, she was unnecessary, and her movement would wake the dwarves. He met them as they approached the fortifications. Angela was dressed quite stealthily, a dark, full length cloak that blended into the land at night. She clambered up the fortification, leaping trenches, and running down the steep face of the last rampart to stop in front of him, panting.
"Well aren't you the agile one" Eragon noted with a grin.
Angela, throwing back her hood, flashed him a brilliant smile "A welcoming committee! How thoughtful of you, but you shouldn't have. It's quite unnecessary."
Eragon rolled his eyes, when he was done a young boy stood in the place of the cat, and Solembum quickly dressed in clothing that Angela had passed him.
"What were you doing?" he asked.
"Oh you know, this" she said calmly, making to stroll past "And that too, mustn't forget that."
Eragon caught her arm, and she responded by flinching. He noted that, she was scared of him, despite her best efforts to appear unimpressed by his changes, she was scared "Angela" he said softly "What. Were. You. Doing?"
"Do you not trust us, Rider?" she asked, her face hard. Solembum bared his teeth, though it was more a grin than a threat.
"I barely trust myself."
She giggled, finding his response very amusing "That's not especially good. Not trusting me might help you live a little longer, but not trusting yourself will only get you killed" she shook her head, still beaming "If you must known I was making my own effort to aid us in defeating the Empire, though I confess my efforts do not involve swinging about a plank of steel and screaming."
"And what are your efforts?"
"I'd rather not say" she said, twirling a lock of curly hair "I want it to be a surprise."
Eragon rolled his eyes at her "Well given that you're a herbalist, I can make an educated guess as to your 'efforts'."
Angela pouted "Stop spoiling the surprise, you surprise spoiling… nincompoop."
Eragon scoffed and left her alone, ignoring her. He did take notice, however, of the Urgals approaching his impromptu camp around… Lord Ershire? Around Lord somethings tent that had been graciously donated to him. And the woman who walked alongside them, actually she led them.
"You want something?" he asked, entering into the circle of firelight that the dwarves slept in, several stirred at his words. All woke at Orik's sudden bark of "Urgals!" They stood, half of them with their axes out, the others fingers them. Orik himself was a part of the fingering group. Eragon frowned to himself, that sounded rather... dirty.
Nasuada ignored the drawn weapons, as did the four Kull with her, after a moment's caution that is, one of whom Eragon thought was Garzhvog… he wasn't certain though, they all looked the same to him.
"I asked Garzhvog and his four warriors to be your guards, I see Orik has already gathered his own to fight alongside you, I am sure you will not deny a few more willing blades" she met Eragon's gaze, taking a few steps towards him so she could speak more quietly "They agreed to let you examine their minds, for treachery, should you fear it."
"Do you not?" he whispered.
She didn't respond, instead moving even closer "Eragon, I am doing everything I can to ensure we don't lose tomorrow. But none of that even matters, if we lose you"she placed her hand on his chest "I need you to survive above all else, and while there is nothing I can do to protect you from Galbatorix, even the Du Vrangr Gata will be nothing before him, and I'd rather they were eradicated without good reason. That is why I assign you these guards, if only to stop a sword from taking your life."
Eragon grinned at her "I know. If the Black King shows himself… I don't even want your help" he told her, grinning "He's all mine."
Nasuada placed her hand on his shoulder "Just don't die… for me?"
"Hmm" a sly smirk spread over his face "For you? Why Lady Nasuada, you are quite forward aren't you. I'll take that promise … for a kiss."
The look on her face was worth whatever came next, confusion, followed by shock, and then embarrassment. And then she kissed him. That shocked him, even though it was only on his cheek, nothing more than a casual peck, the sort a mother might give her son, there was nothing to it, but it brought a smile to his face even so.
"Just survive" she told him, she turned her gaze to the Urgals who were stood almost carelessly, though the tenseness in their muscles was not impossible to see "I hate them, you know. They killed my father, I... But I can't let that rule me, I have to think about the Varden, not about me" she turned her gaze to him once again, and he was no longer talking to Nasuada, but to the Leader of the Varden "In the event of my death, I have named you my successor. I expect you to do me proud, should it occur." and with that she took her leave, not even letting him respond.
The dwarves stood before the Urgals, like a wall, while the Kull just stood there waiting on his pleasure. Eragon groaned, knowing he now had to deal with this "Garzhvog" he said, approaching the one he thought was the Urgal's envoy, and given he titled himself with Nar, he was presumably important, a warchief most likely "Your men understand human?"
Garzhvog nodded "For most part" he told the Rider.
"Good, whatever shields you may have on your mind remove them now, This won't be painless, but it'll be quick. I want to sleep tonight and not waste my time on these pointless frivolities."
It was a further display of her wisdom, putting them under Eragon's command and forcing him to examine their mind. After all if he found any sign of treachery he'd kill them all, at least if it was planned or if they were colluding with Galbatorix, if there were some general thoughts of betraying the Varden he wouldn't really care, that was to be expected honestly.
"Understood Firesword" they said in unison.
Eragon pushed into all their minds simultaneously. It was another thing he had noticed since merging with Whitey, it was like his focus had increased, he could maintain multiple spells requiring complex thought processes at once with little to no crossover. It was like… like he had more than one mind to perform all his tasks.
And similarly he could reach into a draw from multiple minds at once, not just glancing thoughts, but in depth review.
And it was that that he did right now.
He had seen Urgal culture before, it didn't surprise him, he learned a little more, his Urgalian would likely benefit, other than that the only thing of interest he learned was of their respect for him. Despite all the scores of their kin he had killed, they respect him, a worthy foe, and now a mighty ally. Saphira was not left out, indeed she was venerated alongside him, if not above him, much to her personal pleasure.
He shrugged once he was done, not speaking to them despite them expecting some address, and sitting back next to Orik, though separating himself a little from the now banded together dwarves, who seemed to be walling themselves against the Urgals.
"Well?" Orik asked.
"What?"
"What did you see?"
Eragon just shrugged at the dwarf, who was most likely wondering if there was some great treachery brewing the minds of the Kull "Stuff. They won't betray us, they hate Galbatorix as much as we do" he cracked a grin "Funnily enough oath breaking is not well regarded amongst Urgals."
Orik chuckled harshly, though he kept a close eye on the Kull, his hand caressing the head of his axe "Don't worry" he told the thoroughly unworried Rider in dwarven "We'll watch them like a hawk, and should they turn their weapons on you, we'll cut their legs from beneath them."
Eragon rolled his eyes, the caution was unnecessary and not really appreciated "Keep your eyes on the enemy little man, the real enemy" he said patting the dwarf on the head "I'm gonna sleep" he announced to the group at large, drawing their gazes "Don't kill each other while I'm out" they exchanged some wary glances "Saphira burn them alive if they start fighting."
'Doesn't that defeat the point?' she asked.
He didn't bother answering.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Saphira swooped over the soldiers of the Empire, he heard and felt their fear below him, and found that it did not make him sad, or mournful, or thoughtful or philosophical. It made him… feel good, made him feel strong, he felt powerful because they were afraid of him, and Saphira understood and even reflected his feelings.
She enjoyed her dominance over the men below who feared her presence, she had no mercy for them, they were little more than bugs, rabbits at best, before her.
Both his swords were sheathed on Saphira's saddle, so as to free him from the having to carry a sheath. It added nothing to the weight Saphira carried, her armour weighed many times the amount of any one of his swords.
In his hand Zar'roc gleamed bloody and violent in the sunlight. They had struck at first dawn, blood being spilled before the sun had fully risen over the horizon. Despite Angela's poison the Empire's force was still immense, so many men, Eragon couldn't wrap his mind around all of them, couldn't even reach the ends of the horde.
But, he grinned, soon enough he'd thin out the herd.
She breathed fire into the soldiers below, it terrified most, harmed a few, killed none. While they flew Eragon searched out for the Empire's spellcasters, casting his mind in every direction. A grin split his face 'Getting off here babe' he told her, before letting himself loose of the straps and dropping.
It took the men a minute to realise he had landed, but they backed away, forming a neat circle around him as they realised his presence. Spears were pointed towards him, as where swords, as they formed a facsimile of a front line solely around his presence.
Zar'roc glinted as it stabbed through the first man, Eragon yanked him off his blade and pushed him aside, moving to the next. He cut the head off a spear, before grabbing the man who wielded it by the throat, his sword swung, splintering a shield raised and carving into the arm, though not severing it. He yanked it free, then cut down the man he held in his hand, before simply striding forwards.
His blade cut any who dared approach as he wandered, quite casually he thought, through the men, strolling calmly but with purpose. The spellcaster realised his approach and tried to flee, but Eragon wouldn't let him. He sprinted, closing the distance in an instant, dashing through and past the soldier guarding him, with a single swing he cut the magician in half.
'Torch em' he told Saphira who landed, crushing a bunch of soldier beneath her claws and heavy plate, then breathing hot blue fire onto the rest, carving through them with tooth and claw.
Eragon drained some strength from a few, before ending those few himself. Storing it in Zar'roc's pommel, or giving it to Saphira to refill her own reserves as she depleted it killing the soldiers.
He grabbed the pointed head of a halberd thrusted at his dragon's face, the back of his armoured hand smashed into the man's helmed head and sent him to the ground. Eragon took the halberd, and thrust it through his less armoured stomach, stabbing through chainmail with his strength and impaling the man. He twisted it, lifting the soldier into the air, and stabbed the halberd down, leaving him impaled in the air. A symbol of the violence that had been presented here this day, and would continue to be presented, to each and everyone one of his enemies.
He continued like this for hours, flying, seeking, locating, killing. With Zar'roc and only Zar'roc in hand, Eragon the Rider slaughtered his way through the men of the Empire, stoic in the face of their fear, terror and abject hopelessness as they faced him. Some didn't even want to be here, others came for money, some because of fear of what the Varden would do to their families. No one here was evil, not the Varden, not the dwarves, the Urgals, or the Empire.
No one was evil, yet everyone branded the other as the wrong party, the ones who were incorrect in their view.
War, Eragon thought ponderously, brought out the worst in men, but also the most honest part of them all. They were right, any who disagreed were wrong, any who were different were wrong, any who dissented were wrong, they were the enemy, they deserved to die, they were evil… because their opinion was different, because they justified things from their perspective, that made evil.
He pushed such thoughts away, and let himself revel in the slaughter, letting a vicious grin slide into place on his face. He wiped Zar'roc clean with his cape, staining the fabric with blood, and sheathed it, drawing instead Durza, the fouler, crueller blade letting him become more cruel.
When he next landed the calm, confident killing he had before engaged in was gone, now a mad flurry of blood and death and steel surrounded him on all sides. He didn't walk, he flowed from kill to kill, when they backed away he pursued and killed them all the more cruelly. The Shade… or the man, in him was let out in all its inglorious glory.
Many times the Du Vrangr Gata called upon his mind, the aid of his mind or his magic, needing both equally. By the time midday passed Eragon was tired, he killed a mage and drained the strength of every man around him, greedily sucking up their strength, but soon enough that too was burned through.
He and Saphira had destroyed man a war machine, torching the wooden structures, or just collapsing them with Saphira's immensity.
But the unfortunate fact was that there were quite a few of the enemy, and only a few of them.
They landed where the Urgals and Dwarves had cut a opening, Orik approached him concerned when he did not immediately jump into the front lines and instead stood next to Saphira for a minute.
"You alright?" Orik asked, grinning roughly. He had a leg wound, his helmet was on crooked, Eragon couldn't even be bothered responding.
Why… was this so fun?
The grin took over his face again, and he stormed forwards, leaving Saphira behind to rest, a rest she gratefully took. His sword cut a bloody swathe through the men, he felt their terror, and it only made him enjoy it more. The Urgals and the Dwarves backed off, leaving him alone, surrounded on three sides by men on the Empire, his guards guarding only his back. It was a fair arrangement, if they had tried to guard either of his three forward facing sides he'd probably kill them… by accident, obviously.
Three of Orik's brethren had fallen, and one of the Kull, in the time he had spent away. He didn't have the heart to care and just kept killing. For a while, there was nothing but killing, when another Kull fell, two more dwarves, he just carried on his art of murder. At some point he realised he was laughing, some point later Saphira was at his side engaging in bloody slaughter alongside him, matching his viciousness tooth and claw for steel and spell.
His hands were trembling from exertion, he was so tired, but his carnal desire would not be denied by something as pathetic as him being sleepy. He was going to keep killing until he died, that was his fate. His bloody grin hadn't faded since he had chewed through that man's neck, his sword having been busy at the time.
This was too much fun.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Arya cut down another soldier of the Empire who dared approach the leader of the Varden. Nasuada insisted she go to the frontline, despite Trianna's, and her own, advice. But with Arya as her escort, as well as a score of the finest warriors the Varden had to offer, or to spare rather, the young woman had entered the fray.
She fought valiantly. Arya was unaware of Nasuada's training in the art of battle, but she performed very well for a human woman, impressing many of the men around her. The wards Eragon had cast around her had saved her life at least six times by Arya count, she wasn't even sure if Nasuada realised the existence of such wards. Indeed Arya had only noticed when trying to apply her own to the young woman.
Eragon relayed some information to Trianna as the battle ran its course, who in turn relayed what was appropriate to Nasuada and herself, and now related solely to Arya as the… leader was no longer appropriate, as Eragon's vice commander, remained further back, offering her support to her spellcasters scattered throughout the Varden's troops, not risking herself on the frontlines.
The most interesting tidbit that he had revealed was the fact that the spellcasters had been ordered to leave him alone, or specifically to not kill him.
It was reassuring to a certain extent, as it meant Eragon would not face death at the hands of some mere magician of the Empire, but it was worrying to a different degree as it meant, despite his continued rebellion Galbatorix still wanted Eragon, or wanted his death saved for a personal affair, or public execution.
Barden contacted them, she felt it as Eragon connected to Trianna who in turn connected to Arya, Barden having connected to Eragon solely, him being closest to King Orrin's magician 'The dwarves are here!' Barden announced, she heard a trumpet sound from the east, from King Orrin's cavalry 'The dwarves!' she bore witness to the image of the heavily armoured dwarven column, led by a elderly figure bearing a hammer and clad in gold mail.
She felt Eragon withdraw shortly after, taking a moment to say something privately to Trianna, Trianna sent back a less secured affirmative, then he was gone, actually he was gone before she responded.
Arya turned to Nasuada, pulling her back from the battle so that the younger woman could catch her breath, and so that she could relay the information she had received. Nasuada had not the stamina for war, even if she had the skill "The dwarves have arrived" Arya said "We should withdraw to Trianna's location and prepare to strategize with them."
Nasuada nodded, not at all because she was tired but because it was a sound idea, that was definitely why she withdrew so agreeably. Arya mused for a moment on the nature of pride and the folly of pride itself, before deciding she sounded too much like Oromis and shaking her head ruefully.
'Eragon' she felt him reach out to her, finding her amidst the army of men.
'There's a ship' he told her 'Coming up the Jiet river. Tell Nassy for me.'
'Nassy?'
She relayed the information to the Varden's leader who said without hesitation "If they are the enemy kill them, sink the ship if you can. If not… if not, contact me again" she rubbed her head, stressed, tired, and thoroughly overwhelmed with everything, just managing to maintain the facsimile of a Leader "I'll deal with that then."
'Got it' Eragon said, having been listening in through her ears 'C'mon Saphy, we have things to kill' Arya shivered at the feeling of pleasure that flowed into her from Eragon in the instants before he cut the connection. The idea of killing was downright erotic to him, or comparable at least, it was not truly sexual arousal that he felt but it was certainly intense feeling of pleasure.
It did not feel… pleasant, at least not to her.
Arya ran a hand through her blood stained hair, it had been tied back at the start of the battle, but somewhere her tie had slipped or broken and her hair now flowed free of restraint. Arya and Nasuada made their way quickly to Trianna's location, where the Varden's leader began issuing commands through the vice-leader.
Arya turned her head, watching as a dragon crossed the sky, heading to the river. Briefly she thought she bore witness to a pair of crimson red eyes, gleaming in the setting sun. It may simply have been his wine red blade but… it made her shiver.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
A roar pierced the deck of the ship. Roran felt staggered by the mere sound, others fell to the deck, holding their ears. He turned his gaze and bore witness to a dragon, sapphire blue, and plated in heavy armour, approaching the ship at speed. Fire built in its maw and then… it sweeped past, buffeting them with air.
Roran watched as the dragon circle by, and found, sat at the junction where the dragon's' neck met its shoulder was a man, clad in black armour, with a blue cloak swirling behind him. A brown haired man.
He felt something… something vast and distinctly not himself in his head, it was immense and powerful, and terrifying, and from that emanated a voice 'Roran?' though Eragon, if it was truly Eragon, was far away he heard the voice as if he was stood next to the younger man.
"Eragon" he responded. Horst looked at him oddly.
'What are you doing here?' his voice was oddly echoing and muted at the same time.
"Looking for you" he muttered viciously.
'Oh?' there was some… amusement, in Eragon's answer, and that made Roran grit his teeth in anger.
"A Rider, a real Rider!" Horst exclaimed, beaming and in awe "I never thought I'd see the day… a legend brought to life, and it's our Eragon, eh" he shook his head, laughing a little.
Jeod was also grinning like a delighted child at the sight before them.
"Eragon" Roran said, feeling a faint recognition, like he was being glanced at, and taking that as a cue to continue "I need you help. Katrina been kidnapped by the Ra'zac" that drew Eragon's attention, he felt the Rider look back at him as the dragon began flying back to the battle "Jeod thinks they're at Helgrind. I need you and your dragon to save her."
'I'm a bit busy' Eragon told him humorously.
"Once the battle done, obviously" he said grumpily "What… I have other questions for you" he said sternly "You have much to answer for."
A moment passed and there was no response.
"Eragon?"
'Sorry, I was distracted' the Rider told him, Roran said blue fire spark in his hand and he cast it down into a swathe of soldier below him. All were consumed by the sapphire flames, he could hear their screams from here, and… though it was of no real importance he noticed that some had fallen before Eragon had done… whatever the hell he had done. They all heard, nay felt, a cruel laugh that sent a shiver down each of their spines 'You say something?' yet Eragon's next words were no different from his last.
Roran didn't respond "What can we do?" he asked "We're here to help."
Another laugh came from Eragon, this one far less cruel and more amused 'You want to help eh? Well you see the enemy, those guys' it was odd, but Roran felt himself urged to look, and all of a sudden he could see the difference between the Varden's force and the Empire, where before it was a confusing mess of bodies 'Kill em, that could help. But try not to die, I've got enough to bury.'
It was odd, but Roran felt… something, wrap around him, like the air around him shifted, and then he didn't notice it anymore. He watched as Eragon and his dragon swept across the soldier, the dragon breathing sapphire fire on the men whose screams, again, could be heard from here, while Eragon sat atop her, his steel sword glinting in the light.
Roran gripped his hammer, and the shield Horst had handed him "I'm going to fight" he told Horst and Jeod, who didn't have time to respond before he ran to the quarterdeck "Ground the ship!" he said.
"What?" Uthar, the man guiding the ship up the river, stared at him blankly.
"Ground the ship" he repeated "Stay here with the rest of the soldier and use the ballistae to wreak what havoc you can amongst the Empire's forces, but most of all keep the Dragon Wing from being boarded and guard our families, with your lives if you must. Understand?"
Only a moment after the scarred sailed grunted "Aye aye Stronghammer."
"What do you intend to do, Roran?" Horst grasped him by the shoulder "Look at that" he pointed Roran to the battle spread before them "You think you can alter the fate of this? You think we could? There are but a few of us, Roran, while there are thousands of them."
Roran just laughed, and met Horst's gaze "And I'll kill as many of them as it takes" he said firmly, standing toe to toe with the blacksmith "I'll change the fate of Alagaesia if I can, and if not I'll just fight until someone else changes it."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Hrothgar beat down men twice his size with his hammer, their blows bouncing off his armour, his men guarding against any attack that would be fatal.
Today was a good day.
He had met the young Rider again and spoken with him briefly, gotten to admire some of the legendary smith Rhunon's work first hand, and not just a Rider's sword but a suit of armour, and had entered into the forge of war once more and did not find himself wanting. He was perhaps not quite as agile or strong as he had been in his prime, but he still gave it to them good and took it like a dwarf.
That was all he really wanted.
With the dwarven forces here the tide had turned in the Varden's favour, they had arrived at just the right time in all honesty, a little longer and things might have been much worse, though Eragon was here.
He mused on the young Rider a while longer, he had grown, become less of a wild beast and more a man, Hrothgar was reminded of the Rider's of old, in their immeasurable wisdom and power, and while Eragon was not quite that just yet, he had become wiser, older, calmer, and all the more deadly and dangerous.
Stood clad in pitch black armour, dripping with gore, and wielding that foul Shade's sword, Hrothgar felt fear once more, but not because the Rider was a fuse ready to blow at any time, but because Eragon as he was now was wise and powerful, logical and intelligent, and cruel and vicious. He had the knowledge to lead a nation, the sadism to torture a man for forty days and night, and the knowledge to debate with scholars and philosophers.
He was all of these things… and so, Hrothgar feared, was Galbatorix.
But Hrothgar was not afraid of Eragon becoming the Black King, no, Eragon hated him more than anything else and a simple comment comparing the two would likely drive Eragon to change. And more than that he was family as well, Hrothgar's adopted son, his second one, and he felt no danger towards himself or his people, despite the joke about him being a mountain goat and Eragon then commenting on how tasty mountain goat was.
All appeared to be going well, the battle was being fought and they were, from his viewpoint, winning. The enemy would break soon, he could tell, then they would flee and what came after, well that was up to Nasuada. Whether they pursued the fleeing soldier or struck them down that they might not be a threat tomorrow was not a choice he would make, they were Nasuada's… countrymen was wrong, but close enough, while race felt a little… impersonal.
Horns sounded, and some from the Empire's camp. He readied himself for whatever foulness they would now begin, or perhaps that was the signal for the retreat, he did not think so, given that the solider before him did not waver. They were confused, but not fearful.
Then he saw it, from the horizon to the north, an ominous figure on the horizon, and rising into the lurid sky above the burning plains. He knew full well what it was, what it could only be, so in truth only relief hit him when the sun struck the figure, sending rays of red light off of its ruby like skys, and lighting up the other Rider as riding upon a ruby red steed, those scales were a very nice colour, he had to admit.
The fact that Galbatorix hatched another egg was… well, not good, by any means. But he was sure the elves had a made a proper Rider of Eragon, while any Galbatorix trained would surely be limited by the Black King's fears, and also his own lack of knowledge.
A bolt of ruby energy struck him in the chest.
It was odd, how clear that moment was. He had the clarity to admire the beauty of the ruby red energy. He bore witness to the spellcasters around him dying, as the magic wielded by the Rider overwhelmed their wards, and knew that once their deaths were done he too would fall. He felt Volund in his hand. He felt the sweat on his brow.
And in the next moment he was dying..
It was odd, dying. Hrothgar felt like someone had punched him in the heart, right in the heart, not the chest, but directly into his heart, and his hand came to grasp his breast to do… something with his injury, protect it if nothing else. His eyes locked on the ruby dragon and its Rider, and he admired once more the colour of those scales.
Then he fell.
So the next chapter should neatly wrap up Eldest, and I may have an epilogue that touches upon content in Brisingr, then fuck only knows. I expressed somewhere that I intended on taking a break once I'm done, having a look at some others fic, Torching Heaven in particular, and trying to move them along, and I maintain that.
So there will be a break following the end of this fic where the next shade isn't uploaded.
Hopefully it won't be two/four/six years.
Toodles.
