A/N: I'm back! Again, my apologies for the length of time between updates recently. Anyway, enjoy this chapter. And leave a review if you have time.
Vanir rode into battle atop Aura, his plain; but elegant elven sword at the ready as the purple dragoness leased a fearsome battle cry. The sensation of flying into battle rather than running on foot was rather strange to Vanir, but he had to force his mind from it and concentrate on his sword.
His mind wasn't melded with Aura's, and, as a result, he didn't notice the ten human men creeping upon her left flank. It was only after Aura's roar of indignation and pain that he leapt from her back and resolutely hammered one of the men (who had been unfortunate enough to be shoved to the front of the grouping over the head) with the leather-bound butt of his sword. Wary, the humans raised their swords in defence whilst Vanir grinned wickedly. They didn't even see his sword move, but suddenly their heads were no longer attached at the neck.
The tide of battle often separated Vanir and Aura, but they would reunite as soon as possible. The tens of men who blocked Aura's path to her rider would be incinerated within their suits of armour after a tempest of fire cooked them alive, sending the acrid smell of burnt flesh wafting over the heads of everyone in the desert.
Vanir coughed into his elbow, trying to shield his face from the smoke.
How much longer is this going to take, Vanir? Aura asked, already bored with renting puny humans apart with her talons and teeth.
Vanir ignored her whine and looked up just in time to block a vicious attack on one of Aura's wings. The human in question was dressed all in black, their face twisted inexplicably complete abhorrence, stronger than anything Vanir had seen before, and in his bewilderment, he received a sharp cut across the palm of one of his hands.
Ah!
Vanir's pain rebounded through the mental link and in answer Aura growled deeply, the noise rumbling through the caverns of her chest. Her paw shot out and struck the guilty man square in the chest, holding his against the floor and exerting infinitesimally more pressure until he literally had the life squashed out of him.
Hungry to spill more blood, Aura bounded forwards into the ranks of Trianna's human army, knocking them over and grabbing some in her maw, before tossing them up into the air, their necks breaking as their heads left her mouth.
Typical, Vanir muttered. My dragon is a warmonger.
Well I am wild, my dear Rider.
The statement, however, won no amusement from Vanir, who was too busy concentrating on wielding his weapon. There was now a steady stream of blood running down the blade's silver length and staining the cuff of his tunic, despite the fact that he was wearing a glove for the purpose of preventing such damage.
The battle raged on and on with no direction: Eragon and Arya had disappeared early on and there was no sign of either Saphira or Groenur. Occasionally, they would pass other elves and wherever they went, choruses of cheers from their allies followed them. And although they searched the skies whenever they had chance, neither Vanir nor Aura ever caught sight of Evandar or Jarla coming to aid the allied effort.
Vanir's hand began to burn with the effort of holding his sword when the leather-bound hilt was slippery with his own blood. The wound continued to throb though it did not look serious. Over-exertion caused both dragon and rider to become sloppy in their movements and they were once more separated when Vanir leapt to the ground to help two of his fellow elves who were more grievously wounded and outnumbered three to one.
All Vanir saw was the clash of metal and his mind was absorbed in running through the battle moves he would make. Defend. Block. Slash. Flank. Parry. Overhead. Right. Feint. Spin. Dodge. Cut. Jump. Stab.
Aura's distress did not initially cut through his preoccupation. But when it did, Vanir's fingers went numb and his sword dropped from his lifeless hand.
His feet carried his quicker than ever, barely touching the ground, to take him to the great, indigo dragoness who limped over the ground because of a broken bone in her leg. An enemy magician cackled as he whispered words to make her wail and cringe in pain.
"Stop!" Vanir commanded, his shout echoing in the open plain over the clang of metal striking metal.
In answer, the magician cracked a bone in Aura's wing. She roared in fury, her agony tingeing her purple vision red. Recklessly and without any weapon, Vanir ran forwards and closed his hands around the magician's throat so he could not voice the words that were causing Aura pain. But her suffering continued as the magician used his mind to do magic, his eyes bulging with the effort of his concentration. Eventually the power of Vanir's elven strength won out and the breath was squeezed from the human and his black magic stopped.
Aura almost sighed in relief, but choked when she saw what was dangling above her neck. As his last act, the magician had summoned a dagger from the battlefield and enchanted it to hang above Aura, threatening to end her life. Now that there was no magic holding it in the air, it began to dip perilously.
Seeing this, Vanir threw himself forwards, a primal scream of determination and love forcing itself from his throat.
No protests from Aura were in time to stop him.
The knife came down.
The sunlight flashed off the white metal that turned red so quickly as it sunk into unprotected flesh between two hard rib bones and the precious life-blood began to seep out around the wound.
A/N: I know. I'm mean. There's a cliffie. No-one knows who got hit with the dagger; except me, of course. Anyway, leave a review.