A/N: Thanks so much to IzXIzzieXIzzahtul and Jessie for their encouragement. I probably would have dropped the story if it weren't for you :).
Writing reviews really helps-- constructive criticism helps me improve, and I really appreciate people giving me feedback on what they thought about the story, whether they liked it or not. If you wouldn't mind sparing a minute to write about an error you found, or a word of encouragement, please do so, I really look forward to reviews! Thanks!
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Arya, Eragon, and Saphira stood in front of Nasuada, who had frozen, looking at them in shock and horror. She closed her eyes and took a moment to recompose herself.
"Trianna." Nasuada shook her head, the beads in her hair clacking as they swayed back and forth. "I should have known. She'd always given me a bad feeling. But, who will take her place among the Varden's spellcasters? Who will…" Her voice faltered. Then, an expression of renewed determination crossed her face as she contemplated the complex situation. "It seems that Galbatorix has more people posted here than we thought. Where on earth did she get so much strength and energy to hold both you and Saphira as prisoner?"
Arya and Eragon exchanged a worried glance.
"We cannot tell you." Arya finally said, after a long silence. "It is one of the greatest secrets of Alagaesia. Nobody cannot interrogate from you what you do not know."
Nasuada pursed her lips. "Don't tell me you are keeping this information from me merely because you wish to keep me safe?"
Eragon nodded. "That, and the rest of the millions of beings out there."
Then, very subtly, Nasuada reached towards the three of them with her mind, Is it the source of Galbatorix's power?
Neither Arya nor Eragon made a move to answer.
Nasuada sighed. "Very well, I respect that. You are dismissed."
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-Seven days later, flying over the Hadrac desert back to Ellesmera with Akvthghae.
Eragon and Saphira soared high in the night sky, so as to avoid being spotted by soldiers. Arya sat behind Eragon, and both of them had their minds linked to Akvthghae, and were listening to Akvthghae tell them of Galbatorix's magic.
With the right training, Akvthghae murmured You could defeat Galbatorix. You, hatchling, are currently no more than a bumbling fool. But I will address you with the honorific of 'finiarel' because you are indeed full of potential. We will first aid Ellesmera in its battle against the empire, but we will train until the red-dragon Rider arrives. I trust that when the time comes, you will be able to defeat your half-brother. Eragon recoiled. How did Akvthghae know that Murtagh was not only related to him, but he was, to be precise, his half brother? Hatchling, I am one with all of Alagaesia. How can I not know? The trees moan to me, the grasses and the winds whisper to me, and the animals speak of all sorts of going-ons. Eragon mumbled something about privacy, but he did not argue with the old Eldunari.
The group ascended as the first rays of dawn began to spread across Alagaesia. They ate and drank, and while Eragon and Saphira slept (or went into the elf-like state of peace for Eragon), Arya took the first guard shift. It wasn't long before Eragon leapt out of the tent, his armor half-donned, and his sword in his right hand. Arya had her sword drawn as well. Akvthghae had alerted both of them to the presence of men on horses. It was not long before they saw the men in the distance, because the wormy desert scrub was the only vegetation there—incapable of concealing even a rabbit, let alone a group of twenty something men.
Eragon and Arya took some steps forward. The men temporarily disappeared behind a dune that Eragon knew could not be there, so close to the edge of the desert. With his mind, he found the magician who was creating the illusion, rammed down the protective barriers around the man's mind, and asked Friend or foe? But the man did not answer—his thoughts were thrown into a state of disarray due to his fear of Eragon. Don't kill me don't kill me!
Eragon caught a few flickers of images and thoughts. Then, he crushed the magician.
"Slavers." He said to Arya. "A pregnant woman just died naught but a few seconds ago. They enslaved a pregnant woman, and about ten others."
Arya's eyes grew cold. "Well, I can see that you've gotten rid of whoever was making the illusion."
With the magician dead, Eragon and Arya could see that it was not just twenty horsebacked men, there was another twenty, all armored and carrying a weapon, with thirty or so women chained to their horses. They left the corpse of the pregnant woman behind them. Eragon noticed that there were no children, or men. As they drew closer, the women all seemed to be of a young age, perhaps seventeen or so. A wagon rattled behind them, pulled by two starving horses.
Then, the group stopped about forty feet from Eragon and Arya. The men eyed Saphira with a fearful interest. They then nodded towards Eragon's blade, then drew their own.
"Oh, back-stabbing Empire-traitor," one man drawled towards Eragon. "Before we exchange blows, let me make a proposition." He grinned, scratching his disgusting lice-infested beard. "As you see, you are sorely outnumbered. We have here forty well-trained men, and we wear the protection of the king and are bound to him, though we are not his soldiers. Let us pass and we will inflict no harm upon you, or your currently slumbering dragon."
"No." Eragon stated simply.
Eragon, I know you can handle these men, but do you need me to toast them into crisps right now?
Saphira, these are slavers. If you burn them, I fear you may burn their hostages as well. You are right, Arya and I are more than a match for these men. Go back to sleep so that you may be energized for our long flight tonight. Saphira agreed.
"Well, then, let me make another proposition. Defeat ten of our best swordsmen. If you can do that, we will turn our hostages over to you. If not, you give us that fine young girl." He pointed his grubby finger to Arya. Then, in a flurry of movement so fast that only Eragon noticed, Arya threw a dagger at the outstretched finger. The spinning dagger and the severed digit fell to the ground, the crimson blood seeping into the hot yellow sand. There was not even time for the man to realize what had happened and contemplate the his shock. Arya stepped forward, covering the distance in a matter of seconds. This time, it was the man's head that fell to the ground.
The horse did not budge, as Arya had been calming it with her mind the entire time. The group gaped at the frighteningly strange scene: a beautiful woman just beheaded their leader, and his horse did not even rear in surprise or fear.
"A life for a life!" Shouted one man, then stabbed the young woman next to him with his sword. There was screaming from the enslaved women as the man withdrew his bloodied sword from her torso, and she fell to the ground. The other men laughed.
And then there was death.
It was mostly Arya—Eragon had never seen her so enraged. She flew at the soldiers, spinning, kicking, dodging, stabbing, twisting, and blocking. Eragon guarded her back, and calmed the animals.
When the fighting was over, Eragon bade the women to get onto the horses. He saw that in the wagon, there was a store of dry foods. He fed some of the dried apples to the emaciated horses, then helped draw water from the ground, but away from the blood.
"Head southwest from here" he said, unlacing a compass from the corpse of a slaver. "Get to Bullridge, on the Ramr river. If you want, you can follow the river north to Gil'ead. Be careful."
After the group thanked Eragon and Arya, they headed toward the direction Eragon had indicated. As soon as they were out of sighed, Eragon twisted around, and advanced towards Arya. The situation sent a pang of pain through him as he remembered encountering a similar dilemma, but with Murtagh at his side.
"You killed them so decisively, Arya. You killed them for WHAT REASON?" Eragon had never been so enraged at Arya before. She merely stared back at him, her eyes cold. She then lowered her eyes, and cleaned her sword. Eragon turned around, and picked his way through the bodies to see if he could save anyone. There was a man who moaned, and Eragon turned to see who, but Arya was faster.
"Jierda," she whispered, and the man was silent.
Eragon stopped walking. A chill crept over him. This was not the Arya that he knew.
"ARYA. WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Eragon sprinted towards her, tripping over bodies and limbs. He grabbed her shoulders, and shook her, hard. Something on Arya's face glinted.
A single tear slipped from her emotionless eyes, and swirled with the blood and grime on her cheek. It was followed by another, then another and another, and the tears gathered at her chin, than dripped down, seeping into her collar.
"Arya," Eragon whispered. "Why?"