Great, there's two featherless four-legged vultures, two hooded figures, and a hundred soldiers after us. The vultures and all of the archers, that's about forty soldiers, are after me, and the sixty remaining soldiers as well as the ones with the hoods are going after Eragon, Brom, Random Kid One, and Random Kid Two.
I was trying to get to the water, but the vultures kept on blocking me, and then the archers would start shooting. I'd already gotten hit by three arrows, two through my left wing and another one in my right leg. I tore the arrow out and grimaced as pain shot through my leg. Still, having a huge piece of wood buried in my leg didn't hurt as much as I'd expected. Maybe because this is cliche-land and I'm one of the invincible main characters.
"Here, catch!" I called, and sent the arrow flying at one of the vultures. The piece of steel-tipped wood hit its back and bounced off.
The archers fired another volley of arrows at me. I tried to fly above their range, but the other vulture stopped me. None of the arrows hit me, though, and I managed to catch one in my hand. Take that, you trained soldiers! I stabbed it into the vulture's stomach. It screeched and fell to the ground, flattening four archers underneath its body.
"Five down, thirty-seven more to go," I said.
Another wave of arrows flew at me, and again I tried to escape upwards. The other vulture grabbed me in its talons, leaving bloody scratches on my arms. I struggled, but its grip was completely merciless. It was obviously peeved at me for injuring its mate.
I stabbed my dagger up into its neck, and a fountain of dark blue-green blood gushed out of the wound. The vulture-bat tried to scream, but the only sound that came out was a small gurgle as a blood bubble popped out of its beak. Its beady black eyes went blank, and it fell, dragging me down with it in its death grip. I pulled the dagger out of the beast's neck and hacked at its claws, trying to make it let go. Just as I was about to slam into the ground, I managed to release its hold on me and darted away.
I sheathed my dagger, making the inside of the scabbard wet and sticky with blood. Then I dived into the really big lake that was conveniently sitting right next to me.
I dragged myself onto the east shore of Tudosten, coughing and spluttering.
After washing the dagger and its sheath, I stood up and turned towards the forest.
Then the ferns in front of me began waving, and I pulled out my dagger. The weird sword guy that Brom and Eragon had been talking to in the Quacking Moose came out from behind them. I should make Durza a verb. Everyone likes jumping out from behind bushes now.
The guy asked, "Where did you go to while we were running?"
"Does that matter?" I asked. "Right, where are we going?"
He didn't respond, just led me over to the southeast part of the woods.
"You have got to be kidding me," I said flatly when I saw why he had brought me there.
A bunch of green and grey tents were bunched together. The people without tents were huddled underneath blankets that had been draped over tree branches. There were around three hundred people there, mostly men and boys, many of which were wounded. They looked up when we neared them, but quickly relaxed when they saw the boy I was with.
We ducked into a blue tent larger than the others. Eragon, Brom, and the hammer guy were already sitting inside.
"Dusk," said Brom. "Good, you're here." I noticed that Eragon, Brom, the hammer guy and the weird sword guy didn't even have a single injury between them. At least I had a (very slightly) injured leg and some scratches.
"Where did you go while we were running from the soldiers?" Brom asked.
"Oh, nowhere important," I said sarcastically. "I was just being chased by forty archers and those two flying bat-vulture thingies. But don't worry about me! After all, how could I possibly compare with how much pain you people went through? It was just forty-two bad guys after one me, while sixty-two bad guys were after you three hundred something good guys. Yeah, no problem here, not to mention the fact that I got hit by an arrow, and I got my arms scratched to pieces by that damn bird thing. At least I killed it, though."
Brom started. "You killed a Lethrblaka?" he asked in disbelief.
"The bat-vultures? Yeah," I said, licking one of the scratches on my arm gingerly. "I nearly got the other one too. They need to learn not to go above someone with a Rider metal dagger."
"Where's Saphira?" Eragon asked urgently.
"That dwarf place," I said. "With the Varden."
The hammer guy interrupted us. "Who are you? What is a Lethrblaka? What do you mean, you have a Rider metal dagger? Who is Saphira? You know the Varden and the dwarves?"
"I think you had better start off from when you and Saphira vanished, Dusk," said Brom.
"Before that," I said, "I need food, and I need whatever you people here put on scratches. Then we can just head on over to the Varden and be happy."