Whoo! Forty-three! Yeah! And this one's gonna be an exciting chapter, too! And long… so long…
XD
Tania! Tania, wake up!
Tania started. What? she asked.
I don't know, said Eragon's voice, but Ajihad's summoned us. You should probably ride Saphira.
What's going on? asked Ophelia sleepily, raising her head as Tania slipped out from under her wings and dressed hurriedly.
Ajihad, something bad, probably something to do with Urgals, Tania growled. So much for a good night's sleep.
Ophelia yawned widely, then stood and rapped her tail on her snout to wake herself up. Then let's get moving. You are riding Saphira? she asked slightly grumpily.
Unfortunately; but you should come.
I will.
Tossing her bow and quiver over her shoulder, Tania quickly scrambled down the cliff to where Eragon and Saphira were waiting. Even as she was strapping her legs to the saddle, Saphira took off, Ophelia close behind.
Orik was waiting for them with a grim expression at Tronjheim's gates. "Come, the others are waiting." He led them through Tronjheim to Ajihad's study. On the way, Eragon and Tania both piled him with questions—Eragon more so than Tania—but Orik would only say, "I don't know enough myself—wait until you hear Ajihad."
The large study door was opened by a pair of burly guards. Ajihad stood behind his desk, bleakly inspecting a map. Arya and a man with wiry arms were there as well. Ajihad looked up. "Good, you're here. Meet Jörmundur, my second in command."
They acknowledged each other as Ophelia shifted her scales to black streaked with ferocious-looking red, then turned their attention to Ajihad. "I roused the seven of you because we are all in grave danger. About half an hour ago a dwarf ran out of an abandoned tunnel under Tronjheim. He was bleeding and nearly incoherent, but he had enough sense left to tell the dwarves what was pursuing him: an army of Urgals, maybe a day's march from here."
Shocked silence filled the study. Then Jörmundur swore explosively and began asking questions at the same time Orik did. Arya remained silent, and Tania carefully observed the proceedings, noticing Eragon doing the same. Ajihad raised his hands. "Quiet! There is more. The Urgals aren't approching over land, but under it. They're in the tunnels… we're going to be attacked from below."
Eragon raised his voice in the din that followed. "Why didn't the dwarves know about this sooner? How did the Urgals find the tunnels?"
"We're lucky to know about it this early!" bellowed Orik. Everyone stopped talking to hear him. "There are hundreds of tunnels throughout the Beor Mountains, uninhabited since the day they were mined. The only dwarves who go in them are eccentrics who don't want contact with anyone. We could have just as easily received no warning at all."
Ajihad pointed at the map, and Tania moved closer with Eragon. The map depicted the entire southern half of Alagaësia, showing the entire Beor Mountain range in detail. Ajihad's finger was on the section of the Beor Mountains that touched Surda's eastern border. "This," he said, "is where the dwarf claimed to have come from."
"Orthíad!" exclaimed Orik. At Jörmundur's puzzled inquiry, he explained, "It's an ancient dwelling of ours that was deserted when Tronjheim was completed. During its time it was the greatest of our cities. But no one's lived there for centuries."
"And it's old enough for some of the tunnels to have collapsed," said Ajihad. "That's how we surmise it was discovered from the surface. I suspect that Orthíad is now being called Ithrö Zhâda. That's where the Urgal column chasing Eragon, Tania, Ophelia and Saphira were supposed to go, and I'm sure it's where the Urgals have been migrating all year. From Ithrö Zhâda they can travel anywhere they want in the Beor Mountains. They have the power to destroy both the Varden and the dwarves."
Jörmundur bent over the map, eyeing it carefully. "Do you know how many Urgals there are? Are Galbatorix's troops with them? We can't plan a defense without knowing how large their army is."
Ajihad replied unhappily, "We're unsure about both those things, yet our survival rests on that last question. If Galbatorix has augmented the Urgals' ranks with his own men, we don't stand a chance. But if he hasn't—because he still doesn't want his alliance with the Urgals revealed, or for some other reason—it's possible we can win. Neither Orrin nor the elves can help us at this late hour. Even so, I sent runners to both of them with news of our plight. At the very least they won't be caught by surprise if they fall."
He drew a hand across his coal-black brow. "I've already talked with Hrothgar, and we've decided on a course of action. Our only hope is to contain the Urgals in three of the larger tunnels and channel them into Farthen Dûr so they don't swarm inside like locusts." He turned to Tania, an unreadable expression set on his face. "Now is the time to decide, Tania and Ophelia. Will you fight with us?"
Carefully shifting her own features to hide her thoughts, Tania considered it. Ophelia?
The dragoness shifted. If we fight with them today, we are officially committing ourselves to the campaign against Galbatorix, she said, and it is doubtful we would be able to untangle ourselves from that loyalty. However, if we do not fight, it is likely Tronjheim, the dwarves and the Varden will fall. Really it is a choice between freedom and honor, not whether or not we should fight.
What do you want to do?
Ophelia paused, then said, I want to fight beside my sister-of-skies, and I wish to tear apart the ranks of Galbatorix until their blood soaks the ground.
Good. "We will fight alongside you," Tania told the room softly. Ajihad nodded, pleased.
"Then I need the three of you, Tania, Eragon and Arya, to help the dwarves collapse extraneous tunnels. The job is too big for normal means. Two groups of dwarves are already working on it: one outside Tronjheim, the other beneath it. Eragon, Tania, you're to work with the group outside. Arya, you'll be with the one underground; Orik will guide you to them."
"Why not collapse all the tunnels instead of leaving the large ones untouched?" asked Eragon. Tania flicked her gaze around the room, half-wondering the same thing.
"Because," said Orik, "that would force the Urgals to clear away the rubble, and they might decide to go in a direction we don't want them to. Plus, if we cut ourselves off, they could attack other dwarf cities—which we wouldn't be able to assist in time."
"There's also another reason," said Ajihad. "Hrothgar warned me that Tronjheim was on such a dense network of tunnels that if too many are weakened, sections of the city will sink into the ground under their own weight. We can't risk that."
Jörmundur listened intently, then asked, "So there won't be any fighting inside Tronjheim? You said the Urgals would be channeled outside the city, into Farthen Dûr."
Ajihad responded quickly. "That's right. We can't defend Tronjheim's entire perimeter—it's too big for our forces—so we're going to seal all the passageways and gates leading into it. That will force the Urgals out onto the flats surrounding Tronjheim, where there's plenty of maneuvering room for our armies. Since the Urgals have access to the tunnels, we cannot risk an extended battle. As long as they are here, we will be in constant danger of them quarrying up through Tronjheim's floor. If that happens, we'll be trapped, attacked from both the outside and inside. We have to prevent the Urgals from taking Tronjheim. If they secure it, it's doubtful we will have the strength to roust them."
"And what of our families?" asked Jörmundur. "I won't see my wife and son murdered by Urgals."
The lines deepened on Ajihad's face. "All the women and children are being evacuated into the surrounding valleys. If we are defeated, they have guides who will take them to Surda. That's all I can do, under the circumstances."
Jôrmundur struggled to hide his relief. "Sir, is Nasuada going as well?"
"She is not pleased, but yes." All eyes were on Ajihad as he squared his shoulders and announced, "The Urgals will arrive in a matter of hours. We know their numbers are great, but we must hold Farthen Dûr. Failure will mean the dwarves' downfall, death to the Varden—and eventual defeat for Surda and the elves. This is one battle we cannot lose. Now go and complete your tasks! Jörmundur, ready the men to fight."
They left the city and scattered: Jörmundur to the barracks, Orik and Arya to the stairs leading underground, and Eragon, Tania, Saphira and a camouflaged Ophelia down one of Tronjheim's four main halls. Despite the earily hour, the city-mountain swarmed like and anthill, causing Ophelia to watch her step and duck under Saphira's wing so as not to step on anyone. People were running, shouting messages, and carrying bundles of belongings.
Tania had been in the thick of danger before, and had often killed for survival, but the battle that awaited would be different. This wasn't just a wolf that was trying to steal her meal, or a deer that she had to bring down for one, this was a full onslaught of slaughter, death and pain.
Growling faintly, she forced the nervousness out of her mind, focusing instead on the colored veins running through the rock underneath her. She knew that thinking about the battle too much would make her too nervous to fight, and focusing on something else was more interesting anyway.
Battle-jitters? asked Ophelia half-jokingly.
Yes, don't bring them back, Tania replied with unintentional sharpness. She sighed. Sorry.
No, I understand. Saphira says Eragon is nervous as well, and he has more experience fighting Urgals than you do.
That does not mean he has a lot, Tania pointed out.
This is true, the dragon said thoughtfully. But I do not think you and I will be in the thick of the battle; you are better with bow than sword, not that you have one to use, anyway, and my scales will be able to hide you—we will be the unseen death from above.
Hmm… perhaps.
They were silent as they exited Tronjheim and looked for the dwarves they were supposed to help. Without the sun or moon, the inside of Farthen Dûr was dark and a lampblack, punctuated by glittering lanterns bobbing jerkily in the crater. Perhaps they're on the far side of Tronjheim, suggested Saphira.
If they are, let me know, said Ophelia, I'm going to get my saddle. Without waiting for an answer, she slipped out from under Saphira's wing and took off as quietly as she could, spiraling upward around the city-mountain. Tania sighed and swung into Saphira's saddle behind Eragon.
They glided around Tronjheim until Tania pointed out a clump of lanterns, sending a shaft of thought to Ophelia to let the dragoness know where they were going. Saphira angled toward them, then with no more than a whisper landed beside a group of startled dwarves who were busy digging with pickaxes. Eragon quickly explained why they were there. A sharp-nosed dwarf told them, "There's a tunnel about four yards directly underneath us. Any help you could give would be greatly appreciated."
"If you clear the area over the tunnel, we'll see what we can do." The sharp-nosed dwarf looked doubtful, but ordered the diggers off the sight.
Tania carefully walked the length of their side of the perimeter, observing the way the rock and dirt dipped and shifted, then gathered up her magic, stretching tendrils of her mind into the rock, searching down through the stone, into the hollowness of the tunnel, seeking out flaws in the rock. There were quite a few. Taking a deep breath, she released some of her magic, muttering, "Thrysta deloi," in a low voice.
Every time she found a crack, she pushed on it, elongating and widening it. It was strenuous work, but no more than it would have been to split the stone by hand. Occasionally she brushed against Eragon's consciousness as he worked at the rock. They made no visible progress—a fact that was not lost on the impatient dwarves.
The Riders persevered. Before long they were rewarded by a resounding crack that could be heard clearly on the surface. There was a persistent screech, then the ground slid inward like water draining from its container, leaving a gaping hole seven yards across.
As the delighted dwarves walled off the tunnel with rubble, the sharp-nosed dwarf led Tania and Eragon to the next tunnel, even as Tania felt Ophelia gliding overhead, the saddle clutched in her claws. The camouflaged dragon landed by the tunnel, merging into the rocks around her as the Riders got to work. This one was more difficult to collapse, but they managed to duplicate their feat. Over the next few hours, they collapsed over a half-dozen tunnels throughout Farthen Dûr, with Saphira's and Ophelia's help.
Light crept into the small patch of sky above them as they worked. It was not enough to see by, but Tania could see that is bolstered Eragon's confidence immensely. Tania shook some of the stray strands of hair from her face, surveying the land with interest.
A mass exodus of women and children, along with the Varden's elders, streamed out of Tronjheim. Everyone carried loads of provisions, clothes, and belongings. A small group of warriors, predominantly boys and old men, accompanied them.
Most of the activity, however, was at the base of Tronjheim, where the Varden and dwarves were assembling their army, which was divided into three battalions. Each section bore the Varden's standard: a white dragon holding a rose above a sword pointing down on a purple field.
The men were silent, ironfisted. Their hair flowed loosely from under their helmets. Many warriors had only a sword and a shield, but there were several ranks of spear- and pikemen. In the rear of the battalions, archers tested their bowstrings.
The dwarves were garbed in heavy battle gear. Burnished steel hauberks hung to their knees, and thick roundshields, stamped with the crest of their clan, rested on their left arms. Short swords were sheathed at their waists, while in their right hands they carried mattocks or war axes. Their legs were covered with extra-fine chain mail. They wore iron caps and brass-studded boots.
A small figure detached itself from the far battalion and hurried toward the Dragon Riders. It was Orik, clad like the other dwarves. "Ajihad wants you to join the army," he said. "There are no more tunnels to cave in. Food is waiting for the four of you."
Eragon, Tania, Saphira and Ophelia accompanied Orik to a tent, where they found bread and water for Tania and Eragon and a pile of dried meat for Ophelia and Saphira. They ate it without complaint; it was better than going hungry.
When they finished, Orik told them to wait and disappeared into the battalion's ranks. He returned, leading a line of dwarves burdened with tall piles of plate armor. Orik lifted a section of it and handed it to Eragon, then gave another to Tania.
"What is it?" asked Eragon, fiddling with his piece. Tania fingered the metal in her hands, which was a dark, burnished bronze, with two slanted oval-shaped holes on either side and copper filigree, engraved with twisting flames. It's shape was both foreign and familiar. Ophelia bent her head down to nose it.
"Dragon armor!" Tania suddenly exclaimed. Orik nodded, looking pleased.
"A gift from Hrothgar. We were unable to find two whole sets—the one you are holding now is the headpiece of a half-finished assortment, as there are only a few other pieces of it we could find—but if you wish to use your camouflage, Ophelia, this is probably the best set for you. They should fit reasonably well."
Dragon armor! As Saphira nosed one of the pieces, Eragon asked, What do you think?
Let's try it on, the blue dragoness replied, a fierce gleam in her eye.
After a good deal of struggling, Eragon, Orik and Tania stepped back to admire the results. Saphira's entire neck—except for the spikes along her ridge—was covered with triangular scales of overlapping armor. Her belly and chest were protected by the heaviest plates, while the lightest ones were on her tail. Her legs and back were completely encased, while her wings were left bare. A single molded plate, close to identical to the piece Tania had held, lay on top of her head, leaving her lower jaw free to bite and snap.
Ophelia's armor was more lightly donned. She had the headpiece, while most of her back and some of her neck were covered in dark bronze plates, her tail had skinny, leaf-shaped panels overlapping both each other and her tail spikes along the ridge of it, and her talons were covered by bronze gauntlets, adding a larger, sharper claw over her own. Her legs, belly, throat, undertail and wings were unprotected, but she could move easier than Saphira. The dark color of the metal allowed her to blend in easily with the dark stone walls around them, only given away by her metallic eyes and the faint gleam of light on the armor.
Saphira arched her neck experimentally, and the armor flexed smoothly with her. Ophelia twisted her head around, admiring the line of dark bronze rippling down her spine and over her back. How do I look? she asked Tania.
Terrifyingly beautiful, Tania replied truthfully. That pleased her.
Orik picked up the remaining items from the ground. "I brought you both armor as well, though it took much searching to find your size. We rarely forge arms for men or elves, and even rarer for women, Tania, though I found one set, made for a female Rider before the fall, that should fit you. I don't know who yours was made for, Eragon, but it had never been used and should serve you well."
Over Tania's head went a weighty but flexible shirt of leather and mail that was barely larger than her tunic, and fell just short of it. It rested heavily on her shoulders and clinked slightly when she moved. Orik handed her a wide leather belt, and she attached her knife's sheath to it, then buckled it around her waist. Over her head went a leather hood, then a mail coif. Bracers were strapped to her forearms, and greaves to her lower legs. For her hands there were light, silvery mail-backed gloves. Last, Orik handed her a black cloak lined with mail that fell to her hips, with a dark cowl, and a flap on her right shoulder where she could easily reach her arrows.
Knowing that what they had been given was worth several fortunes, the Riders bowed as Eragon said, "Thank you for these gifts. Hrothgar's presents are greatly appreciated."
"Don't give thanks now," said Orik with a chuckle. "Wait until it saves your life."
The warriors around them began marching away. The three battalions were repositioning themselves in different parts of Farthen Dûr. Unsure of what to do, Tania and Eragon looked at Orik, who shrugged and said, "I suppose we should accompany them." They trailed behind a battalion as it headed toward the crater wall. Eragon asked about the Urgals, but Orik only knew that scouts had been posted underground in the tunnels and that nothing had been seen or heard yet.
The battalion halted at one of the collapsed tunnels. The dwarves had piled the rubble so that anyone inside the tunnel could easily climb out. This must be one of the places they're going to force the Urgals to surface, Saphira pointed out.
Hundreds of lanterns were fixed atop poles and stuck into the ground. They provided a great pool of light that glowed like an evening sun. Fires blazed along the tunnel's roof, huge cauldrons of pitch heating over them. Tania wrinkled her nose at both the disgusting scent and their eventual use. It was a terrible way to kill anyone, even an Urgal—though she wouldn't mind pouring a pot of it onto Galbatorix's filthy head.
Rows of sharpened saplings were being pounded into the ground to provide a thorny barrier between the battalion and the tunnel. Eragon and Tania saw an opportunity to help and joined a group of men digging trenches between the saplings. Tania ignored the dubious looks cast her way, which were soon lost as she dug just as deep and wide as any of them. Saphira and Ophelia assisted as well, scooping out the dirt with their giant claws. While they labored, Orik left to supervise the construction of a barricade to shield the archers. Both Tania and Eragon drank gratefully—though Tania somewhat reluctantly—from the wineskin whenever it was passed around. After the trenches were finished and filled with pointed stakes, the dragons and their Riders rested, Ophelia curling under Saphira's large wing, which further hid her from view.
Orik returned to find them seated together. He wiped his brow. "All the men and dwarves are on the battlefield. Tronjheim has been sealed off. Hrothgar has taken charge of the battalion to our left, and Ajihad leads the one ahead of us."
"Who commands this one?" asked Eragon.
"Jörmundur." Orik sat with a grunt and placed his war ax on the ground.
Saphira nudged Eragon. Look. Tania's eyes widened in surprise and smiled as she saw Murtagh, helmed, carrying a dwarven shield and his hand-and-a-half sword, approaching with Tornac.
Orik cursed and leapt to his feet, but Murtagh said quickly, "It's all right; Ajihad released me."
"Why would he do that?" demanded Orik.
Murtagh smiled wryly. "He said this was a good opportunity to prove my good intentions. Apparently, he doesn't think I would be able to do much damage even if I did return to the Varden."
Tania snorted. "One man against the whole of the Varden. Yes, I do think he was right." Murtagh grinned at her. Eragon nodded in welcome.
"How do we know you're not lying?" asked Orik.
"Because I say so," announced a firm voice. Ajihad strode into their midst, armed for battle with a breastplate and an ivory-handled sword. He put a strong hand on Eragon's shoulder, beckoned to Tania—who raised an eyebrow, but followed—and drew them away where the others could not hear. He cast an eye over the Riders' armor. "Good, Orik outfitted you."
"Yes… has anything been seen in the tunnels?" Eragon asked.
"Nothing." Ajihad leaned on his sword. "One of the Twins is staying in Tronjheim. He's going to watch the battle from the dragonhold and relay information through his brother to me. I know you can speak with your minds. I need you to tell the Twins anything, anything, unusual that you see while fighting. Also, I'll relay orders to you through them. Tania, you do not have to be directly connected to them, as they do not know of Ophelia, but you must tell Eragon if you see anything out of the ordinary. Do you understand?"
Tania dipped her head. "We do."
Ajihad paused. "You're not foot soldiers or horsemen, nor any other type of warrior I'm used to commanding. Tania, you and Ophelia are our eyes from above. Battle may prove differently, but I think Eragon and Saphira, will be safer on the ground. In the air, you'll be a choice target for Urgals archers. Will you fight from Saphira's back?"
Tania knew Eragon had never been in combat on horseback, much less on Saphira. "I'm not sure what we'll do. When I'm on Saphira, I'm up too high to fight all but a Kull."
"There will be plenty of Kull, I'm afraid," said Ajihad. He straightened, pulling his sword from out of the ground. "The only advice I can give you is to avoid unnecessary risks. The Varden cannot afford to lose either of you." With that, he turned and left.
Tania and Eragon returned to Orik and Murtagh, Tania settling herself between Ophelia and Saphira, scanning the land like she'd taught herself to, unsurprised to find Arya sitting about thirty feet away with her bow on her lap. She wondered how Eragon would react when he finally noticed the she-elf, wrinkling her nose with distaste as she knew he would act foolish.
Again.
The six of them waited in silence like the hundreds of warriors around them. Light from Farthen Dûr's opening waned as the sun crept below the crater rim.
At last Tania noticed Eragon turn to survey the encampment, freezing as he saw Arya. Tania sighed to herself irritatedly as he stood and hastened to her. They exchanged words, Arya's face darkening at a few of his, then turning away uneasily as he said something else. The Rider abruptly retreated to Saphira.
Murtagh looked at him curiously. "What did she say?"
"Nothing."
Tania pursed her lips shrewdly, giving him a sharp look, but said nothing, only wondering when he would learn to stop underestimating women. Wrapped in their own thoughts, the defenders sank into a brooding silence as the hours crawled by. Farthen Dûr's crater again grew black, except for the sanguine lantern glow and the fires heating the pitch. Tania sat cross-legged, Ophelia's right forearm on her left and Saphira's left arm on her right, balanced and relaxed, watching the land, observing the troops, as she used to watch the forest when she was waiting for a deer or rabbit to pass into her sight. She saw Eragon alternate between myopically examining the links of his mail and spying on Arya; Orik repeatedly running a whetstone over the blade of his ax with an irritating sound, periodically eyeing the edge between strokes, and Murtagh just staring into the distance.
Occasionally, messengers ran through the encampment, causing the warriors to surge to their feet. But it always proved to be a false alarm. The men and dwarves became strained; angry voices were often heard. The worst part about Farthen Dûr was the lack of wind—the air was dead, motionless. Even when it grew warm and stifling and filled with smoke, there was no reprieve. Tania felt it especially, coming from a place where there was often snow eight months out of a year.
As the night dragged on, the battlefield stilled, silent as death. Muscles stiffened from the waiting. Tania watched the darkness with sharp eyes, barely able to see the craggy walls of the mountain, her eyelids heavy.
Finally Orik said, "It's late. We should sleep. If anything happens, the others will wake us." Tania smiled slightly as Murtagh grumbled, but his brother, too tired to complain, curled up against Saphira's right side, using his shield as a pillow. Arya stayed awake, watching over them. Tania sighed, nestling against Ophelia's camouflaged side, using the dragoness's shoulder as a headrest.
Her dreams, at first relivings of her time in the woods, soon turned to apocalyptic nightmares, filled with flaming forests and evil shadows. Over and over, Ophelia was slaughtered before Tania's eyes, and a tiny red dragon wailed through it all. Plagued by these visions, real sleep was hard to come by, until something gently touched her shoulder.
Her eyes snapped open, startled by Murtagh crouched barely a foot away from her. "Come on," he said, offering a hand. Tania took it as he continued, "A scout ran out of a tunnel a few minutes ago. The Urgals are coming."
Tania saw Arya had nocked an arrow, holding it ready to shoot, and grabbed her own bow from where it rested against Ophelia's arm. Together they watched the dark mouth of the tunnel through the ranks of men and sharpened stakes. A minute dragged by, then another… and another. Without taking his eyes from the tunnel, Eragon hoisted himself into Saphira's saddle, Zar'roc in his hand. His brother mounted Tornac beside him. Then a man cried, "I hear them!"
The warriors stiffened; grips tightened on weapons. No one moved… no one breathed. Somewhere a horse nickered.
Harsh Urgal shouts shattered the air as dark shapes boiled upward in the tunnel's opening. At a command, the cauldrons of pitch were tilted on their sides, pouring the scalding liquid into the tunnel's hungry throat. The monsters howled in pain, arms flailing. A torch was thrown onto the bubbling pitch, and an orange pillar of greasy flames roared up in the opening, engulfing the Urgals in an inferno.
Over. Four. Thousand. Words. Almost five thousand.
No.
Just no.
But please review ;)
FF
PS: Lots of mail in this one, isn't there? Think it's fanmail? XD