A:N - A quick note regarding my name change. Don't panic - it's still me writing. I just decided to switch to my real first name and following initials. I think it looks better is all. I didn't notice until last week it was five years last month since I joined this site. I can hardly believe it. Five whole years. How better to celebrate than to keep writing? So, here you go!

Chapter Nineteen – Arya and Trianna

Harry sucked in his breath, willing his heart to cease fluttering but for a moment. His attempts were unsuccessful. This was an impossible notion. His heart would not be controlled, could not be denied. It swayed and bobbed with his emotions, his feelings, and now those belonged firmly in the realm of nervousness and pure anxiety. For the longest time, nothing seemed to happen.

And then...

Nothing still happened.

Harry let out his breath heavily, and rubbed his aching temples. He was so sure that would have worked! House elves weren't bound by the restrictions of ordinary magic, as both Kreacher and Dobby had proved before, so where the hell was he? It had now been at least thirty seconds since Harry had called him, and those thirty seconds formed half a minute longer than what was typically required when he had ever attempted to summon Kreacher previously.

"Harry, what are you doing?" Murtagh asked, worry etched across his face.

Harry sighed. "Nothing. I thought I could call for... someone from my world, but apparently I can't."

"I recognise that name," Eragon said vaguely. "Didn't you once mention a 'Kreacher' in your stories?"

"Yes. He was a house elf – no, nothing like the elves you know, so please don't get them confused – who helped me immensely when I needed him. House elves can apparate at will, and normal restrictions don't all apply to their kind. But clearly this one does."

"Hmm... why?"

"'Why' what, Murtagh?" Harry frowned.

"Why does this restriction apply to this... house elf? Surely your own abilities are only disabled because of Durza, so what gives?"

Harry thought long and hard about that. It was possible something was giving off a form of magical interference, something potent hidden in Alagaësia. Of course, the object in question would have to be steeped in unfathomable power, if its mere presence distorted the very laws of magic to the degree that even minor creatures were affected. Of course, that was idle guesswork and fraught with irregular distortions. The distance could simply be so great that Kreacher couldn't make the journey. Harry had much more energy than the elder house elf, and he had been unconscious for over a day after landing in The Spine. He voiced these potential ideas.

"Well, whatever the cause, he hasn't appeared, so that's that," Eragon shrugged.

"You're right, of course."

"Of course I am. Now, I want to sleep, so both of you keep it down a little."

"Grouchy," Murtagh smirked.

"Merely tired, my friend. I'll be right as rain come the morning time."

"Shine like the Sun," Harry quipped.

Eragon groaned. "I'm exhausted, so please stop. I can't cope."

"Oh, good one!"

"Shut up, Murtagh."

"Come over here and make me," he joked, again with alliteration.

Eragon paused, then nodded to himself and dived at Murtagh, spearing him off the back of the couch. Harry laughed as he watched the two of them struggling to gain an upper hand. It may have been friendly, but that didn't stop them from hitting each other.

"Ow, that was my shin!" Eragon exclaimed painfully.

"Was it? Sorry. I was aiming for your head."

"Ladies, maybe you should knock it off!" exclaimed a loud voice, and both men scrambled to their feet wearily as Brom appeared from nowhere, standing with a hand on his sword. Harry wasn't sure if he had removed it from his belt since entering Tronjheim.

"Sorry," Murtagh grinned, clearly not.

"Don't be," Brom said. "It's good that you can still play around. Just take it easy. I won't heal you if you accidentally dislocate a finger."

"Ooh, sounds painful," Harry whistled, before turning it into a half-hearted cough at Brom's glare.

"Is there any news from Surda?" Murtagh asked.

Brom was silent for a moment. He quietly took a seat, pausing to admire the quality of Harry's spell-casting, and was joined by his three young protégés. For an outsider the change in tone would have been outstanding to withhold; in but an instant all manner of childishness had vanished, and the battle-hardened expressions of four desolate and weary travellers took up its place. No one sat back, but leant forward on their seats.

"No," Brom said. "We've heard nothing since last night. However, Ajihad is currently embroiled in a meeting with King Hrothgar and other senior dwarves. He's attempting to bargain with them."

"Bargain for what?" Harry frowned.

"Their unanimous support."

"You mean it was being withheld?" Eragon asked with incredulity as Murtagh scoffed. "Don't they understand how serious this is?"

"Of course they do, but dwarven politics are unbearably horrific in their tedious nature, and the numerous clans are split over the most petty of issues. They fight amongst each other for profit-"

"Even if they should be fighting for their lives," Eragon interjected.

Brom nodded.

"What will be the difference?"

"Once they fully pledge themselves to the Varden, Ajihad will be given equal power over the clan leaders as the king," Brom said, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "It would be a gracious boon, but will most likely not come to fruition before it is too late."

"Well, what the hell is the point?" Harry spluttered.

Brom hesitated, shifting uncomfortably. Harry noted his unconcerned demeanour, not to mention a beguiling countenance of casualness that befit the nature of one intoxicated.

"We... we have a plan," Brom said shortly.

"...okay. What is it?" Harry asked, motioning for him to continue.

Brom shook his head. "...some of us have long suspected certain dwarven clans despise other races. This prevents them from fully cooperating with the Varden, and lends credence to their mutual apathy with the elves, not to mention causing inter-racial rivalries. For this reason Ajihad and I have devised a solution, one which must not leave this room. Understand?" he asked sharply.

They nodded together.

"Good. We plan to integrate the clans into a singular entity, under direct control by the king and answerable to none but his authority. For this reason we have to essentially dissolve the notion of self-righteousness amongst dwarven kind, and that is wherein our problem lies. Dwarves are remarkably stubborn, and will most likely attempt to thwart this plan at every turn."

"Then why bother considering it?" Eragon asked, grimacing. Orik had clearly been proud of his clan, and if all dwarves were similarly poised then it could be problematic... at best.

"Because we have to show them they can work together, even if it is against us. If the plan succeeds... fair enough. We have their support through Hrothgar. If it does not, which is most likely... hopefully they will still rally and band together for the cause after seeing they can fight together without killing one another, so we win either way."

"'Hopefully'?"

"There is every chance they will renounce the Varden for meddling," Brom said honestly. "But that's very unlikely," he added, seeing three astounded faces staring back at him. "This is a calculated risk, and one that neither I nor Ajihad could alone attempt with any possibility of success either way. We help maintain advantages in ways the other does not."

"Surely this is unnecessary," Murtagh said, aghast. "When the dwarves see the threat posed by Galbatorix-"

"They will act, yes," Brom nodded. "However, that will only come about if they are attacked, and we'd rather that didn't happen, you know. The only other way would be if every other race joined against Galbatorix. They are honour-bound to serve the realm, or be cast into an eternal limbo of shame."

There was a typical silence for a few moments, one which Harry had grown accustomed to. It was not out of place for the four of them to sit there for a minute or two, absorbing the information they had just heard. When they did eventually speak again, it typically resulted in several conclusive insights, and possibly another course of action, if one could be seen. Four minds were certainly better than one or two, and usually it was as many as six.

Brom looked at them quietly. "Just expect a lot of tension for the foreseeable future, and possible open hostility from some people."

"What else can we expect?" Harry asked, his sarcasm acidic.

Brom winced. "I admit they are difficult people, but they have noble intentions."

"Yeah, I've seen what those do to people in the past," Harry said darkly. "Let them use their misguided sense of nobility to tear each other apart. They're like spoiled children. I won't be getting involved."

"You'll have to get involved eventually," Brom warned. "There will come a time when they look to you and Eragon for advice, as well as the third Rider, and you must not refuse it, or they will destroy themselves."

"I don't want to play their games," Harry said quietly, absent-mindedly conjuring a fire into the grate he had created the night before.

"I don't think I know enough about dwarves to be of any use," Eragon admitted. "So I'd be best staying back and watching for now, in case I make a fatal mistake. Once I'm more knowledgeable hopefully I can be of some use."

"I'll have to fix that," Brom said, frowning. "You three and Ajihad are the only ones here I trust, so I want you by my side... when you're ready."

"And Nyos?" Murtagh asked softly.

"He... I don't know where he is," Brom admitted with a sigh. "I haven't seen him since he stormed out yesterday evening. Have any of you...?"

"No."

"He'll come back, but I don't know what state he'll be in," Harry said calmly. "If he's despondent we can try to help him. But I hope his family are in good health. We need his help."

Brom was silent for a moment, then braced himself by shaking his head, as though to waken up fully. "Don't concern yourself with Nyos. He can take care of himself. You have more pressing matters at hand."

Harry looked up. "What pressing matters?"

Brom opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again, before finally shrugging and ploughing ahead. "It's been decided you're going to take command of Du Vrangr Gata as soon as you've been tested."

Harry's eyes widened. "What! When was I going to be told about this?!"

"About ten seconds ago."

"Oh, brilliant. Thanks for that."

"Don't be worried," Brom chided. "It's a great honour. And the only reason we're selecting you is that you have experience with organising resistance groups. Correct?"

Harry gave a reluctant nod.

"Excellent. You'll be fine. Just... err... make sure you show confidence, but don't be cocky. Their current leader won't take this news well," the old man warned.

"I don't need a severely pissed-off magician after my blood. I have those in abundance as it is," Harry said flatly, both voice and eyes. "What's his name? You know, so I can make peace before he tries to gut me?"

"And don't be overly dramatic," Brom snapped. "She is named Trianna. And as a matter of fact, she isn't actually in charge at the moment."

"I won't bother trying to work this one out. Just tell me."

"The Twins are in command, but Ajihad is reassigning them on my suggestion."

"To where?"

"Reinforcing the wards around the city and outlying areas. Needless to say, they weren't happy, but have no choice in the matter."

"I wouldn't trust them with such a task," Murtagh grunted. "They're very worrisome tricksters."

Harry snorted. "They're clearly dishonest gits. I wouldn't trust them if they told me the sky was blue."

"Precisely. I'm going to be there to keep an eye on them. I'll be inspecting their wards at the end of every session," Brom said. "If there are gaps..."

"Then we'll have figured out who the traitors are," Eragon concluded, nodding. "It's a good plan, although it could be a problem if they manage to conceal a breach in the wards."

"They won't. Arya and Angela will also be supervising at random times, as well as adding their own power to the fortifications."

"Arya? She's awake?" Suddenly, Eragon seemed to sit up much straighter, and Harry gave a small smile for the sake of his friend. He knew the power of love when he saw it.

"Yes," Brom nodded, "in fact, she's asked us to join her at the sparring field in half an hour. It's important for her as an elven ambassador to test the prowess of the Riders in both swordplay and magic-weaving. Both of you are obviously required to attend."

Brom stood up and stretched his legs. With a wave of his hand and a simple word he extinguished the fire Harry had lit. "Come. It'll take only a few minutes to get there, but I'll show you around the city a little if you'd like. I need to get reacquainted myself. It's been so long..."

"How did you get up here?" Harry suddenly demanded, realising where they were.

Brom smirked and tapped his nose ruefully.

"Fine, be like that. But when you need me to-"

Harry was interrupted by an explosive BANG! Out of nowhere the air around him seemed to contract, and he was thrown off of his feet. Identical cries of surprise told him his companions had likewise been blown backwards alongside the entire ensemble of furniture and cutlery, and the growling of Saphira, who had just landed, alerted him to the disturbance in the centre of the room, where lay the smouldering wreck of the couch he had conjured.

"What the hell is that?!" Brom demanded, drawing his sword.

Harry jumped to his feet, eyes wide and disbelief palpable.

"Master Harry calls, and Kreacher comes. Kreacher is a good elf, yes," said the dishevelled Kreacher, before promptly collapsing.

Eragon, Brom and Murtagh approached the sparring field of the Varden with differing emotions. Brom was remarkably calm, as he tended to remain in most situations, whereas Eragon was suffering from trepidation and Murtagh anxiety over being seen by so many accusatory glares. No one had said a word to him, but he knew that was only thanks to Brom's presence. If the old warrior hadn't been accompanying him he was sure to have been accosted on at least one occasion by an angry mother, or a battle-hardened group of warriors seeking 'revenge'.

Eragon was quickly alerted to the din. He knew a full-scale battle would be huge in scope, and the noise created would be deafening to endure. It was best he get used to the clattering of swords and shields quickly, and even the clinking of an armoured warrior with every step he took. In certain sections near the end of the ground archers were firing arrows at dummies made from straw, or at wooden targets emblazoned with a large bull's-eye in the centre.

Several fighters stopped to watch the trio pass, but most resumed their sharpening of weapons with whetstones and determination to batter each other senseless after a few seconds. Dwarves may be small in stature, but Eragon was damned sure they looked more intimidating than many men with their formidable axes and fearsome beards, as strange as it may have sounded. It merely gave them a more frightening visage, in his opinion.

"I'm going to ask if anyone wants to spar," Murtagh said quietly.

"Are you sure?" Brom asked, uncertain.

"Yes. Maybe it'll help to... clear the air," he garbled, noticing some of the looks he was being given and deciding action was required.

Brom nodded gravely. "Very well. Just come back in one piece."

"Oh, I count on it," Murtagh said with sarcasm, before stalking off.

Brom and Eragon approached a more secluded section of the area, where two women stood waiting for their arrival. One was a magician of Du Vrangr Gata, with Brom's announcement that she would be there for his magical testing. She was fair and elegant, with dark hair that tumbled past her shoulders and a head held high with confidence, but not overconfidence. Her slightly pale skin threw her tresses into contrast, which served to make her look even more stunning, and her dark blue eyes looked for the world as though they could pierce the heart of stone with their mysterious splendour.

The second woman was noticeable to Eragon in a heartbeat. Arya had haunted his dreams and waking thoughts with good reason. She was by far the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, with raven coloured hair and high, elegant cheekbones. Her body gave off an aroma of crushed pine needles, which sent pleasant tingles up and down his spine, and her slanted eyes of emerald hue would surely be the last things he thought of on his death bed, such was their mystique. The tapered ears did not bother him, and only added to his attraction – he thought they were exotic, and that thought enticed his very soul.

Brom approached and gave a bow. "Eragon, allow me to introduce Arya svit-kona, Princess of Ellesméra and Elven Ambassador to The Varden, and Trianna, the esteemed leader of Du Vrangr Gata."

Eragon bowed deeply, showing the utmost courtesy and respect; not just for Arya's sake, but because he treated all women honourably. "My ladies, it is an honour to make your acquaintance."

"The honour is mine, Eragon, noble Shur'tugal," Arya said, repeating his action. Her voice had a musical quality, and he felt it wash over his entire body with a shudder. He wanted to hear that voice for the rest of his life. It was much more endearing than any song he had ever heard.

Trianna respectfully greeted him, but then frowned. She was obviously more casual than Arya. "Brom, what is the meaning of this? Have there been changes made to the testing schedules for both Riders? I thought Ajihad would have notified me first."

Brom scratched his head uncomfortably and relatively sheepishly, thinking back...

"I don't give a shit about your bloody 'test'! You tell whoever's in charge of the procedure that my friend may be dying here! Now get out of my sight if you're going. No, I don't care about offending anyone! Alright, then give them my apologies, but state clearly this is more important! Okay? Good. And will someone please get Angela up here already?!"

"There was a... change in plans," Brom said. Deciding to elaborate before either questioned him further, he continued: "Harry made it plain that, if it were possible, he would be tested tomorrow instead. The situation was unavoidable."

"Ajihad won't be happy to hear that," Trianna said simply. She quickly wheeled her mind over Brom's demeanour. It appeared he was withholding parts of the truth, and she wanted to know why. It was bad enough that they were giving her newfound title as leader of Du Vrangr Gata to a newcomer, but now that newcomer didn't even bother to turn up and greet her? She wouldn't stand for it.

"I'll explain it to him myself," Brom promised, as Arya watched on with interest.

"No. That won't be necessary. Is your friend ill?" Trianna asked Eragon.

"I- yes," Eragon nodded, only too late catching Brom's furious warning look over her shoulder. He mentally recoiled as he realised what he had done. Trust his nerves at being around two beautiful women to fail him at a time like this.

"Very well. If it is not a problem, I can go and visit him. I'm quite adapt at healing illnesses and wounds. It'll also give me an opportunity to meet him today, so we get an extra day of work done. Surely you understand that type of efficiency, Brom?" she asked rhetorically.

Brom gave a reluctant nod.

"Good. If it is not too much trouble, may I beg a favour of you?" she asked Eragon, giving him a genuine smile.

Eragon sighed. He already knew what it was and didn't really have a choice after the blunder he made. "Yes. Saphira will be here shortly. She wanted to fly for a little while. If she consents, I will allow her to take you up to the dragonhold. But be careful – she doesn't take too kindly to most strangers."

"Harry, you're going to have a visitor. Trianna from Du Vrangr Gata will be there soon to ask why you haven't shown up here today. I suggest hiding Kreacher," Eragon relayed.

Harry gave a mental sigh. "I expected persistency, but not this much so quickly. Fine. There won't be any problem if she doesn't snoop. I've moved Kreacher into your bed for the time being, since it's obscured by the back wall near the door."

"What! My bed? What was wrong with your own?"

"Yours looked more comfortable."

Eragon ended the connection and grumbled slightly. Arya gave him an unusual look. Her expression changed by the narrowest of fractions into a questioning persona, and her head tilted ever so slightly to one side. Her eyes shone at him.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, and his chills returned tenfold.

"Yes... yes, everything is fine, thank you. I was just annoyed at... Harry's illness hampering our session today," he responded nervously.

She gave him a narrow smile, and her eyes twinkled. "Do not worry. We will manage by ourselves for the time being. Would you prefer to begin with swords, or knowledge of the Ancient Language?"

"Whichever you prefer," Eragon said suavely, smiling.

Brom groaned, rolling his eyes.

They waited a few minutes for Saphira to arrive. When she appeared overhead with a roar to display her ferocity to the veterans beneath her, all activity stopped, and every eye was fixed upon her beating wings. She landed with a thud, blowing dust into the eyes of many people nearby, although none had the courage to complain about the matter. Some of the Varden gave encouraging cheers, whereas the majority of dwarves simply stood there, impassive, yet inwardly giddy.

"It is a good day but for the glow of the Sun upon my scales," Saphira declared happily, and Eragon beamed for her joy. He also missed the natural weather, obscured because of the mountain.

"I think we will get used to that before long, unfortunately."

"Hmph. Correct, little one. Although I do wonder how these humans and dwarves can enjoy being cooped up for so long at one time. Such a lifestyle isn't even bestowed upon cattle. All living creatures need to run free and true," Saphira said sagely.

"An acquired taste, if you ask me. But hopefully we won't have to find out. Saphira, this is Trianna, and this is Arya," he said, switching to verbal speech. Saphira inclined her head, and both women looked gratified.

"Truly, it is an honour, Saphira Bjartskular," Arya said clearly. "I cannot tell you how happy I am to see you now. I carried your egg, and it brings joy to my heart to see you flourish."

"I thank you for protecting me, and for leading me into Eragon's path," Saphira replied. "I'm sorry that you were taken by that foul monster."

Arya nodded, and Eragon was alarmed to see a slightly forlorn expression grip her features. Her eyes appeared leagues away. "Durza is a vile creature, but somehow I could resist him. I owe the three of you my life for rescuing me."

I'll kill Durza for harming her, Eragon swore.

"You would have done the same for us," Brom grunted as an old friend might. "So don't mention it."

Saphira shifted her gaze to Trianna, who hadn't spoken yet. She gave a quick curtsy. "O, great dragon, it was a proud day for all free peoples of Alagaësia when you stepped into our home with friendship in your heart and courage in your mind. I hope you can help lead us to victory and freedom, so that the bards may sing of Saphira the Mighty for millennia to come."

Saphira was obviously mollified by Trianna's words, and she said as much to Eragon.

"Are you sure she's not trying to play you a little?"

"Oh, there is no doubt about that," Saphira told him. "But to be a female in such a society is no menial task when men are oft the hunters and the strong. She uses her words to find an advantage many others do not. She knows what she is doing, and I admire her determination and fortitude. I like her."

"And that settles it for you, of course," Eragon summed up.

"Of course."

"Saphira has agreed to carry you," Eragon told Trianna. "She'll take you to the dragonhold and wait until you are ready to leave again. She... uh... she likes you."

Trianna beamed. "I'm honoured. Thank you both."

"Think nothing of it," Eragon said plainly, walking over to Saphira and removing his sword belt and scabbard. He allowed the tiredness to leave his bones, even though he was certain it would return amplified a few hours later. "Now, I'm in the mood to fight something, so how does this test work?"

"It's simple: you fight Arya," Brom smirked, seeing his eager expression droop.

Hmm... an elf, he thought quickly. Elves are naturally superior to humans in almost every way physically, so she'll have the advantage. I'll have to tread lightly and fight defensively if I can.

"Okay, my lady," Eragon said to Arya. "I'm ready to begin when you are."

"As am I. But please, call me Arya when the situation doesn't call for formality," she said kindly. "I owe you much more than that."

Eragon nodded, ignoring the butterflies in his stomach. "Very well then, Arya. Let's go!"

Harry sat on a simple wooden chair next to the still form of his devoted friend, Kreacher. The house elf had collapsed from sheer magical exhaustion following his dramatic entrance into the newly-repaired dragonhold, and had not awoken in the half hour since. Harry had staunchly refused to leave the room until he could ensure the little Kreacher's wellbeing, even though it meant disregarding his testing for the time being.

Before leaving for the training field, Saphira had found Solembum, Angela's werecat. He guided Saphira to her hideout in the old ruins, and the dragon was able to convince her to offer Harry her help. Harry knotted his hands and leant his chin against the upright forefingers, watching as the witch busied herself about the sleeping figure before him. She had been quite surprised upon seeing him for the first time.

"I mean, it's immeasurably difficult to decide if I should give him medicine, but... oh, really! Why does he wear these filthy rags?" Angela demanded, rounding on Harry.

Harry blinked. "It's a long story."

Angela 'hmphed'. "Well, I should like to hear it sometime. There's no way it's healthy. If he ever got hurt they could cause an infection!"

Harry sighed and rubbed his aching temples. What a day this had been. If he knew how to brew a headache potion he would have one before blinking again. His brain was mercilessly throbbing, and it felt as though the membranes were scratching painfully against the skull, even if that obviously wasn't the case.

"Can you heal him or not?" Harry asked irritably.

"Of course I can! But maybe you should watch the attitude a little, young man!"

Harry held up a hand, without raising his face. "I'm sorry. I just haven't slept in a while... hang on, 'young man'? You couldn't be more than three years older than me, if that!"

Angela scoffed. "Don't judge a book by its cover. I'm much older than you think."

"Since it's rude to ask someone their age I won't, but I'm curious now."

Angela flashed him a smile. "Well, at least you have some idea of manners. Let's just say I've been around since before the land was called Alagaësia."

Harry blinked. "Do you use a moisturiser?"

Angela laughed uproariously, before plopping herself down on the end of the bed. "Well, I've had a look at him, and it appears there is no immediate danger, so I don't need to heal him. His mind was very unusual to touch, but thankfully asleep. And that is all: he's merely sleeping. The strain of travelling must have been exhausting."

"Yes, something similar happened to me," Harry said slowly, brow creased. "It may take him some time to wake up then, possibly a day or more."

"Quite. Do you plan on going to get tested now that you know he'll be alright?"

"Is there any point in asking how you know about that?"

"Oh, I knew some type of test would be involved. It only makes sense. After all, you are a Rider, and all concerned will want a synopsis of your strengths and weaknesses. Eragon is in the same boat."

"Yes, well, to answer that question: no," Harry said flatly, rising to his feet and stretching. "I'm not going anywhere until he awakens, just in case there's any other problem. But I won't keep you if you have other matters to attend to."

"Good! I have a cauldron bubbling and a potion to scoop out before it melts a hole in the floor," Angela said cheerfully.

"Sounds dangerous."

"Is a flesh-dissolving acid dangerous? I hadn't noticed."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I guess that depends on how you look at it. Is a butter knife dangerous?"

"Ah, I'm glad to see you're using your brain," Angela said, flashing him a grin. "And your wit – it's very sophisticated for one your age."

"I can be morbidly funny," Harry deadpanned. "Or just morbid, if you prefer."

"Maybe you should save that for your poetry," Angela informed him, gathering up her instruments.

"Poetry?"

"Of course! All of the greatest poetry is written after the would-be poet has suffered throughout their life, whether it be through war, from love or whatever nonsense. Surely your own world is similar?"

"Eh... I never really checked. I guess poetry isn't my thing," Harry admitted.

"Never give up what you haven't already tried," Angela said, rapping him sharply on the nose with her forefinger. "And never pass up a good thing."

"What does that mean?"

"You have company," Angela said, ignoring the question.

Harry rose to his feet, having already felt Saphira approaching. He braced himself for the verbal onslaught sure to come his way, and what's more, it would be from a woman he had never even met. He walked to the entrance of the dragonhold with Angela, feeling the cold cut through his leather tunic and breeches as Saphira landed.

"Do you want me to ask her to give you a ride back down?" he asked over his shoulder, receiving no response. "Angela?" Harry turned his head, but found that she was already gone.

"How does she do that!?"

He received a mental image of irritation from the slumbering Aru.

"Sorry to wake you. Go back to sleep."

Saphira's sharp claws crackled against the magical sapphire as she carefully hunched over, allowing the young woman on her back to dismount. She did so gratefully, and slowly came to stand in front of Harry. Saphira exchanged a nod with him, before flying away. Harry's attention was drawn back to the woman before him.

Harry eyed her carefully. She was inlaid with a look of determination, yet despite her beauty, his eyes were taken by the mysterious gold serpent entwined around her wrist. Hating snakes with a passion, he shuddered a little. She didn't seem to notice.

"Harry Potter?" Trianna inquired, finding the second name unusual in place of a father's.

Harry nodded. "At your service, my lady. And you are...?"

"Trianna," she said clearly, holding her head a little higher. "Leader of Du Vrangr Gata... or should I say former leader of Du Vrangr Gata?"

Harry raised his hands in sympathy. "Please. I didn't decide that, and would rather not take the position at all. Brom chose me, and that's all there is to it."

Trianna blinked, apparently surprised. "You're serious. You didn't want the role?" she asked suspiciously.

Harry shook his head, and repeated the phrase in the Ancient Language. That seemed to strike a chord, as her eyes widened.

"I see... in that case, I apologise for blaming you without first hearing your side. It was unjust."

Harry shook his head. "Not at all. You're not at fault. I would have felt the same, if it's any consolation. Please, would you like to sit?"

Trianna nodded and Harry politely led her inside. She made an appreciative noise upon seeing the welcoming sofa, and sat down at one end, before smiling.

"This is comfortable. My compliments."

"Thank you," Harry said, inclining his head and sitting opposite her. "So, what brings you here, if I may ask?"

He decided to get straight down to it, without wasting time. She had to leave quickly in order to minimise the chances of Kreacher being discovered. He would eventually have to tell the Varden about the house elf's arrival, but that could wait until he trusted them at least a little more.

"I come on behalf of Ajihad. He wants both you and Eragon to be tested physically and magically. However, since you didn't show up today..."

"I'm sorry about that," Harry said quickly. "Did Eragon tell you?" he asked in a deliberately leading manner. He couldn't speak a different story than Eragon's, else she would surely become suspicious.

"About your illness? Yes."

"Oh, for- seriously, Eragon? An illness? How didn't you know she would want to come and check it out?" Harry demanded.

"I was preoccupied!" he replied defensively.

"You mean you were too busy fantasising over Arya? Okay, I forgive you."

"I didn't say that!"

"You didn't have to."

Trianna grinned at him, and he noticed it gave her a slightly rebellious look that he found intriguing. "Your friend had the same distant look earlier. I'm not a fool, you know. Feel free to communicate mentally if you want, but please don't try to make me look stupid."

Harry scoffed. "Fair enough. Although by the looks of things, that would be a very difficult task indeed."

"What do you mean?" she asked, frowning.

"Call it... intuition. I can see that you're a very intelligent person, with great power to control and manipulate others. But at the same time I don't think you do, or at least you've never had to. You're very prolific when it comes to magic, and are stronger than most of the magicians living inside this mountain, so many people respect you as it is. Fooling you wouldn't be easy by any means."

Trianna raised her eyebrows with amusement. She found herself strangely enjoying this little conversation, despite telling herself en route that there would be a lot of yelling. "Really? You can tell all of that from a single glance? How so?"

Harry nodded towards her. "Your demeanour. It's graceful, yet speaks of great power and knowledge. I've seen other people with a similar look, but never one with your amount of determination. I respect you for that alone, and I daresay there's also a lot more to you that would lend credence to these facts."

Trianna grinned, folding her arms. "Go on."

"Sure. I believe your confidence and abilities brought you to the eyes of Ajihad, which is why you're in such a powerful position at such a young age. Unless you're like Angela, in which case everything I've said is probably wrong," Harry said sheepishly, scratching his head.

"No, you're right. Mostly. I turned nine and ten only two months ago, and you're correct in saying the Varden noticed me at a young age. I've lived here all my life, and owe my skill to their teachings," she revealed.

"Then what did I get wrong?" Harry asked curiously.

"Not too many people respect me. I'm known only to a few, and even they think I don't know my place. The twins are quite fast in pointing that out every time I voice my opinion," she said bitterly.

Harry waved a hand dismissively. "Forget about them. I know you don't like the idea of playing second fiddle to anyone, especially not to an outsider, but I promise you it'll be different for however long I need to remain in charge. You'll get an equal say in everything, and I'll definitely value your expertise."

"Thank you," Trianna said, inclining her head. She looked up again, and found his eyes on her intently. Most uncharacteristically, she found herself blushing. A piercing emerald shade, they truly were striking to her.

Harry cleared his throat and looked away as he caught her gaze. "So, tell me about this testing. What would you like me to do to prove myself?"

"I think this conversation has proven your maturity and intelligence quite aptly," Trianna said in a slightly choked voice. She raised her forefinger. "I only ask you to perform one spell for me, and then I will be satisfied."

Harry nodded. "That sounds fair enough. What spell?"

"You misunderstand. You choose. Surprise me."

Harry blinked. He hadn't been expecting that. It was a clear test of his ability to think as well as to cast, then. He shifted his gaze to the sapphire for a moment, thinking. It would be best he showed her a Latin spell, as that would prove his resolve more than anything. Also, it could be something she had never before seen.

Harry smiled. He was feeling strangely sheepish, and had the perfect idea. Normally his mind would be screaming 'no', but this time it chose not to. Is this what Angela had meant by "never pass up a good thing"? She could read elements of the future, after all. Withdrawing his wand, he held it in his palm gently.

"Orchideous."

Trianna recoiled as a slight bang reverberated around the room, but quickly felt her eyes widen as she observed the bunch of sweet-smelling violets that Harry had conjured.

"For you."

She smiled happily and took them graciously, finding the conjuration process from the wand invigorating and the results beautiful. They were real violets, healthy and magically pruned to perfection.

"They're wonderful," she commented gently.

"Not much use in combat, unless the Urgals have an allergy to botany. I just thought someone so lovely deserved something lovely in turn."

Harry choked as he realised what he had said.

"Eragon and Murtagh will find this conversation of great interest," Saphira commented, snickering.

"Are you eavesdropping?" Harry demanded.

"Of course not. Your quiet voice carries in the wind," she replied smugly, landing once again near the entrance with a roar.

"...if you would like to, that is?"

Harry looked at Trianna, realising she had been talking the whole time. Luckily, he had an excuse.

"I'm very sorry, but I didn't catch that. Saphira can be quite... loud."

Saphira bared her teeth, and Harry smirked at her. "Play with me, and I'll fight back before keeling over. Not all prey will give you comfort."

"I... I was just wondering if you would like me to guide you around the city a little, tomorrow morning?" she repeated, faltering slightly. "It'll give me a chance to introduce you to the other members of Du Vrangr Gata, and I'm sure we could have fun exploring. I enjoy your company."

Harry's stomach knotted. Was she flirting with him? It definitely seemed that way. He wasn't sure about this. She seemed like a very nice person to speak to, and was stunningly beautiful in his eyes, but he couldn't help but think about Ginny. Kreacher's appearance had given him fresh hope.

Annoyed with himself, he inwardly shook his head.

Get a grip, Harry, he told himself. I can't go back home, and now Kreacher is here too, which means she couldn't get here either. And even if he could return and bring her, the magical effort would probably kill them both. I need to accept I'll never see her again, unless I want to scry her every second for the rest of her life.

In that instant his mind was made up. Where was the harm in at least some friendly company?

"Y-yes, that sounds great," he stammered. He berated himself for stumbling a little, but couldn't really help it. He hadn't tried to approach anyone in a long time.

Trianna beamed. She didn't know what had possessed her to do something like that. It was very unlike her.

I've only known him for twenty minutes. How can he have this kind of effect on me? She wondered.

If she had read his mind, or he hers, both would have discovered an identical set of thoughts.

Saphira had a quick snack of cold beef before escorting Trianna back to the sparring field. She loved the feeling of soaring through the air more than anything else in the whole world, and wasn't truly complete without the brush of the wind against her glorious wings, and Eragon on her back. Even as a young dragon she knew the connection they both had with Harry and Aru was very unusual, but it was certainly welcome. She may not feel anywhere near as attached to Harry as to her own Rider, but spending time with him could help dull the loneliness if Eragon was elsewhere quite significantly.

She pondered this, wondering to what extent it would inevitably reach. If both young men were to have families that extended far and wide in the future, would she be linked to all of them, or would it end with only the two? And what would her connection to Harry be if she and Arucane were to fall in love when he was a little older?

It was strange how the heart worked for tiny humans. Eragon was infatuated with Arya. She knew this for a fact. And now Harry was clearly attracted to Trianna, and she to him. She knew instinctively that dragons produced a show of affection when they desired one another, so to her the premise of courting made no sense, or, as Harry had called it: 'dating'. You couldn't force yourself to fall in love with someone through sheer effort. People fell in love without trying, and often without meaning to, so she strongly believed in love at first sight, yet many humans did not.

It baffles me, and yet I forget about every worry and every doubt when I am flying with joy in my heart. That is why to fly is to know the greatest sensation imaginable.

She also noticed being connected with Harry had altered her way of speaking more than a little. Despite living in Alagaësia for many months now, his dialect was queer when compared with those around him, and it caused her to speak a little differently without noticing, a reality amplified by its effect upon both Aru and Eragon also.

Saphira gave a mighty roar as she sailed atop buildings and magically-grown fields, hearing the clash of steel-on-iron from even this distance. Above her Trianna held on tightly. She really was lucky, Saphira thought. There were very few strangers she would have accommodated in such a manner, if any. She should feel honoured to ride a daughter of the sky, and said as much.

"Think nothing of it, little one," Saphira replied with a grunt. "So long as the partner of my heart and his friends trust you, I shall do the same."

Murtagh took a quick glance up as she passed overhead, still hoping beyond hope he was not being tortured into a coma beneath Urû'baen. His opponent, a burly dwarf known as Freale, chose that moment to strike, roaring loudly. Murtagh expected the deception and quickly brought his blade up to parry the powerful warhammer, before gliding around the dwarf's instep and flattening him with the sole of his boot. He pinned him to the ground with his foot and gently pointed his sword at Freale's neck.

The dwarf grunted in annoyance and waved him away, before reluctantly accepting an arm up. He clasped it tightly in a warrior's embrace.

"Well fought, lad," he said in a gravelled and somewhat dishevelled voice. "It is a rare occasion that I am bested by a human. I can see now how you were able to escape the capital. Twice."

"Thank you, Freale," Murtagh nodded appreciatively. "You fight very well. I was just lucky."

The dwarf made a dismissive noise at that. He touched his forehead in a respectful manner before turning away, most likely to discuss the newly bastardised human with his companions. Murtagh paid this no heed, and instead allowed his eyes to follow Saphira. She landed a bit away from him, where Eragon was attempting to levitate about a dozen or so rocks simultaneously. Curious, he sheathed his blade and walked towards them, sidestepping the duos and trios sparring together.

Unfortunately, his prior prediction of being accosted held true.

"Ah, if it isn't the son of Morzan, or rather, the bastard of Morzan," declared a menacing voice.

Murtagh wheeled around, determined to break someone's nose, but found himself face-to-face with the twins, who were smiling mischievously towards him. All activity nearby ceased, as many turned to watch the altercation.

"What do you want?" Murtagh demanded, eyeing them cautiously. He rested one hand on his sword, ready to draw it in an instant if need be.

"Come now, do you really think a piece of sharpened iron will stop us?" one of the twins laughed, indicating the hand-and-a-half sword.

"I think a wet paper bag and an old lady with a parasol could stop the likes of you," Murtagh smirked.

The crowd sucked in their breath, but the twins were furious at the insult, and promptly showed it. One of them rolled up his sleeves and began to levitate rocks nearby, whilst the other got ready to add a deadly touch to the incantation.

"Brisi-"

"Stop!"

Murtagh glanced over his shoulder and saw Brom approaching, looking furious. The twins paled slightly, quickly dropping their supposed barrage of projectiles. Murtagh allowed his grip to loosen a little. He was a half-second away from drawing before Brom appeared.

"What in the deepest circle of hell is wrong with you two?" Brom demanded, glaring at them with pure, undiluted rage and loathing.

"Perhaps you should keep a shorter leash on your untrained dogs," one of them spat back. With a furious gesture, they both turned and stormed off the field, sparing not a glance back.

"Next time I'm taking a pair of legs for my trouble!" Brom yelled after them.

There was some sporadic laughter at his threat, and the area returned to normal. Murtagh gave a low whistle, relieved until Brom rounded on him.

"And you! What are you playing at?" Brom snapped, shoving him in the chest.

"It was their doing, not mine!" Murtagh growled, outraged. "They called me-"

"Don't provoke them!" Brom growled. "It doesn't matter if they call you every name under the Sun! If you mess around with those two you'll end up dead before long!"

Murtagh shook his head furiously. "They have to be the traitors. No one else has had such difficulty in accepting us, even me. And Harry heard them virtually proclaim their belief of the king being all powerful when we met with Ajihad a few hours ago."

"No, no! You can't jump to conclusions," Brom stated, pointing a finger at him. "Just because they're a pair of menacing devils doesn't mean they're traitors. No spy is stupid enough to draw so much attention to themselves. It'll likely be someone quieter, hidden in plain sight."

"But the open hostility-"

"Doesn't matter," Brom declared in a tone that booked no argument. "Do you really think I don't suspect them? It could all be a ploy into making me think they aren't the spies, when in reality they are. I'm keeping a close watch on both of them."

"No, you're not... you're watching me at the moment."

"Don't be a smartass," Brom said. Then he gave an irrepressible grin. "I have to say the image of an old woman beating the two to death with an umbrella tickles me."

"Didn't Harry have a word for that? 'Psychotic', wasn't it?" Murtagh teased.

Brom clapped him around the head jokingly.

"Hey! What was all that about?" Eragon exclaimed, walking over with Arya and Saphira.

Murtagh shook his head. "Nothing important. Just an altercation with the twins. How goes your testing?"

Eragon scratched his head, embarrassed. "That depends on how you look at it. Arya wiped the floor with me, but she still says I passed."

"I saw a little of it from here," Murtagh nodded. "It was extraordinary swordplay. And you're right – she did. My compliments, my lady."

"They are appreciated," Arya said cordially. "Eragon still passed his test, and moreover, I am gladdened by the remarkable progress he has shown if it is true he only began to use a sword several months ago."

"Hardly even that," Brom said honestly, arms folded. "The boys both have skill. As does this one," he added, nodding at Murtagh.

"I can't wait until you fight Harry," Eragon announced suddenly. "He may have a little surprise in store for you."

"What do you mean?" Arya asked with curiosity.

"Oh, let's just say... he has a trick or two up his sleeve."

"Garjzla!"

Durza watched with awe and terror as his king smote another group of warriors with a single flick of his finger. It had happened so many times he was now accustomed to the sensation, and yet watching the king fling a bolt of light with such impunity made his blood run cold. It was the type of strength he dreaded ever facing in battle.

Galbatorix leered as the Surdan warriors collapsed to the ground promptly, screaming in anguish as their skin began to boil within the armour they wore. He clenched his fist tightly, enhancing the sensation, before opening it sharply in an expansive gesture. The screaming stopped as each soldier physically exploded in a blend of blood and entrails, splattering the courtyard. Around the two magicians were hundreds of imperial soldiers, massacring Orrin's men without mercy. They never stood a chance against such a mighty force.

Walking purposefully, his cloak billowing around his ankles, Galbatorix approached the ornate oaken doors to the palace, and gritted his teeth. He pulled back his arm and thrust it forward with the word 'jierda', smashing them into thousands of tiny splinters. Several guards who had been barricading the entrance were blown backwards, faces and necks peppered with sharpened stakes. Galbatorix used his power to call every wooden fragment before him, forming a barrage of deadly projectiles. He fired these at the soldiers within, killing around thirty in effortless seconds, their armour useless as the buzzing hornets pierced them relentlessly. Their blood painted the throne room with an exquisite example of his reddened resolve.

As a last ditch effort, archers took aim at him and fired.

"Letta."

He halted the arrows mid-flight and flicked them casually into the wall, where they impaled themselves sharply. Without hesitation, Galbatorix unleashed his magic upon the daring archers, their cries music to his ears. He tossed them towards their very own weapons, and there they dangled, impaled through the neck and torso, coughing up mouthfuls of blood and bile until finally succumbing to their painful demises.

King Orrin stood before his throne, the sole survivor of the Aberon battle on his side. His eyes were wide, but this was quickly hidden with a furious snarl. His grip tightened on the jewelled sword he held, and he rushed Galbatorix, giving a wild cry.

Galbatorix smirked. "Jierda."

Orrin's legs snapped backwards, and he fell to the ground with an agonised howl. He lost his grip on the longsword, and it skidded across the marble floor, stopping at Galbatorix's feet. He leaned down and picked it up, a testament to his victory.

"Orrin. How lovely to see you again," he smiled viciously, eyes glinting.

"Y-you bastard!" Orrin shouted, still overcome by the pain in his legs.

Galbatorix tsked. "Come now, Orrin. That is hardly language befitting a king. Although, there you are forgiven. You are a king no longer. This is my domain, and you will bow to me."

Orrin paused, looking up to him bravely. The pain was such that he couldn't prevent tears from streaming down his face.

The foolishness of youth, Galbatorix thought.

"I would rather die than bow before you," he hissed through clenched teeth.

Galbatorix nodded, understanding. "I'll grant that wish, but you'll still bow before me in death. I'll have your corpse stripped of its skin and laid before the very throne you sat upon! How does that sound? Enjoyable?!"

"You're insane," Orrin whispered, shaking his head.

"Your definition of sanity bores me," Galbatorix whispered back, leaning down and roughly grabbing his neck. He yanked it backwards, so that Orrin had his gaze fixed upon the roof. "Take it all in, Orrin. This building is the last you will ever see if you don't kneel before me here and now. I promise you that."

"You do what you wish. The Varden will make you pay," Orrin declared with confidence, gasping from the pain.

Galbatorix laughed. Not just a simple chuckle. He threw back his head and howled with laughter, frightening many of the soldiers who stood behind him, watching the spectacle unfold.

"The Varden?! They are about to suffer the same fate as your precious Surda. Durza!"

The Shade rushed forward, giving a bow. "My lord?"

"What news from the twins?"

"They reported an hour ago," Durza declared quietly. "They are worried Brom suspects them, and claim new wards are being erected."

"It is as I suspected," Galbatorix simpered, eyes narrowing, unmoved from Orrin. "Go. Meet the Kull gathered within the mountains. Bring me the Rider, his companion, and Murtagh. Kill the rest."

"Yes, my lord. But I fear it will take some time to amass our full strength. The final batch of Urgals will take three days to arrive, and... bringing him back weakened me, sire," Durza said nervously.

"You have that time. But on the third day storm Farthen Dur, and then Tronjheim. Slaughter the scum," Galbatorix hissed.

Durza bowed and left.

"No! You can't! There are women and children!" Orrin cried.

"They shall meet the same fate as you," Galbatorix gloated.

"F-fate? What fate?"

Galbatorix released him. Orrin was shocked for a moment, thinking he may have earned a reprieve. He opened his mouth to protest, stating he would die before serving, but never got the words out.

"Thrysta!"

Galbatorix used his magic to rip Orrin's head clean off of his shoulders, dragging the bloodied spine out with it. Several men recoiled in disgust, but many gave great cheers as they say their enemy fall. The king flung his nemesis' headless body into the throne at the opposite end of the room, where he positioned it upright.

"Here sits the Surdan king," he declared, before holding the head up high. Blood dribbled down his robes, but he cared not. He had his victory. This punishment was a testament to those who would defy him. The soldiers raucously began to shout approval and mocking insults towards Orrin. "Captain!"

"My lord?" said a young soldier breathlessly, rushing forward and kneeling.

"Bring me a spike. It's time to redecorate this throne room," he said.

"Yes, sir!"

He smiled evilly to himself, back turned to the soldiers. A black shadow seemed to pass by his eyes as he imagined what was soon to come.

Surda has fallen. The Varden will follow. My victory... will soon be complete.