Chapter Eighteen – The Shimmering Crystals
He watched with a mixture of silence, horror and downright annoyance. 'Annoyance' may have been a tad disdainful, but that was an even more accurate description at this point in time. To have come so far, only to be held at knifepoint by a mob of distrustful men and dwarves alike. Harry shot a nasty look towards the bald-headed imbecile keeping the elf from her medicine. He declined to notice, or at least to care.
Brom had shouted the correct password, but apparently that no longer mattered. With an upheaval in security following the warning Brom had sent with Jeod's messenger, it was claimed every man, woman and child now had to be searched upon arrival.
Both physically and mentally.
"This is merely procedural," the bald man smirked, observing their discontent. "This is our home, after all, and we do not know or trust you. And only now am I being relayed a message that a band of Urgals are scampering towards the entrance, so you can understand if we are a mite cautious."
"I have no problem with caution," Brom replied angrily, "but I do insist upon Arya receiving immediate medical care. Or, would you prefer if her death was seen as happening in your care? Why, I think Islanzadi herself may deign to behead you for such a grievous error in judgment."
The bald man paled slightly at his words, but recovered quickly.
"Listen to me, and listen well, old man: your words mean nothing anymore. You are not the leader of the Varden any longer, and I will have Orik here take your tongue if I feel you are threatening me."
"By the gods, you will not!" the dwarf known as Orik exclaimed, clattering the butt of his axe on the stone below and shooting him a furious glare. "This man saved our forefathers on the direst of occasions, and now he delivers us Arya, the Elven princess believed dead! Have you truly no wit, Egraz Carn?"
"How dare you speak to me like that!" the bald man snapped, glaring daggers at his short companion.
Harry's patience was growing thin.
"Will you please take Arya to receive care and settle this like men afterwards?" Brom asked, although it was made to sound like an order.
"What did I tell you a minute ago?" the bald one asked rhetorically, shifting his gaze back once again.
That's it.
Harry reached for the wand he had stowed up his sleeve, but was beaten to the task by Saphira, who emitted a deafening roar and snapped her jaws at the obtuse little cretin threateningly. He took a step backwards, face flushed and embarrassment evident. Nobody else moved, all eyes glued to the majesty of those sapphire scales.
"Take Arya and have her healed," Brom barked at a pair of guards, who hastened to follow his instructions. "She requires Tuvinar's Nectar. Remember that if you want to keep your innards inside."
The guards hastily unstrapped the Elven princess, closely watched via the narrowed eyes of Saphira, which they tried to avoid as much as possible. A difficult task, as she followed every twitch with hawk-like precision. Brom waited until they had gently lowered her onto a makeshift stretcher and carried it through a side tunnel before speaking once again.
"Now, take us to see Ajihad."
"Now, listen here!" the bald man exclaimed angrily. "I don't care who you are, old man! No one gains access without being tested beforehand! That goes for you, and your little friends as well!"
"Who's going to test us?" Brom asked in a low, menacing voice. "You? Never this side of hell."
"I will," declared an impressive, echoing voice. The contingent of dwarves and Varden soldiers turned to where the voice had came from, whilst the bald basta- err, man, gritted his teeth in annoyance. Harry was caught off-guard by his behaviour. Surely, even with a traitor in the midst, the Varden would have been more hospitable towards Brom, of all people, an Elven princess, two people who could give unprecedented detail about the king's movements, and two new Riders?
"It's mind-boggling, truth be told," he said to Aru.
"I want to burn that man's hair off," came the reply.
"He doesn't have any," Harry blinked.
"I meant... eyes... I think."
"Don't worry, you'll get there... eventually," Harry teased.
The group watched as Angela, the witch from Teirm, finally showed herself. She seemed to almost glide across the stony floor towards them, the waterfall still pounding in their ears. The guards seemed a little unnerved by her presence, but Eragon could only smile. She may be a woman of great mystique, but she had still helped them to escape Teirm, Solembum in particular.
"It's good to see you again," he said with earnestness, giving a slight bow.
"And you," Angela said cheerfully, nodding towards him.
"Shouldn't someone be ambushing those Urgals outside?" Murtagh asked brusquely with confusion. He didn't comprehend small talk if there was work to be done. It was nothing if inefficient.
"Archers are picking them off as we speak," Orik grunted, leaning heavily on his fearsome-looking axe. "Have no fear, boy. We're safe here... well, safe enough..." he muttered darkly.
"If that is directed towards me-"
"It is directed towards you, you self-conscious little pissant," Nyos said with irritation. "Now kindly shut up and let the lady do her work."
Angela headed off the hairless aggressor before he could retort by lifting a finger for silence. It came immediately, and he furiously skulked into the shadows, appearing as nothing but a silhouette.
"Brom, as you must be aware, it is required that you are searched before gaining entry to Tronjheim," she began.
"Of course I'm aware," Brom said with indignation. "I invented the bloody rule..."
"Yes, quite. Anyway, whilst I can understand your reluctance to give away knowledge to a potential free spirit, the Varden and Dwarves do not. According to them, you must not be found withholding any details of your trek to this mountain, or they will consider you a spy."
"And how did you flout this necessity?" Brom asked with sarcasm.
"Oh, they wouldn't dare force their way into my mind. Would it could be the same for you, but I'm not the one who has been believed dead for sixteen years. No one quite knows what to make of that little escapade," Angela smiled.
"Maybe they will, in time," Brom said, shifting uncomfortably.
"I'm afraid I must know," Angela said, adapting a grave visage. "I swear not to pass along the knowledge to any but Ajihad and Hrothgar without your permission. I'm a lady of my word."
"Does that count for us all?" Harry asked apprehensively.
"If you wish it, then yes."
"I think we all do," Eragon admitted. His statement was greeted by identical nods all around. Nobody wanted their deepest secrets to be spilled like common ink. It was an invasion of privacy, and a stringent possibility for blackmail. Harry would never allow himself to be manipulated again, not after Dumbledore and his feckless guidelines. Eragon knew enough from his friend's stories to be on an identical wavelength.
"Very well. Who shall go first?"
"I will," Brom declared at once. "Also, I believe now is the time to mention Nyos does not want to stay for long. He has family in Surda, and wishes to join them as soon as possible."
Angela hesitated, a strange action on her part. "I shall speak with Ajihad about granting you some provisions if your pass your inspection, unless you would prefer to leave now, of course?"
Nyos shook his head. "No, I can wait a little longer. I have information that the Varden can use."
There were no more words spoken after that brief exchange for quite a while. Angela inspected each of their memories in turn. She was dumbfounded by some of what she found in Brom's mind, and shocked to no end when she discovered Eragon was his son, and that Murtagh was Eragon's half-brother. Brom relayed his thoughts to her, pleading for her to keep those facts secret entirely, and she rapidly complied. Causing strife amongst the two of them could end in disaster if they were becoming closely acquainted; internal and political division were problematic, to say the least.
Eragon was worried, but Angela ensured she was as gentle as possible, never delving too deeply into his mind; only as far as was needed. Eragon found her mind incredibly unusual when compared to that of everybody else he had felt thus far – it seemed endless, in a peculiar fashion, as though the knowledge contained therein was timeless in itself. He couldn't place the irregularities. He only knew they existed.
Murtagh inadvertently begged to be trusted, as he hated his own father, and she subconsciously nodded in understanding. Helping Harry steal a dragon egg would earn him love and praise from everybody united against Galbatorix. He may not believe it, but he would... eventually. Not to mention he had run away from the king, choosing to reject his evil ways and cruelty. That was only a good sign. Moreover, no person could choose their parentage, so judgement on that count was in no way just. She knew that full well.
Nyos showed his willingness to help, having announced himself to her as a turncoat. He only wanted to be with his wife and son, so she promised to help as much as possible. Once he delivered the information he would be guided to Surda, where he could make his own way, a free man. That idea made him smile. It worried her, although she would not tell him why.
Then, there was Harry.
"I've read your future, and now I must read you past," she laughed.
"My past is even more confusing," Harry grinned. "The Varden will want to know everything about me, won't they?"
"I'm afraid so. Where you come from, how you got here, and what you plan to do. I must applaud you on keeping the guards away from your wand, even if it wasn't entirely wise to conceal such a dangerous weapon from your would-be allies. Now, are you ready?"
"No."
"Good enough for me."
Harry felt his mind tingle in the most peculiar fashion as it absorbed Angela's presence. It felt as though he were consistently being pricked by a thousand needles, but in a painless manner. She spent much time sifting through his earliest memories, including time at Hogwarts, fighting against Voldemort, and everything related to the Wizarding World. She seemed to drag a fine comb across the scalp of his mind itself, and yet it never bothered him in any physical manifestation.
"What is this?" she asked with interest. "An invincible wand?"
"Something I rejected, and always shall," Harry replied.
"I am glad to hear it. This wand is more of a curse than anything."
She questioned him for what felt like hours on the numerous workings of Muggle society, including cars and trains. It was rather like explaining things to Arthur Weasley, although she actually had the ability to successfully absorb the information. Her mind was like a sponge – insatiable when it came to knowledge and information. She never once faltered, but powered ahead with great determination and care. He soon lost track of the conversations.
"I don't want to stain your opinion of him, but this 'wise' Albus Dumbledore seems like a completely nonsensical fool."
"I see now why you were so upset when learning you could never return home. She is a lovely girl."
"My deepest sympathies for losing your godfather, and so many friends..."
"It seems this 'Lord Voldemort' was as stupid as he looks, if he left his most important plans up to his merry band of incompetent folk. He could have stormed the Ministry, killed the six of you without blinking, and retrieved the prophecy without ever being seen."
And on it went.
At long last, after what must have been an hour, Angela pulled away. She looked rather flustered.
"Phew! I can see what you mean about having a confusing past. Why, I barely even scratched the surface!" she exclaimed breathlessly.
Harry took a deep breath, feeling just as exhausted as she looked. He nodded. "I hope you got what you need, Angela. Understand I wouldn't let anyone into my mind on a whim, but I trust you for some reason."
"For some reason?" she asked amusedly, switching to non-verbal speech.
"Maybe it's your noble air and uncanny ability to retain a sense of humour."
She laughed at that.
"Have you finished?" the bald man snapped. He stood there, arms folded and brow creased, looking very impatient indeed. Even Brom and the others appeared worn out, except that was inevitably due to the strains of travelling to some extent.
"Indeed we have, o bald one," Angela said with contempt. "They are not your enemies, and have proven themselves most impeccably through the stealing of both dragon eggs, not to mention killing a Ra'zac and levelling Urû'baen itself."
The pin-drop silence that followed those words was equated only by the astounded expressions each and every man, woman and dwarf in the room bore at that exact moment.
"They what?!" the bald man spluttered.
"You heard me. The capital has been completely destroyed, and they hold the third egg as we speak," Angela said with a casual determination. "If anything, I would say these men are more trustworthy than any in the entire kingdom, including Ajihad himself. They have dealt devastating blows to the Empire in recent weeks, and seek nothing but peace and justice for the people! Let it be known."
Orik was grinning broadly, and soon began to laugh. His action caused a ripple effect, which led to men and dwarves alike joining in, before the entire room was soon enveloped in a chorus of cheers and veracious laughter. This laughter washed away all doubts, enveloped all overlapping concerns for at least the present time.
A family, celebrating. That's what this is.
A family you are most welcome to, they seemed to say.
There would come a day in his life, when Harry would stop being utterly surprised by the sheer power and grandiose semblance that was magic. A day when he would accept its many perils and irregularities as the norm, when every vestige of doubt crumbles into oblivion, and the barriers of disbelief surrounding his mind collapse into the sea of time, never to be seen again.
Alas, that day was not this one, and he stood tall atop Godric, wide-eyed and bloody astounded at what he saw.
The dwarves had proved themselves master craftsmen on many occasions, it was known, but perhaps this was their uttermost achievement: a city hiding in the belly of an extinct volcano, surrounded by sheer rock at least twelve miles in height, and crowned by a single crater, so narrow from the distance that all in sight was basked in a fiery, sunset glow, bereft of true sunlight, yet reflected with an unidentified magical quality. One which could not be placed by casual eyes, but which stood firm in plain sight, imposing a distinction upon the weary that entered the colossal twin doors: this city was alive through ingenuity, and by secrecy it would remain shrouded in folklore, so well was it hidden.
Gigantic icicles adorned the crater's rim, which confirmed Harry's suspicion that the outside must be masked by swirling clouds, and lifted so high above the world that not even Saphira could fly there. It was as close to orbit as he had ever seen, and yet it was internal, not to mention the norm for the folk that stood before him, who were watching the column's advancement through the streets.
"Don't stare," Brom said, nudging him sharply. "People will think you barmy if you remain unfocused for so long."
"How can you not stare...?" Harry whispered, eyes gliding upwards once again. "Aru, we're specks of dust against the eternal backdrop of our universe. We inhabit a tiny portion of what is known, and yet now I feel older than ever I have before. This is... amazing."
"Are those," Eragon pointed upwards from Saphira, "warded by magic?"
"Yes," Angela said. "We couldn't accept the risk of any falling. The devastation would be horrific."
Without thinking, Harry removed his right glove and levelled his hand. Never blinking, he gently blew on the surface. All eyes turned as specks of dust above his palm began to glow a hugely bright green, before rocketing towards the icy crystals above. Even he, the perpetrator, was transfixed as they began to shimmer the hue of emeralds. Not breaking pace, all were soon enveloped by the wondrous change, and accompanied a purely musical note, which played out so loud and clear it brought tears to the eyes and goose-bumps to the skin.
Harry shuddered.
"What, in all the circles of hell, have I done now?"
"I... do not know," Aru whispered, transfixed by what appeared to be luminous stars of emerald hue within the very mountain itself.
Clap.
Clap, clap, clap...
A thunderous round of applause, and deafening cheers and chants from the assembled Varden warriors and civilians alike. The result of an action no one had ever seen before, and certainly it was one they would never see again. The crowd all wanted a piece of them now. Men, women and children all started raising their arms and shouting for attention, joyfully proclaiming the arrival of their saviours, yet also begging for help with innumerable matters.
"An Elegy for the Nightborn," Harry whispered, thinking of the Sun's absence.
At a funereal pace, the bald man led them through the street. Harry was certain that if this were a film or dramatic work, there would be melancholic music playing as his eyes crept from face to face, their sound switched off. Something emotional, referencing the springing of hope, yet displaying the turmoil these people lived through day-by-day. Dwarves and humans, rejoicing and lamenting as one entity, one being.
"What's happening to me?" Harry wondered mutely. "I feel... almost... poetic."
"It is the magic of dragons," Saphira replied. "Know not what has happened, but embrace it, little one. You feel different, perhaps because you are different. Different in an instant."
Seemingly hours later, they reached a massive cedar door, one bathed in black grime from ages past. It was thrust open. The group entered a lavish, two-story study furnished with cedar bookshelves, chairs and tabletops. A man who could only be Ajihad stood there, eying them intently. He was coloured a rich ebony, which appeared to briefly surprise Eragon a little. Never coming so far east, he was unaccustomed to such a stark contrast in ethnicity.
Ajihad appeared a powerful sort, with broad shoulders and bulging arm muscles. His head had been shaved bare, yet it was replaced by the trimmed beard that he bore. His claret vest was accentuated by a fine golden thread, and he stared out at them with intelligent, piercing eyes. When he spoke, his voice was deep and carrying, yet gentle by nature.
"Welcome to Tronjheim, esteemed guests. I am Ajihad."
He held out a hand for them to shake. Brom eyed it for a moment, before grinning wildly and embracing him tightly. Ajihad chuckled at the reception.
"It is good to see you again, old friend. I had feared you dead."
"And you," Brom nodded cheerfully. "So, how badly have you been taking care of my Varden?"
The group that had been assembled sat at two tables which had been pulled together, and spent many long hours swapping important tales of days gone by. Ajihad paid particular attention to Harry's, and questioned him thoroughly on his application of magic. Harry politely answered. It was best he get used to such interrogations, friendly as they may be... sometimes. To Saphira's relief, they were all thoroughly fed and watered, though she chose to loom in the background, and not approach the table. Harry shuddered at how that catastrophic scene would have played out. Aru remained next to him.
Ajihad wiped his brow and leaned back. The heat truly was stifling. "I must say, you are quite the band of merry folk. Your adventures merit songs and stories fit for the ages, but I'm afraid this is not the time for such trivia. No, this is a crisis, and we – the Varden – are asking for your help. Angela has permitted you all entry. I trust her judgement with my life itself. Will you accept our plea for aid?"
Brom rubbed his beard thoughtfully. "Hmm, I daresay we will, but there are certain conditions we require to be seen to beforehand."
Harry made no movement. They had spoken of this before Brom had shouted the password. He had told them what to say, when to say it, and when not to speak at all. That third one was of particular importance.
"Oh?" Ajihad appeared interested. "Do tell."
Brom nodded. "Very well. We require absolute secrecy pertaining to the third egg for the time being. Whilst Eragon is capable of riding Saphira and she can defend herself, caring for one youngling will be tough enough at this stage. Harry rode in here with Aru on his shoulder as an act of both fortitude and trust, but we cannot rule out the possibility of espionage from the Empire. We need your word that the egg will be protected. We cannot protect both at once."
"Of course," Ajihad said. "You need not even ask. I understand how important this is."
"Thank you, my friend. Secondly, I need your word as a man of honour that you will help me to shield Eragon and Harry. Whilst I know you cannot promise them absolute protection because of Hrothgar's influence, you must help me guard them from outside influences wherever possible. We both know how dangerous it is to play this game of politics."
Ajihad hesitated this time. "I give you that word, Brom. But it is impossible to protect them forever, as you are clearly aware."
"We make do with what we have."
"That is true enough. We've survived on very little for almost two decades. It is not your fault, as it would have happened anyway, but it is the truth. We are nothing in terms of numbers when compared with Galbatorix."
"Wrong," Harry interjected. "We're two to one now, in the most important way. And soon it'll be three."
Brom smiled. "This one will make you want to gut him before long, but he speaks with sense."
"I see," Ajihad said, raising an eyebrow. "At the very least you have the determination we strive for."
His eyes shifted over the group.
"And you, son of Morzan."
Murtagh shifted uncomfortably, though his flat gaze did not wither.
"Brom trusts you, and Angela trusts you. Therefore, I also trust you. The people here will be hesitant at first, but they will grow to love you as one of our own if you so wish it. Prove yourself, and your father will be forgotten."
"He's not my father. I hereby relinquish all terms of paternal endearment towards him, and remove all traces of heritage from him," Murtagh said confidently.
Ajihad blinked in surprise. "Such an action would make you a bastard."
"Then bastard I am, and bastard proud. Better to be such than to be the spawn of that monster."
"I admire your determination and your choice, Murtagh, son of none."
Harry hadn't been expecting that to happen. Evidently Murtagh wanted to be accepted, no matter the price. And yet, it was nary a price he cared about paying. He wanted freedom, and here he would find it.
"And what is your wish, turncoat?" Ajihad asked Nyos.
"I merely wish to leave, as soon as my task is completed."
"You know that if I let you leave, I must wipe clean your memories of our home?"
Nyos nodded. "I had guessed that, and I accept it readily."
Harry glanced at the two bald twins. The second had appeared only a few minutes ago, and now both stood together, whispering furiously. They were more identical than the Weasley twins had been, almost impossible to tell apart. Finally, one of them cleared his throat.
"Yes?" Ajihad inquired.
"I am afraid, my lord, it is not quite as simple as that. This man has travelled with these companions for quite a while now, and therefore bears knowledge of helping them flee Urû'baen with the dragon eggs. If a segment of his memory were to disappear, he would begin to question himself as to why his friends had simply vanished into thin air. For that reason, we must delete his memory up to, and including, the sacking of the capital."
Eragon spluttered incredulously. "You can't do that! Nyos is as trustworthy as any among us! He would sooner die than choose to betray our secrets!"
"It is not a question of choice," the other twin said flatly. "If the king were to discover who had betrayed him, and discover his whereabouts, he would apprehend him, and break into his mind accordingly. It does not matter how strong you are – none can resist Galbatorix."
Harry narrowed his eyes in suspicion at that choice of words.
"Brom, you can't let them do this," Eragon said flatly. "Without Nyos we would never have gotten this far, and we all know it."
Nyos rested a hand on Eragon's shoulder in a comforting manner. The younger man looked around, attempting to see through the sad, distant eyes that he wore.
"Eragon, don't worry about me. I'm a soldier, used to following orders. I understand the importance of helping this city remain secret, and won't regret the choice if it allows me to be with my family once more. If I can join them in Surda, I will-"
"Surda?" Ajihad interrupted, sitting forward suddenly. The sombre mood dropped.
"Yes, Surda. What of it?" Nyos questioned, eyebrows narrowed.
Ajihad exchanged a glance with the twins, then looked back and sighed. "There is no point in keeping the information from you. We have received word via our magicians in King Orrin's court that Galbatorix has launched a full scale assault against the entire country. He's sweeping through the countryside, torching towns and villages, before preparing to attack the cities directly. The last word we had was an hour ago. Cithrí has been destroyed."
The silence. The silence of five heartbeats stopping simultaneously.
Followed by an eruption of shouting, questions and demands as everyone jumped to their feet and began to throw around accusatory arms and words.
"Why the hell weren't we told about this?" Harry roared.
"You need to march immediately!" Nyos shouted.
"This is bloody ridiculous. You're sitting here doing nothing!" Murtagh yelled.
There was an erupting bang! Everyone turned to look at Brom, the culprit. He stood there, glaring at them all furiously.
"Listen here, you lot, and listen well. Our task is to ensure the survival of the people. The people everywhere! Including this mountain! We can't march against the royal army with a spattering band of fatigued warriors! We'll be batted aside in an instant! The reason Ajihad chose not to tell you this was for your own damned safety, got it?! Look at how you're all acting now. If he had mentioned it as soon as we had arrived, you would have been out the door again in a heartbeat, raring to go."
"And for good bloody reason!" Nyos growled. "My family is in Reavstone, if they're lucky enough to have gotten my message! Otherwise they're in the centre of Aberon!"
"Your family has been evacuated," Ajihad said calmly. "All civilians were led from their homes as soon as the news arrived. Ships are waiting to take all up the coast to Narda, where they'll be safest. It bears more neutral than anything these days."
"They have to get by Teirm first," Harry said immediately. "What if there are ships waiting in ambush?"
"A spy of ours in Teirm was able to torch their docks. Their naval capacity has been effectively neutralised. Feinster is behind on its military pay-grade, and Kuasta is nothing but a fishing town. Brom, you can testify to that."
"I can," Brom nodded. "Nyos, I am sorry. I didn't know of this either, but I do know why Ajihad neglected to mention the facts."
Nyos sat, stony-faced. Harry couldn't blame him. More secrets. He felt ready to punch someone.
"A spy in Teirm?" Eragon asked curiously. "That would be Jeod, correct?"
"Jeod is dead," Ajihad said quietly.
Harry sighed in pain, and Eragon gasped in shock. Brom hung his head, looking forlorn. Ajihad clasped him firmly on the shoulder.
"He was a good man. One we can all be proud of. With his last breath he flung a torch onto the docks, and the ships were all caught in the blaze. He had doused them with lantern oil beforehand. Which reminds me," Ajihad said, fumbling in his pocket. He brought out a glistening ring. "This is yours."
Brom took it, but did not speak for a little while. He gazed at it morosely, before clenching it tight in a fist with whitening knuckles.
"Damn you, Galbatorix!" he hissed furiously. "You'll pay for what you've done."
"He shall..." Ajihad said lowly.
In fury, Nyos rose to his feet and kicked his chair away. He stormed in the direction of the door.
"Where are you going?" Harry queried.
He paused briefly. "To scry my family and try talking with them... if they're still alive." He gave Ajihad a hate-filled glare before slamming the door behind him.
"I fear I have lost with Nyos already," Ajihad sighed, crossing his arms.
"He'll come around," Harry said uncertainly.
"If... his family... lives."
"Agreed. If they're dead, there's no telling what he might do. This could be a problem, Aru. But we have bigger matters to worry about for now. Saphira, what do you make of all this?"
"I... cannot say, Harry. If the oath-breaker king is with his men, even I could not hope to fight and win. Tooth and claw would be no match for his unholy power."
"We should ask about this," Eragon interjected. "It's too important to ignore. We have to do something, weak as we may be."
The quartet agreed unanimously.
"Brom?" Harry asked aloud.
"Yes?"
"What are our options?"
Brom frowned. "Do you want to leave?"
"No. No, this place is hope. The only hope we have left. I mean, what are our options regarding this invasion?"
"I'm afraid... they're limited, to say the least," Brom replied wearily, exchanging a glance with Ajihad. "The two of you have training to complete, and that will take more time than we have. Starting immediately is our goal. We cannot march on the king unless we desire certain death or capture."
"If we don't, he'll come for us eventually," Murtagh pointed out. "Losing the capital must have infuriated him. He won't suffer us to live any longer, except for these two," he added, motioning towards Eragon and Harry.
"The king may be almost invulnerable, but his men are not," Ajihad replied confidently. "If they attempt to storm Tronjheim, they will succeed. However, they are occupied with Surda currently, and that is no lean march from here. Galbatorix knows this. If he musters his entire force, many will die of dehydration due to the desert's heat before they arrive. Full armour is a burden to carry. And they would be severely weakened. We could cause severe damage before they overrun our defences."
"The king doesn't care about that any longer," Eragon stated. "I'd wager a month's worth of food he doesn't give a damn if every man under his command dies, so long as he controls the dragons and the egg. He'll sacrifice them on a whim to achieve his end. Besides, if he wins in the long-term, losing every single one of his men won't bother him in the slightest."
"Urû'baen was an example," Ajihad said, slightly diverting the course. "I had kept knowledge of its sacking from the people as it would inspire foolhardy actions. I cannot have people demanding we march when I know we cannot. We need the elves. Without their support, we're as good as dead already."
"So why don't we have it?" Harry asked with confusion. "Surely they know we're all in this together."
"Arya," Brom said simply.
"Precisely," Ajihad sighed. "They are a proud race, and believe our lax security led to her supposed death. I cannot tell you how fortuitous it is that you have returned her to us. With any luck they will now return to being helpful."
"But you can't contact them from here?" Eragon asked.
"No. Their wards prevent it. We must escort her there directly when she regains her health."
"How is she?" Murtagh asked.
"Still asleep, although the doctors have administered the antidote for her condition. It will be some time before she wakes, so do not worry too much. I shall let you know when she stirs."
"Back to business," Harry said, causing Brom to give a small smile. "Have you placed scouts in Surda?"
"Of course we have," Ajihad replied somewhat stiffly, raising an eyebrow. "They are our allies. Orrin knows we cannot send men to help, and it would do no good even if we could, but we are helping with the evacuations and in keeping an eye on the situation."
"What use is there in that?" Murtagh scoffed. "Watching will accomplish nothing if you don't act."
Ajihad's face hardened. He was not a man to be trifled with, and although he appreciated suggestions from those around him, he disliked impunity. He may have openly stated his trust for Murtagh, but that didn't mean the young man could get away with anything he so desired.
"Murtagh, the king's order of enforced conscription will have gone through by now," Brom explained carefully. "And if he is directly leading that army, then there is nothing we can do to help. Orrin accepts that, and so must we."
"And if it gets worse..." Eragon said lowly.
"What do you mean?" Ajihad asked sharply.
"I'll tell you about that later, in private," Brom intervened. Ajihad was the only man he trusted with regards to the information Harry and Murtagh had discovered.
"Do all of you know about this?" Ajihad asked.
"Yes."
"Then there's no need to wait. You two," he said, looking at the twins, "get out."
Furiously, the two bald men skulked away. Brom cast wards around the room, ensuring they would not be caught out by eavesdropping. When that was done, he began a tactical relay of the land's defences. It was important that he emphasised the vulnerability of the Varden before delivering the sucker punch. He referred to the shortness of numbers they already bore, and how any outside force would be overwhelming in stature.
"Outside force? What are you talking about? There are no people outside of Alagaësia, so far as we are aware," Ajihad declared with slight confusion.
Harry and Murtagh exchanged a look.
"The king is more adapt than anybody else with regards to magic," Brom explained. "He has discovered things... and places..."
"Another land?" Ajihad spluttered, sitting upright immediately. "Tell me, damn it!"
"When we sacked Urû'baen we discovered a map in the king's quarters," Harry said. "It included land stretching far beyond the Beors and Du Weldenvarden, big enough to mirror or even eclipse the population of Alagaësia. It included a missive, regarding soldiers arriving as support for the king."
Ajihad was shocked, and promptly collapsed back into his seat. He sighed deeply, and suddenly looked centuries old. Harry knew it as the fatigue of one who is staring defeat in the face, but refusing to give up nonetheless.
"This is impossible," Ajihad said, shaking his head in disbelief. "How could another country exist without either of us discovering each other?"
"We... we've thought about that... and we've come to the conclusion it's the king's doing. We believe he is either allied with their leader, or holding them at bay by holding the power of the Riders over their heads," Brom declared.
"But the Riders are gone! Surely they wouldn't just take him at his word?"
"They don't have to, so long as he has Shruikan. He can easily frighten them away by unveiling that dark terror, and that's all the proof that they need. If he has an agreement with their leader not to cross into each others' borders, then it makes sense no one has ever heard of them before. And I'm sure the desert has stopped random wanderers from encountering one another. Has anyone ever crossed from one end to the other?"
Brom shook his head. "Not that I am aware, although we can assume the king has done so..."
Ajihad clasped his hands together irately. "How do I fight a threat I have never seen, and cannot even measure? Please explain that to me."
"Alas, I cannot," Brom said morosely, spreading his arms.
"I can think of a way," Harry said, raising a forefinger. "It won't be easy, but there really isn't any other choice. It's a spell known as the Fidelius Charm, which protects any location the caster chooses."
"Wards won't do any good!" Ajihad exclaimed impatiently. "The king will smash them down with a flick of his finger!"
"The Fidelius Charm is more powerful than anything you have ever seen," Harry said calmly. "It essentially cloaks the object of the spell from all who don't know the 'secret'. For example, let's say I use it on this room. Even though you know how to find it already, you would forget. I would have to give its location to a Secret Keeper, who would be the only person able to tell anyone where it is. I could also hold it myself if I wanted to."
"That's brilliant!" Ajihad exclaimed, grinning. "So even if the king knows how to find us, he would forget?"
"Exactly."
"Ingenious! Brom, I see what you mean about this young man having wisdom."
"Ah, it's nothing," Harry muttered sheepishly, waving a hand absent-mindedly.
"Subtle," Murtagh said, amused.
Brom was frowning, however.
"What is it?" Harry asked.
"Hmm... I'm not sure if this is such a good idea. If what you're saying is correct, no one would be able to locate the city again, correct?"
"Apart from those I choose to tell, yes. But don't worry – everyone in the city is excluded from the magic unless they leave. Nothing adverse will happen."
"But what of the traitor?"
"Only the Secret Keeper can divulge the location, so there would be nothing to fear."
"There's another problem," Brom continued. "Galbatorix has fallen for this trick once before. Elven cities are shielded from his vision. There is every possibility he has taken this into consideration and set in place safeguards to prevent it from happening again, both for himself and amongst his army."
Harry frowned. It was possible, of course. And if true, it was a royal pain in the ass. That spell could very well save their lives if employed correctly. Of course, he still had no idea how to cast it and would have to spend time figuring out the complexities of the magic, a fact he repeated aloud.
"Also, my magic may override those safeguards. We can't really know for sure."
"Maybe I should leave you to it, then," Ajihad declared, standing upright. "I shall have Orik show the three of you – or five of you, I should say – to your rooms. Your friend can be directed when he returns, and I need to speak with Brom."
Brom nodded, rolling his eyes at Harry's inquisitive look. "I promise we will discuss everything important amongst ourselves afterwards. No secrets."
"You're damned right about that," Harry said firmly, pointing a finger at him. "In fact, you may call that our third condition. If we're to stay here we want to be trusted enough to be let into the 'adult discussions'."
"You will be, after a time," Ajihad said, measuring Harry's mental physique silently. "I may trust you, but some of my compatriots will not warm to you so quickly. They are a suspicious kind, and I daresay you would all do well to remember that fact. Goodnight to you all."
"I believe we should reconsider our present situation," Brom said, blowing a plume of smoke across the room. The fire crackled nearby.
"I believe... you are correct," Ajihad said determinably. "Without Orrin we lose all supply routes. It's a major problem."
"How long can you hold out?"
"Here, in the mountains?"
Brom nodded, the firelight reflected in his eyes.
"Not for very long, at any rate," Ajihad sighed. "The dwarves will offer their full support, but Hrothgar will want to meet the Riders beforehand. Du Vrangr Gata will also attempt to influence them, and the twins..."
Brom raised his pipe threateningly. "I don't want those bald-headed bastards anywhere near any of them, got it? They're to stay as far away as possible at all times, or they'll have me to deal with."
"I guess it's a good thing they fear you," Ajihad grinned. "You've not changed at all, old man."
"Yes, I have," Brom murmured. "In more ways than you can imagine. I just... try not to show it as often as I might. But those two kids have had more of an influence on me than I ever would have expected."
"It won't be a problem, will it?" came the alarmed reply.
Brom hesitated. "No. No, I'm still the same. Mostly. But I won't ask you for command of the Varden. It's your burden now, and I have to continue teaching the two of them for as long as possible."
"Do you intend to give them any outright responsibility?"
"Of course I do! Harry can become a master tactician, and has experience with guerilla warfare. We should include them all in our war briefings. But... they need to learn in more ways than one. Leadership also. In fact... I have an idea," Brom smirked, eyes glinting. "Harry will hate it, but I think it's for the best."
"This place is incredible," Murtagh exclaimed. "It must be the work of magic."
The five of them currently occupied a huge cave resting on the dragonhold, at least sixty feet in diameter and possibly seventy or even eighty. It was elegantly carved through fine artisanship, each wall bearing the entrance to potentially dozens of other chambers, some as large as houses and others only several feet in length, merely alcoves. These walls were shaped from marble and inlaid with numerous rungs, allowing the occupants to reach even the tallest caves whenever desired. But perhaps the most impressive attribute was the floor itself; a massive, majestic sapphire, so colossal Harry knew it to be worth trillions upon trillions of Galleons. It threw the entire surrounding area into an omnipresent blue hue, and was the trademark of the dwarf who Orik told them had crafted it.
Isidar Mithrim, it was named, eclipsing all in grandeur and surpassed by none in beauty. It was truly breathtaking, and yet slightly disconcerting also. A mile below the floor lay the massive central chamber of Tronjheim, so none of them liked to think what would happen if the gem were to smash beneath their feet. Still, Orik had assured them no amount of weight would damage or destabilise the crystal, and Murtagh had still insisted upon staying with his friends. They had much to discuss together, and besides that he didn't trust the Varden yet, and no one could blame him. The room aside, he had been particularly vocal regarding their hospitality.
Somehow, without really thinking, Harry conjured a relatively comfortable sofa for the three of them to sit at. It caused him to blink in surprise. It looked much better than anything he had ever conjured before, and curved around into a makeshift 'U', so that all three could sit and occupy a different length.
"Impressive," Murtagh noted appreciatively.
"Thanks," Harry nodded. "I think we should probably all agree to be careful regarding strangers in the city. Eragon, if I hadn't realised your mistake just now, you would have cursed that child by accident."
Eragon scratched his head sheepishly. "I won't be doing anything like that again, I swear it. And if I ever do have to, I will refuse until I have the correct words memorised."
"Don't worry too much. If you had cast the spell we'd be in a lot of trouble, though."
"Then I thank you for stopping me."
Harry nodded slowly. Their conversation died down for a little while, and all three were occupied by the flames dancing in the fire they had created. It was warming, but not heart-warming. A chill that could not be repressed had slithered its way down Harry's spine, and the imprint could not be erased. He felt both worried and determined.
"It's... it's all gone to hell, hasn't it?" he whispered.
Murtagh gave a silent nod. "It... it seems like only yesterday I was being told by the king himself how great his vision for the land was, and now... now he'll destroy it all."
"There's no way we can stop him when we're this weak," Eragon added. "We need help. If Surda is destroyed all hope is lost. We have to stop him... somehow."
"We'll find a way," Harry promised. "Firstly I need to figure out how to tell four thousand human souls about the spell I intend to cast in case we ever need to leave, and I don't have any idea how the dwarves will react to the magic. If other races aren't affected it won't stop Urgals from marching in here and slaughtering everyone in sight."
"Is there any way to test the theory?" Murtagh asked, brow creased.
"There may be. I guess I could try to conceal a small room and see how Orik reacts to the charm, but I don't want to put him in any danger," Harry said thoughtfully, gazing at the sparkling floor.
"Well, we can always try that tomorrow. For now, I think we all need to rest," Eragon said, knowing full well none of them would sleep tonight.
Murtagh grinned and ignored the suggestion. "Well, it's a shame you can't split into multiple people or get help from any servants," he told Harry.
Harry chuckled, before stopping dead. His eyes widened in pure shock, self-loathing and recognition of self-stupidity all in one, before he rose to his feet with the drum-roll of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. His face lost all colour, even when being fanned by the warming flames below him, and his hands began to visibly shake.
"H-Harry, what's wrong?" Murtagh asked, alarmed.
Harry couldn't even speak. He felt like slicing off a hand for his own idiocy. After all the bloody months he had spent lamenting his own misfortune, before finally coming to terms with his own permanent departure from the Wizarding World, he hadn't considered the most obvious possibility. His apparition was gone, courtesy of Durza. But that didn't mean...
He cleared his throat, before uttering, in a shaky breath:
"Kreacher?"