The Herbalist's Apprentice
by the Lady of the Mists
Chapter Five: The Battle of Farthen Dûr
They seemed to come at once, as thought some magic had brought them here by instantly appearing before them. Sandry held her sword steady as she watched the lines of Urgals and Ra'zac emerge on the horizon, all determined to take down the rebels in one, swift stroke. Well, however much they may want it to, numbers did not win a battle.
"No," a quiet voice said from behind her. "But I bet they help." Sandry turned around, a few strands of hair whipping into her face as she stared, wide-eyed, into the face of her brother.
He grinned once, moving into place next to her. Unlike her first sight of him, where he'd been wearing simple clothes, that of a nobleman, he now wore chain mail and armour, a shield on his left arm and a sword held loosely in his right. Sandry couldn't help staring at him.
"I'm Peter," he said quietly. "I'm your—"
"Brother," she finished up for him. He blinked at her, surprised by her correct statement. "I know."
Although he looked like he wanted desperately to ask her how she knew that, Peter held back his question, his identical blue eyes turning towards the mass of Urgals and Ra'zacs forming on the enemy's lines.
"Try not to do something stupid, all right?" he told her with a small smile. "Like getting yourself killed."
She supposed that she was supposed to be upset at him for the way that he phrased the question, but she knew that he only meant what she felt in heart too. Neither one of them wanted to lose the other, not now that they had found one another.
"You either," she told him, giving him a small smile before she turned her attention back to the enemy's ranks. It felt like hours to Sandry, but in reality it was only a matter of seconds as the two armies charged forward and began the battle that would change their destines forever.
Sandry felt as though every time that she managed to cut down on Urgal, several more appeared. Peter managed to stay next to her, slicing down the enemies with an expertise that she didn't expect. He grinned at her as he took down another Urgal.
"Expect that you want a lot of answers, don't you?" he yelled at her over the sounds of battle.
"I really don't think now is the best time!" she shrieked at him, ducking under an enemy's sword and plunging her own into his chest. "This isn't the ideal place for a family reunion!"
"But it might be the only time we've got for explanations!" Peter yelled back. "Don't you want to know who our father is?"
Sandry froze and almost got impaled by a sword had Peter not swung his own sword towards the Urgals. Coming back to her senses, she shouted, "Honestly, what do you expect? That we can—" she grunted as she shoved her sword into a Ra'zac "—come to terms this quickly, decide that our father is complete moronic jerk, then join together and be the best of friends?" She glared at him furiously.
Peter was unscathed by her glare. "It's as good a plan as any!" he replied. "Listen, Sandry, you really want to spend what's likely to be our last night mad and furious with me about something that I've got absolutely no control over, then that's fine with me. I just think that there may be other options, you know? There's plenty of worst ways that we could be getting acquainted with one another," he joked.
"Name one!" she told him, kicking down an Urgal and sending him flying into two of his friends. They tumbled one-by-one down the staircase.
"In Galbatorix's dungeons," he responded. Sandry stared at him, then shook her head.
"Good point," she remarked. "Look out!" She grabbed Peter and yanked them both out of range as arrows came flying out of nowhere. "Is there no end to them?" she wondered out loud as more of the Urgals came around the corner, seeing the brother and sister.
"Doesn't look like it," Peter replied. "Of course, we could always go for the noblest of traditions."
"That being?"
"Running away," he replied. At her incredulous, he grinned. "I'm kidding! Just kidding! Jeez, have you got no sense of humour or something!"
"I've got plenty! I just think that there are times to use and times when you shouldn't. In the middle of a battle that's about to claim all of our lives, that's not exactly the best place to be spitting out humour like that!" Sandry plunged her sword into the Urgal.
"It's better to have humour in the middle of a battle than none at all," Peter replied calmly.
"Oh!" Sandry wasn't sure if she wanted to knock him upside the head or just punch him in the nose. Either one of those options was sounding really good at the moment. Unfortunately, neither one was considerable at the moment as she ducked to avoid another sword. "Okay, we're completely outnumbered here!"
"Yeah, run!" Peter pushed Sandry ahead of him and they ran ahead as Peter yanked snatched up a bow and arrow from one of the dead Varden. Managing to light the tip of the arrow, Peter nocked the arrow and let it release towards the Urgals. As he lit them on fire, they screamed in pain and anguish.
Sandry didn't stop to see what happened to them; both she and Peter ducked down to avoid the ceiling that came crumbling down overhead. She screamed his name as he was hit by one of the pieces and fell to the ground, covering his head.
Fury and rage spun through her and she plunged into the depths of her power, to where she could find her inner strength. "Blöthr!" she screamed as the rocks plunged towards them. They froze in midair, hovering above them as she spun them in the opposite direction.
Peter scrambled to his feet, blue eyes wide as he watched her. But not with fear in them, she realised. With admiration and astonishment. "Is there any of ours up there?" she shouted at him. She couldn't see where she was standing if there were.
"No!" he yelled back triumphantly. "Only some slimy assassins and other ugly beasts!"
Sandry couldn't help but chuckle at his description of the Urgals and Ra'zac, but held her concentration as she used all of her might to shove the rocks towards their enemies. "Fram jierda," she called as she heard someone let out a roar from behind her. Peter lunged to strike down the enemy and she looked back, losing her concentration at the wrong moment. Instead of moving forward to strike the enemies, it blocked them from moving anywhere near the rest of the cave.
"Well, at least they won't be getting anywhere near us," Peter observed as he plunged his sword into his sister's near-killer. Sandry grinned as she saw more Urgals coming their way. "Great, there's more of them. I was hoping that the rocks would keep them off of us for awhile."
"I definitely think that I've seen enough of them to last me a lifetime," Sandry agreed, thrusting her sword into the Urgal. "Don't you have any better things to do than come here and attack us? Wiarta!" she yelled, using the word for water in the ancient language.
Water spun through her hand, diving into the Urgals who approached, forcing them back. By the time that they recovered, both brother and sister had disappeared, taking the back passage to get back to the battle.
"I think we've got them at a run!" Peter yelled as he saw the Urgals and Ra'zac retreating. Sandry let out a laugh, but she couldn't help but feel worried. "Look happy, sister, we won!"
"But they shouldn't have given up so easily!" Sandry protested. "Not unless the Shade was dead!" Panic rose through her and her eyes went wide, fearing for Eragon's safety. "Eragon!"
She raced away from her bewildered brother, hurrying down the steps with Peter right behind her as she searched the battleground for Eragon, praying against all odds that she was wrong.
It didn't take her long to find him. He was with Saphira and dragons, above everything else, weren't easy to hide because they were so big. She found them on the very outskirts of the fortress, both unconscious, though Saphira was faring better than Eragon.
"Oh, gods!" was the first thing that Peter said when he saw them. Sandry ignored him, running to Eragon and squatting down beside him. She snatched open her healer's pack, praying that she would have the strength of will and the ability to save him.
"Go find some help!" she half-screamed at Peter. He didn't waste any time; he took off, leaving Sandry to tend to her patient. She tried to stay calm, but she didn't want to think of the possibility that this might be the one patient that she wouldn't be able to save.
Don't lose heart, daughter, a voice spoke in her mind. Sandry half-froze as the voice spoke, recognising it from a far-away place, when that same voice had told her to run, that she loved her but this was the way it must be.
"Mother?" she whispered.
Have faith, Sandrine. Do not lose heart that you will lose him the way that I lost your father. Hold him close to you this night, for he is near death. He is a part of you, as we are all a part of each other.
Sandry swallowed, unable to comprehend what was happening, but realised that there were stronger forces of magic here than could be understand. And after all, love was the most powerful thing in the universe. It was often times understood, but nothing came close to it.
"Eragon!" she shouted, grasping his hand tightly and grasping her hands on his shoulders. "Please hold on, for me. I need you here. You must come back to the land of living, Argetlam," she added, "because there are people here that need you. The battle is over, Eragon, we won. Do not let yourself become a casualty of this war, not here, not ever. Come back to us, because it is not time to go the shadow world just yet. It's not your time. I know it's not."
She opened up an ointment and applied it to his wounds, slowly and carefully. In her frantic fear, she had forgotten the most important thing about being a healer: calmness. That was the most important thing, she could not lose control.
"You've saved us all," Sandry whispered. "You did it, Eragon; you killed the Shade. And now your journey is simply the beginning of a legend. One day, they shall tell fantastic tales of Eragon and his dragon Saphira. Every generation, a legend is born. Some have fallen defending for what is right. Do not follow that glorious tradition. Make your own and be proud of the legacy that you have brought."
Tears sprung to her eyes as she felt him stir ever so slightly, feeling some warmth come back into his body. "Please come back, Eragon," she whispered softly, brushing his blond hair out of his face. "Because I need you."
She bent over him and slowly let her lips touch his, capturing him in a small, quiet, perfect kiss. The moment lasted too short as more healers arrived to help her revive their greatest hope, but that moment changed Sandry forever, as so many had before that one.