A/Note: Out of the one hundred and twenty three individuals that have looked at this story, fourty-two have reviewed. That is an amazing thirty-four plus percent. I am amazed and humbled. I want to thank everyone who has contributed to this unfathomable figure. I hope this chapter honors your vigilant efforts. YOU are the ones that ROCK!

{If there are loads of errors, I apologize. My favorite Beta has not responded yet. }

Undermined: Part I

Thorn's silent laughter shook beneath the dragon's padded saddle, but Murtagh felt it all the same. Not only that, but he could also see the ridiculous image that the dragon was dwelling on, making it utterly apparent that Thorn was laughing at his irritable rider.

Don't worry Little Brother, you will get the knack of it... eventually.

The rider's eyes narrowed at Thorn's jesting. In truth Murtagh could not remember being more embarrassed than he had been that very morning. It was one thing to lose a sparing match to the younger rider, and he'd hardly complained about losing the bet with him either, but he hadn't expected he'd have to fulfill his bargain right then and there, with all the curious spectators still watching. And all the while his not-brother had been grinning at him like a drunken dwarf. So went Murtagh's first attempt to learn the Rimgar.

Oh come on, My Fearless One, if the Varden are laughing at you, they aren't hating you. Might not be what you want in the end, but it is a step in the right direction.

How many times had the human rider fallen during his attempts? How many bruises had he acquired? And how many of the onlookers had derived pleasure at seeing his clumsy efforts? The exercise was supposed to bring peace, balance, flexibility, and grace. But none of those benefits had been achieved this day, and he looked back on the occurrence with disdain...

.

"Now try to straighten out... just straighten out the lower torso, while increasing the twist..." the younger rider tried to suggest... But Eragon's words were interrupted.

"I can't," came the exasperated hiss of a reply. "I've tried it already... This is just stupid..."

"You have to keep trying... It takes practice to attain success with the Rimgar... And don't forget that you lost the bet... Now stretch..."

Murtagh fixed his expression into a snarl, and with teeth gritted he tried harder to stretch in the correct direction. Eragon, unable to hold back his amusement at his brother's fierce-comical-seething countenance, burst into a brief fit of laugher... thus ending the red rider's concentration. With a strangled cry, Murtagh fell into a tangle.

.

Having been unable to hold the convoluted position, or even attain it properly for an instant, Murtagh had fallen backwards and landed in a most undignified way. The sounds of laughter were silenced by a sweeping icy glare from the red rider, though there were a few muffled chuckles that trickled in afterwards, once his attention had been sufficiently diverted back to his endeavor. After numerous tries, Murtagh had stated emphatically that he was done with lessons for the day.

If you think I'm ever doing THAT again, you are out of your dragon-mind!

Of course you will... the next time Eragon wins a match, I'd imagine.

Murtagh's only response was an angry glower. Already he was calling to mind images of his earlier spar with his brother, looking for flaws in his performance, areas where he needed to improve. Additionally he summoned every survival fight-trick he could recall, all in an effort to ensure that he never again lost a match. Beneath him, the saddle shook with more of the dragon's laughter.

Joker... the rider growled.

Critic... complained the dragon.

Traitor...

Coward...

That last accusation caused the rider to scowl. It wasn't being a coward to avoid being laughed at. If anything he felt cowardly allowing them to mock him and poke fun.

You are afraid, Murtagh... afraid to have fun... You will face hundreds of soldiers and magicians, by yourself if necessary... but you will not be seen having fun with your brother.

Not-brother... Murtagh corrected bitterly. And we should be concentrating on the battle we are fast approaching.

Fine then... Thorn snorted, not really defeated, but well aware that his rider had a point about the battle part.

.

During the past month much had happened. It had been decided that the emerald egg would be transported to the elves in Du Weldenvarden for a year, in the hopes that a rider would be found among the elves. All those involved had agreed that a contingent of elves should come to retrieve the egg, rather than to have Eragon and Saphira bring it. For no one had fully trusted the enemy rider not to turn traitor again if the blue pair were to leave.

Two weeks passed as they waited for the elven party to arrive. During this time Nasuada had utilized the opportunity, allowing members of the Varden to reach out to the egg in hopes of triggering a hatching, but it hadn't happened. By the time the elves appeared to collect the egg, nearly half of the population at Feinster had touched the cool smooth surface and left in disappointment. And then it was gone; spirited off by the elves.

Thorn had felt his own disappointment, for his heart yearned to see the green dragon hatch. But in the weeks that followed, he had accepted this loss. As long as the egg was safe and free, that was what mattered the most.

And it was safe. Just two days prior, they had received word from Islanzadi stating that the egg was safe within the elven lands. Now, according to the agreement, if it didn't hatch for the elves within the year, it would be returned to the Varden to test the humans for an acceptable candidate. Only the egg could be the judge in this matter. And that was as it should be.

The whole operation had been kept as secret as possible, and it was this very secrecy that had led to the altercation lying before them now. For the king, not knowing that the egg had been moved, had ordered an attack on Feinster. The plan was not to retake the city, but to recover the stolen egg. His orders also included the assassination of the traitorous red rider... to make an example of Morzan's son once and for all.

The Varden spy had been certain of his information, and indicated on the map, the foothills of the unnamed mountain to the north of Feinster. This was to be the intended gathering place of the king's forces. And that was just where the Varden would strike.

Even though she encountered some intense opposition, Nasuada had chosen to send Murtagh and Thorn to aid Thadon Dornson. Dornson was one of her new commanders, and he had been charged with intercepting the empire's attack forces and dealing with them before they reached the city. Feinster was still recovering from the Varden siege, and in it's fragile state, it could not take another wide-swept battle. And as a precaution, Eragon, Saphira, and the generals remained to guard the city. That way if it became necessary, the blue pair could fly out to assist the Varden troops.

.

The freedom fighters, led by Dornson, had the element of surprise on their side, as the king's soldiers would not be expecting the attack. And with a dragon rider, it should be a simple thing to end the matter on the plains. That was the general plan anyways. It seemed almost too easy, and as they drew closer to the place where the empire's soldiers were supposed to be, Murtagh grew uneasy.

Shouldn't they be just over this rise? Thorn asked, curiosity turning into concern...

The mental nod that Murtagh replied with did little to reassure the dragon as they glided over the rise and saw no sign of the enemy in the valley beyond. This was going to completely change the battle plans...

What battle plans? The empire isn't here, so there won't be any battle...

They are here Thorn... I can feel the shielded minds of the enemy. They are spread out thin... and invisible... But why?... and where?

This made no sense at all. There was no trace of the amount of magic it would take to hide such a spread out force. So why couldn't the airborne pair find any trace of their foes?

We better find them soon, the Varden four-leggs are almost to the ridge.

The Varden troops were currently all on horses in the hopes that a speedy arrival would surprise the enemy. Each animal carried two riders, a swordsman that would then leap off into the battle, and an archer that would remain in the saddle for the duration. It was a twist on the original plans that Commander Dornson had added, and he made no attempt to hide his self approval over his cleverness. The whole of the attack force was even now straining to reach the top of the target ridge.

Blast it! Where are they...

Murtagh, isn't that strange? That pattern on the ground along the inside of the ridge... It looks almost like footprints in sand.

Murtagh let Thorn's musings draw his eyes back to the edge. The ground formation did look strange, now that the rider had noticed it. The 'footprints' certainly weren't natural, being rather evenly spaced, and following precisely the inner edge of the rise. And it wasn't just one row, but three rows deep.

Something about the sight triggered a memory in the red rider, and in a flash he scanned further out across the valley. The marks, the rows followed the curve of the ridge and then continued arching around the edge of the valley, ending up completing a circle.

The Fairy Rings... Murtagh gasped as the truth of their situation hit him. Thorn momentarily thought his rider had lost his mental control, but that changed as Murtagh showed him an image of a battle plan he had once seen. The drawing had been scribbled down by one of the king's more dangerous generals, General Kreigor. He was the son of the recently appointed Lord of Dras Leona, Lord Melfonse Ankorson, and his incredible loyalty to Galbatorix, as well as his arsenal of dirty tricks had gained him the kings favor. Kreigor's troops and magicians were also trained to fight dirty, which gave him an unusual advantage in battle when compared to the other imperial armies.

Murtagh remembered his brief encounter with Kreigor. The warrior loved to employ deception and the setting of traps, and so far to his credit the general had yet to lose a battle to the enemy. This was clearly one of those traps. 'The Fairy Rings' he had called it. Murtagh was certain. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the red rider realized that from the very beginning their plan had been compromised. The information that the spy obtained must have been planted intentionally to draw out the Varden force... They had to be warned before the entire mission was undermined.

"Retreat! Pull back... It's a trap!" the rider called out with an amplified voice. But the commander, seeing no sign of danger urged the men onward. And the ruby pair watched in shock as the first wave of the Varden troops began to cross into The Fairy Rings.

"NO!" The son of Morzan raged at the turn of events. Rider and dragon were one in their dismay, and they were one in their response to the danger... It was not part of the agreed upon strategy... nor some back up contingency plan... It was a purely instinctive reaction... take out the enemy. Setting his sights on the nearest ground depression, the ruby dragon dove for the ground, intent upon ripping out as many of the hidden foes as he was able.

It was a frightening sensation that fell on the men of the Varden. Ice filled their veins as the crimson dragon bore down on them; a roar of battle erupting from deep within the dragon's chest, a blood red inferno pouring from his jaws, a furious rider atop his shoulders with 'sword of misery' drawn and held high. The awesome sight seemed to slow down time... The rebel riders balked. Horses reared. And the greatest part of the Varden troops were physically redirected, pressed back from the top of the rise by the sheer unstoppable charging bulk of muscle and scale, tooth, and claws.

Thorn hit the ground running, his weight causing a series of concussions that matched his loping gait. As he ran along the rows that lined the rise, his claws tore up the earth. Great chunks of sand and debris were flung to the sides with every stride, raining down upon the gaping Varden Army, and exposing the hidden enemy beneath the surface. Of course this method of unveiling the danger left many of the newly exposed soldiers either injured or dead... but not all. Some of the enemy managed to pull themselves unscathed from the settling dust, and in the initial confusion they were not immediately noticed by the stunned freedom-fighters. They were still transfixed on the rampaging dragon charging past them, and continuing along the ridgeline in an arc.

The Varden commander was incensed by the complete and utter disruption of his plans. First the empires forces were nowhere to be seen, and then the cursed red dragon had bowled through the ranks effectively diverting the charge. The horses that had been nearest to the path of the stampeding dragon had thrown their riders and ran off in terror. Even as Thorn continued his run on the rows, and moved beyond the reaches of the stunned attacking forces, the men of the Varden were left unsure as to just where -and who- the enemy was.

*Shhhhannnnng!*

"Watch your back... the kings troops are rising from the ground..."

The sound of steel meeting steel barely preceded the warning cry. And the initial terror that sounded in the voice caused the soldiers to pull their attention to the new threat. The survivors of Thorn's rage were emerging from their collapsed bunkers and they immediately took up the fight...

The battle had begun.

Posted: 8-19-2011 (revised slightly 10-10-2011)

A/Note:

The battle was originally supposed to be concluded before the first quarter of chapter... I had planned to cram so much good stuff into it. But when I reached the sixth page, and the battle was only just starting, it made me decide to break things up a bit.

Now I see that to do it justice, and not make people wait for weeks, that I need to break it up into ...{counts on fingers...} probably three smaller chapters.

Hope you enjoy! And please Read & Review... :D