A/N:

WOW.

When I asked for positive feedback, I definitely didn't expect all of what I got. So far the count is up to fifteen reviews, nine favorites, and eleven alerts. To put it into perspective, that is more reviews than ten of my other stories, more favorites than five, and more alerts than six. O.O

Good to know ya'll liked it... And I'm really sorry about the delay. There'll be more about that in the post-chapter A/N but I know you guys don't care about why I'm so late, you just want to get to the story ;)

I still don't own Eragon.

Eragon was unsure of how much time had passed until a hand had fallen on his shoulder. Resisting the urge to remove the offending limb, as he had a rather good guess on who was interrupting his meditation, Eragon opened his eyes to see his father standing above him.

Vrael, though he normally wore some sort of armor as his usual garb as the Lead Rider, looked ready to march into battle. Elven-made chain mail was barely visible beneath a gleaming silver chestplate engraved with the Order's motif, a fierce dragon curled around a large sword. The dragon held a scroll in one of its forepaws and an olive branch in the other. Down the sword were glyphs declaring Wiol Mor'ranr, Wiol Thorta- For Peace, For Truth- in the ancient language.

"We have been looking for you, Eragon. What are you doing so far into the forest when there is still so much to be done?" Vrael's tone was almost disapproving and, though it pained Eragon to be unable to truthfully answer his father, the younger elf was overjoyed that the plan had succeeded. The eggs and the Eldunari were safe. Now all that remained was to survive the coming battle.

"I was searching for a moment of peace before there was none left to be found. I am sorry if I was needed," Eragon said as smoothly as he could. Vrael, an understanding light in his eyes, merely nodded.

"Come, now. Oromis and Glaedr have already departed for Illirea with Kialandi and Formura and the younger apprentices are in need of a steady watch."

"Saphira and I shall see to them," Eragon bowed his head. Vrael gave the slightest of smiles and looked to Saphira.

"Keep him safe, Saphira."

With all that I am, Saphira promised. And, Eragon-Father, defend yourself diligently as well. If the moment approaches, strike with the ferocity of the fallen in your blade. Bring light to the Mad One's darkness.

"As is my duty, I am honor-bound," Vrael nodded, a sadness in his eyes once more. Seeing that sadness, Eragon felt a fluttering of worry for his father, only now considering the fact that he may not survive this encounter. The Mad King has collected many Eldunari from the fallen, and had so grown more powerful. How powerful, though, was yet to be seen.

But soon, Eragon's concerns were scattered to the winds. Vrael and Umaroth departed to prepare the remaining riders and dragons for combat while Eragon and Saphira met with the youngest of the apprentices to prepare them for what was to come.

It felt hollowing to see such young souls preparing for war. Under the Order, no war had ever called for such children to touch arms. Now, in the face of a siege and final assault on the home of the Dragon Riders, the youngest, hardly twelve and thirteen, were sharpening their swords with shaking fingers. Eragon strode into the apprentices' hall, Saphira going to the courtyard to meet with their companions. The youngest paired dragon was hardly eight months old, too young to fly into battle. If there had been more time, Eragon knew that Vrael would have looked to evacuate these youngling apprentices to Du Weldenvarden, but there was simply not enough time for a safe retreat and the distance was too great for many of the young dragons, the youngest of which being only six months old.

"Lord Eragon," an apprentice, a young human boy recognized as Steghan, called out in surprise and confusion. The red headed boy, around thirteen years of age, sheathed the blade he'd been clumsily swinging about as if he were sparring against an invisible foe.

"Steghan," Eragon bowed his head in greeting. He looked about the room as the apprentices all took notice of him, each human bowing their head and elf touching their lips in respect. "Come, all of you. We must speak..."

Seating at a table, Eragon soon found himself joined by all fourteen of the youngest apprentices. Eragon drew his sword and laid it on the table, causing the others to do the same. After a few minutes of silence, Eragon's eyes drifted from the sword-laden table to each pale-faced apprentice.

"Today, we shall be attacked by ones we once called comrades... Riders and dragons we all knew and loved as our own, our brothers and sisters, but now must call enemy and betrayer.

"I shall not lie to you, just as I have never lied to any of you. The odds on this day are against us by a wider margin than any Elder would lead you to believe. This day and the days following will be known as the Fall of an Era, of an Order. Sacrifices shall be made and much blood will be spent. Therein lies my request...

"Spend this time wisely. This may be the last day that you join for supper together 'round the same table. Spend what time you can with your sisters, your brothers, and your partners... Few have spoken to you, I'm sure, of the pain of losing your partner... It is not something I would wish on anyone, least of all any of you here. I know that none of you have been long bonded, but that will not lessen the pain and grief you will feel if you allow your partner to slip away from you. Guard your partner with your life as, without them, life will be meaningless. To live with half of a soul is hardly a life at all."

Eragon's eyes drifted away from the apprentices and towards the window as the afternoon light drifted lazily in. His gaze settled on the two that had been apprenticed under him, a young pair of elves, both female. One was named Kuarai, the other Cyainir.

"If you wish to write letters to your families, I and every other member of this Order will understand. I have been released of my duties until the battle and am therefore at your disposal. If you wish to ask or tell me anything, do so without hesitance. As I said, I shall not lie and shall answer you as truthfully as I may by the laws of the Order."

Met with silence, Eragon nearly picked up his sword to sheathe it until he noticed Kuarai look to him intently.

"Eragon-ebrithil... If I were to write my father a letter, would you see that it is safely delivered?" she asked, the aloof bravado she nearly always wore beginning to chip and fall away as sadness and acceptance glowed dimly in her slate-blue eyes.

"Upon my honor as a Rider, and my name as Eragon Vraelson, I shall see to it." Switching to the ancient language briefly, Eragon added, "With sword or spell, I shall defend your words dutifully."

"I thank you, Eragon-ebrithil," Kuarai responded in kind quietly before standing and striding away, likely to track down parchment and ink.

Eragon, keeping to his word, stayed with the apprentices for the rest of the day. He had answered questions on the workings of nature, sung happily and mournfully in the elven tongue, accepted letters addressed to fathers, mothers, sisters, and brothers, and more. He helped the apprentices to sharpen their swords and, herding them outside, spoke to their partners as Saphira spoke to the young children.

As the day drew to a close and the young riders were called to join the rest of the Order in the mess hall for supper, Eragon had never felt so sad yet so very proud. Each of the apprentices knew that they would not likely live to the week's end yet they took heed of his words, devoting their time to each other, to themselves, and to their goodbyes. As he watched them from his seat at Vrael's table, Eragon had little hunger.

They would have made wonderful riders, Eragon couldn't help but say to Saphira. Each and every one, if only they'd be given the chance.

Dear one... Can you not see? Saphira asked softly in reply. They already are.

The calm before the storm is unsettling, Eragon noted thoughtfully as he watched the last minute preparations. Dark had fallen quickly the night before, yielding to uneasy sleep and early awakenings. From dawn, the hammerings of armor and sword could be heard through the city. Riders dressed in full battle armor were a common sight along the streets as they ensured that all was ready. The libraries were safely stored in the catacombs hidden under the great city. The blades of the already fallen riders that had managed to be recovered were already sent away on the last ship to the mainland with the last of the non-riders that had made Doru Araeba their home, those who had been smiths, traders, and scholars.

The first warning of the oncoming assault was a single roar that threatened the health of eardrums all around. Colors and shapes flitted by as wild and bonded dragons alike took to the air. Sounds of clashing metal rang sharply and violently through the air, accompanied by the roaring and growling tearing the air above asunder.

And all sense was lost to the ferocity of the battle. There was no past, no future. There was the war.

Days must have passed with little reprieve. Eragon and the other riders were steadily tiring, as were their dragons. So many had already been slain, but the Forsworn and their dark leader were unfailing in their quest for control and power. Powered by thieved Eldunari, the fourteen pairs of rider and dragon broke apart the Order as it existed, tearing and slashing at the bonds of the society that had borne them and the history that had stood for so many years.

Eragon fought with the young apprentices close to his side but was all but helpless to stop as they and their young dragons were cut down before their prime. He watched as hearts broke as he watched dragon and rider be separated by the veil of death, only to be reunited when their other half was also felled.

Even in his sorrow at the loss of such innocence, Eragon could not help but grudgingly respect the Forsworn's methodical destruction of all that he loved. They were swift and strong in each blow, spilling lifeblood without care before moving on to their next victim. He himself was all but distracted as he faced one of the Forsworn as another quickly dispatched the young riders he had spent the day previous with. The Forsworn, a male elf Eragon knew to be named Aegnor, pitted against him did not stop until the second Forsworn finished her work, dispatching the last of the apprentices with ease. Aegnor, seeing his companion finish, offered Eragon a cruel smile before launching into a flurry of blows with renewed vigor. Eragon fought back against the elf as best he could, drawing on the energy stored within the sapphire resting in the pommel of his sword, Brisingr. Fueled by the energy, Eragon pushed Aegnor onto the defensive and, seeing her comrade in increasing danger, the second of the Forsworn, a female elf named Sasha. In the back of his mind, Eragon recalled that the two were mated.

Sasha deftly wove between her mate and Eragon, her brilliant yellow blade parrying Eragon's away from Aegnor's vulnerable side. Caught off guard for just a moment, Eragon was too slow to prevent the two Forsworn from retreating away from him, both dashing towards their next slaughter. Eragon moved to give chase, but stopped at a low gurgle. He froze, his eyes searching the fallen apprentices to see the elf Kuarai reaching out towards her rich purple dragon. Eragon knew that it was too late for the dragon, whose once regal hide was dyed red violet with her own blood. Before he could resist, Eragon was caught in the piteous moment and, though he knew he was wasting potentially valuable time, he sheathed his sword and went to Kuarai's side, kneeling beside her.

"I am here," Eragon said softly, gathering the younger elf in his arms and carefully lifting her up. Kuarai's breath hitched but she did protest as Eragon gently carried her to the purple dragon's side. Laying her carefully down beside her companion, Eragon could not ignore the tears welling in the usually stoic elf's pale eyes.

"Ebrithil..." Kuarai's voice was low and shaking, hardly audible. Eragon took the elf's hand gently, knowing he could do nothing to heal her wounds and acknowledging that, even if he could, it would perhaps be better to let her go. To save Kuarai now would be to condemn her to a life without half of her soul. "My sister lives still in Ceunon... Please tell her... I am sorry... I will not get to meet her mate. Please don't- don't let her mourn... After all..." Tears began to trail down the elf's dirtied face but a smile spread across her lips. "Sainya and I shall be together soon."

"I shall carry your words in my heart, Kuarai... Sleep now... I shall not leave you."

Eragon kept his word. He did not stray from the dying elf's side until her hand grew limp in his and her eyes closed for the last time. Closing his own eyes sadly, Eragon brushed the hair from her face, murmuring a blessing in the ancient language that, wherever she and Sainya were now, they were together and peaceful.

Eyes hardening, Eragon stood from the dead elf's side, retrieving her sword from the ground where it had fallen before moving through the small clearing, collecting the swords of the fallen apprentices. Recalling the words from the ancient language for the unusual spell, Eragon opened a pocket of space so that he could carry the swords easily. He would not let so many works of the elf-smith Rhunon go to Galbatorix so easily. A rider's sword was a symbol of power, hope, and honor. He would not let even one fall into darkness without another option.

Hand tightening around the hilt of his own sword, Eragon's eyes turned to the sky as he searched for Saphira. Spotting her quickly, Eragon was relieved to note that she was holding her own against a slate grey dragon with ease, skillfully manipulating her body so that she could incapacitate him and go for a killing blow. As he watched, the two began to fall to earth, both writhing and growling, jaws snapping at the other. A flicker of indecision and fear was quickly banished by pride and happiness as the two parted hardly a hundred feet from the treeline. Saphira sailed away gracefully as the maroon dragon, still protesting angrily as he tried to catch himself with a clearly broken wing, slam into the trees painfully. Eragon tried not to think of the maroon dragon's fate when the growling and roaring of the dragon ended.

Saphira!

Seeing his thoughts as clearly as her own, Saphira released an angered roar before diving towards him. His grief at the loss of the apprentices was soon overpowered by her rage at her slaughtered kin.

Murderers, she hissed as she landed harshly, her razor sharp talons tearing away at the earth and rock beneath her. Before she had even come to a full stop, Eragon leapt to her saddle and the two were off once more. The Mad One best pray that Vrael ends him swiftly, or I shall prolong his demise.

Rather creative images of blood, fire, and shadows flew from Saphira's mind to Eragon's and he tried his best to keep his composure, trying to assure himself that a swift end for Galbatorix and his followers would be best for all involved.

Speak for yourself, Saphira growled, flying faster and faster towards the center of the fighting. From her back, Eragon watched as Forsworn, both on dragonback and on the ground, fought against their once-allies. The ground was strewn with the dead and the earth so soaked with blood that it ran in red-black streams towards the surrounding forest.

A/N:

I hope you liked it!

I'm going to say it write now: I love the idea of Eragon being a teacher. That in mind, if I continue to have even a little imagination for this universe, then you can expect some mentoring flashbacks within this story or stand alone one shots posted with the disclaimer that they take place in the Vraelson universe.

Now the more fun stuff: I want to thank everyone that's reviewed/favorited/alerted/messaged me about this story and I'd also like to, at the same time, sincerely apologize. If you've read any of my other stuff or if you ask anyone who has, you'll know that I'm a wreck when it comes to updating. I tend to not update for months and then post eight or nine chapters in one night. It's just how I write.

I'm not a fan of the 'posting a chapter on this day each and every week.' In my experience, that makes the chapter messy because I didn't have the time to really think about it. The month-long hiatuses I take are spent writing, plain and simple. I took a break from A Chance to Change (a Naruto time-travel fic) and, in that time, finished the story and wrote a third of the sequel. Then I was ready to update at my own pace even if it frustrated readers.

So again, thank you and I'm sorry for any future cliff hangers (though they'll never be as bad as Mark of Athena or Sherlock, I promise!).

Lots of Love,

Sue

PS: I want to give a special shout out to The Werewolf Assassin right now: thanks for letting me know about the thought speak/italics issue. I already went back and changed it for chapter one. The thing is, I don't actually have Microsoft Office on my laptop so I use Google Drive religiously, meaning I use the cut and paste method to update. Cutting and pasting, though, gets rid of little editing things like italicizing. Sorry for not noticing and thanks for making me aware of the issue! Oh, and thanks for following too!