Chapter 19

Little and green

~O~

Nasuada looked up and down the barrier of bodies that stretched from the one corner of her vision to the next. They had grown, tremendously, and she had barely noticed. She had been stuck so over her head in worry and guilt that she had not noticed her father's work, her work, their work grow, expand. This is our army, Nasuada thought smugly, now you bring us yours.

It was a silly way of thinking of course. No doubt that Galbatorix army was even bigger, but the sudden realisation of just how their masses had grown, was so overwhelming, Nasuada could do nothing to stop such thoughts whirring beneath her skull.

She had taken control of the only thing she could. Timing. Her timing would come to a surprise to the town. They were known to have lunch 12 on the dot, and Nasuada had made sure her men had eaten beforehand. Now they were lined up in as orderly a crowd as Nasuada could get them and repeated; for our future, for our freedom, for our country.

Nasuada nodded at Islanzadí, then at Orik and then at the Herndall- the current leader of the Kull and Urgals. This is history in the making.

~O~

Eragon crept forwards, rolling beneath the cloth of a table just before the maid appeared. Her eyes were entirely white as if possessed, or rolled back into her skull. Eragon shuddered. He scrambled back up and helped Arya out of a basket. How she had managed to get into it in the few seconds warning they had had, he did not now, but he was happy she had managed it.

They tiptoed onwards, but barely a step later, there were more footsteps and they had no choice but to throw themselves into hiding places.

This is not working, Arya commented from across the room in a large cupboard.

I am aware of that! What do we do?

Disappear? Arya suggested.

Surely you're not giving up all ready! Eragon joked. He knew what she meant and murmured the words in the ancient language. A second passed then he could not see his arms anymore, then his torso, his legs and eventually his feet.

All set, you?

Arya sent him a mental nod and they stood up, smashing into each other as they stepped into the hall.

Arya let out a low groan. Be careful! She felt her way from Eragon's arm to his face.

That's my nose…

Good, she said and slapped him.

Eragon was stunned. It had not hurt particularly much, but still, he was surprised at Arya's response. He stayed strong and waddled on keeping his hand against the wall so as not to lose his balance.

~O~

It had been a very late reflex. Indeed VERY late, which is why Arya understood Eragon's confusion. His mind had long since moved on. He is concentrating on his job! A voice in the back of her mind accused.

'Do you still not love me? Do you still not love me? Do you still not love me?'

It annoyed her that the question would not stop turning around her head. That is why she slapped him. Was it logical? No, but even Elves have their irrational moments. At least Arya hoped as much…

She refused to apologise even so. What could she say? If it was not for that question, it was for some other dumb deed Eragon had done, or would do…

It was the NOT that stung her most. For Christ's sake, she was doing it AGAIN! Why could she not stop thinking about…

Arya stopped still, as had Eragon. A dozen soldiers flooded into the narrow passage. Arya looked at them in horror. The unbelievably quiet and helmeted men were storming, with simultaneous steps straight towards them.

Eragon…she warned. He had already seen it.

"run," he hissed and they both turned on their heel.

~O~

It's a pretty flower don't you agree?

Aye, but beauty never lasts

Wait 'til the autumn, you will see

Death, a shadow on us casts

The flower is wilting…

I did warn you so

The stem is tilting!

The path we all go

Which path would that be?

The path of life

~O~

Thorn flew. Wildly, desperately, he battled through the winds. Why was it that his flight was so clumsy? So bulky and of course? Why was his flight not Elegant and beautiful like the blue dragon's was?

Saphira.

What? Thorn was confused. Murtagh had told him he did not know the dragons name.

And as far as distractions go, I think you have a point, Murtagh continued.

What is that supposed to mean? Thorn grumbled, his patience was hanging in tatters.

You…

Thorn ripped his eyes open as Murtagh sent him his thoughts, stopping mid-air. Murtagh sighed.

We're falling, he commented solemnly.

Take it back, Thorn demanded.

What that my dragon is 'distracted'? Murtagh taunted.

They were falling faster now. The air was rushing passed their ears and Thorn could feel the sense of panic slowly rising in his master.

Yes that.

No.

Why not?

Because it's true.

~O~

He could not run. He had told Arya to do it, why was he not doing it? Most probably she had already done it. RUN! His mind demanded. He could not. His mouth was dry, his palms sweating and his knees, well he could not see them, but he swore they had been attached to the floor.

"Rïsa" he hissed, finding no other answer, and the next thing he knew his head was hitting the ceiling. He watched the soldiers storm beneath him. What would they think if he made himself visible? Would they even notice him?

Once they had passed, Eragon immediately let himself back down. He was not tired, but he did not want to risk draining his power.

After a lot of fumbling and describing, he found Arya and they set of in the direction of the map, which they had to turn invisible on the outside but not on the inside, so that it was protected from unwanted eyes but still readable.

Every hall way was arched and decorated with increasingly vivid and cruel images of torture, war or simply, plain duals, often picturing Eragon dying. I don't think he likes me much… he reported back to Arya she sighed, nothing more and continued walking.

Eventually the passages passed and the rooms grew bigger so much so that when Eragon and Arya went through a smaller- or in most cases normal- sized room, they were suspicious. It might also have been the gigantic stone block in the middle of the room though…

Okay…Надам се да се свиђа, which is serbian for; Hope you like it! Yay! Okay...you get the picture, I gedit, so reviews:

E.B: thank you

Jam123; THANK GOODNESS for that, i would have NEVER been able to continue living if you had not forgiven me! The poemS are...you don't really expect me to tell you do you? Do you really know me that little? Whatever c u at school tomtoms, DO NOT FORGET THE COMIC!

R.F: no, not exactly, Galbatorix, in my story probably an insane, maybe schizzophrenic sychopath (or something along those lines) has painted the many ways he would enjoy killing his enemies-Eragon-on the walls of his castles...or let it be painted. Well, chapter 17, Thorn and Murtagh turn up, which Roran interpratates as BAD...and untimely because as it is a BAD thing, it might take longish and therefore endanger, Nasuada's perfect timing for her battle against Galby