15. Stake a Claim

Finally the representative Herndall answered Varhog, "We will not lightly grant our blessing, Dragon Rider. What you ask is the gravest concession we have ever had to consider. She must not only defeat you, but also two others, in accordance with our customs. When a ram seeks to be worthy of a mate, he must best three opponents, and the same is expected of her. We will choose who faces her after you, if she truly can bring you down. And for this to be, she must prove that she could kill you if she wished. For nothing less will we bestow our consent."

Varhog nodded his understanding. "It will be even as you say."

Then the ancient Urgal dam added, "And you must be fully recovered before you face her. You just defeated nearly a hundred foes. We must know she can overthrow you when you are at your strongest."

"My dragon will replenish my strength," Varhog said as he walked to Black Thunder, striding past Willow without even looking at her, which didn't trouble her in the least in her emotionless mental state. Indeed, it seemed the only logical thing he could do.

"There will be no use of magic and you will fight her as rams fight, in a loin cloth," Garzhvog instructed. Varhog raised his hand as Black Thunder lowered his snout to touch it. They remained still for several minutes, then the dragon raised his head. Varhog was no longer sweating and showed no sign of weariness. He stripped as he had during his and Willow's practice session in the forest, leaving his clothes by his dragon. Then he stalked back to Garzhvog.

"I'm ready," he said.

"Come forward, human," Garzhvog snarled. "Prove your words now or depart and never return again!"

Willow walked forward and let her hair down, already sensing that Varhog was charged by energy and adrenaline. He would be fiercer. He couldn't help it. The rush of triumphing over dozens of foes, one after the other, must have been immense. But his eyes were still blank. He was as deadly as Willow had ever seen him, but she simply added her observations to the growing checklist of stimuli to process and filter, nothing concerning her or causing her to doubt the outcome.

They faced each other in watchful readiness, awaiting Garzhvog's signal. When he gave it, Varhog released a terrifying roar that did nothing to lessen his pent-up energy but seemed only to intensify it. Willow sensed him coil to spring as she had watched him do countless times in the past hour, and it seemed so rehearsed that she almost felt bored as she easily sidestepped the lunge and ducked the trailing arm. She took her time dodging Varhog, not because she couldn't have jumped on his back after any one of his attacks, but simply to give herself time to take in her surroundings. She clearly sensed Garzhvog's angry disbelief, as palpable as it was, though she never looked at him.

Willow felt a heavy certainty that she would face Nar Garzhvog, and with that in mind, she contemplated a way to reach his back. She had always expected that this contest would take place within a forest, but they were in an open, grassy field. She again sidestepped a lunge from Varhog, jumping as he kicked out toward her.

The clearness of the ground would be good for a few reasons—sound footing, no sharp rocks to be bashed against—but at the same time, there was nothing around that provided a stepping stone. An idea came to her mind, and Willow filed it away for when she would need it.

With the information she needed, Willow waited no longer. She returned her full focus to Varhog, backing up so he would be more centrally located between the different groups of people observing their contest—the Riders, the Urgal crowd, and the Herndall. Varhog advanced rapidly, but she retreated at the same pace. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion, like they were partners in a languid dance.

Willow focused on his feet, knees, and thighs, like she always did right before she made her own attack. Varhog tensed with his left leg down, so she knew she would dart away from his right hand, which would be closer to her when he caught himself after his lunge. She waited just a moment longer than in any of her previous dodges. During those times, she had not had her full attention on Varhog, so her subconscious mind had always warned her to move just a moment sooner than needed to ensure that she would remain safe.

This time Willow waited until he thought he would have her—she knew he sensed her nearly imperceptible delay. Varhog put all his strength into his lunge in the very moment he executed it, which was his attempt to keep his intentions from her until it was too late, but Willow had her clues long before. She spun, ducked, and sprang onto his back in movements that were so indistinguishable as to almost be one. A collective gasp went up from their audience, which Willow processed indifferently. Varhog staggered to right himself as he had in the forest, while Willow assumed her stranglehold more tightly than ever before. There would be no doubt she was the victor.

In his moment of false hope that he would finally catch her and also because he must have felt an inflated sense of invincibility after all his triumphs, Willow knew that Varhog carelessly forgot to fill his lungs. His body now reacted more swiftly to the lack of oxygen. He swatted futilely toward her perch, never touching her, and clawed desperately at her arms but found no purchase. He dropped to his knees.

Willow remembered how he had rolled to his back as unconsciousness threatened during their practice round, and she prepared to counter it. Varhog had to fall forward. But he didn't try this time. From his mind, Willow could feel that his muscles were in urgent need of vital nutrients in his adrenaline-heightened state, and they quickly rebelled when denied the fresh blood and oxygen that gave them their power. His hands slammed to the ground.

Willow already had part of her mind trained on his consciousness so she would know the very moment she needed to release him, and she felt some of the agonized burning in his lungs and muscles. He collapsed to his chest.

With the final shuddering of his body Varhog opened his mind to her and weakly said, Fight for me, Willow. I love you. Then the light of his awareness went out, and Willow released her hold by pulling her arms out from under him.

She sprang up and, while placing a foot on his back, challenged, "I have bested your mightiest warrior! Who now dares face me?"

The crowd was profoundly silent. After witnessing Varhog defeat every foe with unchecked impunity, they were obviously stunned that Willow had so easily brought him down.

Yarbog strode forward to stand in front of the Herndall. "I would face this defiler," he boomed. "My brother cannot be allowed to commit such a crime."

"You are her second opponent, Yarbog," the speaker of the ruling council intoned. "Prepare yourself."

Yarbog removed his topmost clothing and turned to face Willow. She remained where she was beside Varhog. Garzhvog signaled the start of their contest, and Yarbog hesitated, evidently expecting Willow to move away from the prone body on the ground. But she didn't.

Willow waited patiently, knowing she could bring Yarbog down as soon as he attacked. His instincts, speed, and strength, while impressive, were nothing next to Varhog's, who had such enhanced abilities as a Dragon Rider. Her strategy depended on staying right where she was.

Willow knew what she needed to do to goad him, so she did it. She smiled mockingly. "Afraid of me, are you?" Then she dared, "Come and get me!"

Yarbog bellowed in rage at her insolence and recklessly trundled forward. Willow neatly dodged him by stepping onto Varhog's back and ducking even lower because of her increased height. He staggered wildly as his feet ran into Varhog's body, which made her mount on his back as easy as if she were climbing onto a table. With his balance already so precarious, the weight of her body on his back drove him down to his hands and knees, and Yarbog fell exactly where she wanted him to over Varhog.

Yarbog gasped just as the wiry strength of her arms closed around his neck, which might have gained him a few added seconds of resistance had he not then immediately growled in frustration at how quickly Willow had assumed her position, exhaling all extra air from his lungs in the process.

Yarbog realized his mistake too late and when next he sucked in to replenish the lost air, he couldn't. He shuddered and rolled his shoulders to dislodge her, but Willow needed to make sure he collapsed right where he was so she threw every ounce of her willpower and determination into her grasp.

Yarbog made choking sounds as he struggled in vain to fill his lungs, and Willow felt his consciousness flicker then extinguish as he collapsed over his brother. She released her hold and stood up on his back, which made her almost as tall as Nar Garzhvog and, indeed, had been her plan all along.

"Let us end this!" she cried. "Select my third opponent and watch me bring him down just as effortlessly."

The Urgals all around were regarding Willow in amazed admiration. What they were witnessing was totally unprecedented.

Nar Garzhvog himself stepped forward to be considered, and the Herndall gave a collective nod of approval. He was their last and best chance of preventing what they still considered the worst possible fate for their esteemed Dragon Rider.

Garzhvog stripped down as the first two had and bellowed threateningly, starting the fight at that moment. He sprinted toward Willow, and she leaped from her perch with a wild yell, already knowing that he anticipated she would use it as the springboard to reach his high back in her only method for ensuring her success. She had to trick him.

Willow circled so he wouldn't catch her, and when he lunged, she dodged, moving far earlier than she would have with Varhog, since she had already calculated the extra length of his arms and body into her reaction. She continued circling, waiting for the perfect moment. He needed to be directly between her and the two unconscious bodies, with his back to them.

When Garzhvog was in the necessary position, and Willow ascertained through her senses that he was completely oblivious to his proximity to the bodies, she actually moved closer to him, which clearly took him by surprise. He paused, puzzling over her advance. She couldn't have him moving away from the bodies at all if her plan was to work. She moved even closer, waiting for the moment she needed.

When Willow stepped yet once more closer, Garzhvog's eyes narrowed suspiciously. If he lunged at all, he would have her, but her steps had been so quick that he was still trying to understand her intentions. She allowed a faint, mocking smile to tug at her lips, remembering how Varhog had told her it would infuriate Garzhvog and make him rash.

Garzhvog tossed his head, snorting in fury, and Willow focused intently on his whole enormous body, absorbing every slight clue that he was preparing to move. When they started to rain on her mental awareness, she dove as his legs spread to lunge—his arms were so far above her, posing no threat—and rolled right under him and between his legs, using her momentum to regain her feet. She jumped from Varhog's legs to Yarbog's back as if they were steps, twisting in the air to leap upon Garzhvog's back. A fierce cry burst from her throat as her hair whipped around and trailed out behind her.

Garzhvog was still in the process of completing his lunge when Willow was on him not three full seconds later, so he didn't lose his balance but instead absorbed the insignificant weight of her body into his knee. But Willow heard his incredulous grunt as her arms suddenly closed around his neck.

So swift was Willow's movement that the crowd barely had time to register her tactic before her arms were wrapped around Garzhvog's powerful neck and she was squeezing with every muscle of her entire body—her legs, back, and shoulders all working in perfect unison to lend her arms their strength.

Willow immediately felt the difference in the Kull warrior's thick neck. Though Varhog's overall strength matched his uncle's, Garzhvog's neck was necessarily stronger to support the extra weight of his massive head and even larger horns. He was weakening, but so much more slowly, and he raged around in the clearing, wildly throwing his body about. Garzhvog already seemed to know that he couldn't reach her, but he also apparently hoped that the sheer brute power of his efforts would dislodge her.

Willow made herself transfer the energy of every jolt into strengthening her hold. After seemingly endless minutes, when her muscles were trembling—though she did her best not to give it away—Garzhvog finally fell to his knees. But Willow knew it was far from over and that she couldn't hold on much longer.

Don't give up, Willow! she screamed at herself. You're so close! This is your last chance to be with Varhog! She desperately reminded herself of his last words to her, Fight for me, Willow. I love you, and knew she had to keep fighting.

A sudden shift in Garzhvog's upper back sparked a memory, which Willow's focused, unaffected brain immediately retrieved and brought to the forefront of her mind. He was about to strike her as Varhog had when he had broken both of her arms during their practice session. Thanks to that experience, Willow instantly knew what she had to do. Sensing the movement of Garzhvog's arm and hand through the rippling muscles on his back and shoulders, she prepared her defense. Right at the last possible moment—when Garzhvog least expected it and had no hope of altering the course of his hand—Willow released her arms straight away from each other, pushing herself back with her hands and knees and landing flat on her back.

Willow knew her evasion had worked when she heard a sickening crunch before she even hit the ground and saw Garzhvog's massive form—still as tall as she was when standing, though he was on his knees—begin a loose slump toward her body.

His huge fist had struck his own neck with the full force of his punch. What Garzhvog no doubt expected to be able to withstand—given that Willow's arms would have taken the brunt of the blow and his neck was so powerful—he actually took in undiluted potency. It was only thanks to the fact that his neck was so strong that he was not immediately killed. As it was, the blow instantly crushed his windpipe and he fell completely slack, while his body began the appalling seizures Varhog's had under the same circumstances.

Willow was completely unharmed, and she rolled to the side in her final escape, springing to her feet in the same movement and sprinting toward Eragon. She could see that he hardly knew what to expect as she charged him, eyes blank and face determined. She wrenched Brisingr from its sheath at his belt, spun, and darted back to Garzhvog, knowing she had less than two minutes before he suffocated.

Willow sprang onto his chest as he convulsed, placing the tip of Brisingr at his mangled throat and jabbing it in enough to draw blood as she screamed, "I have defied and laid low your fiercest warrior, his brother, and your ferocious war chief! Is this enough, or must I lop off his head to demonstrate my might? I have proven my claim to have Varhog as my mate! Concede this point or watch Nar Garzhvog choke to death before your eyes! He will die within seconds if I don't heal him with magic."

Not many within the sound of her voice understood her words, but all understood her defiant tone. One of the Herndall, who understood enough of her words, frantically cried, "You win! Heal him now! You may join with Varhog with our blessing. None is more worthy than you."

Willow dropped at the first words, casting Brisingr to the side. She placed her hands at Garzhvog's mangled throat and anxiously muttered the words of healing. She was able to heal the crushed muscle and tissue more quickly than she had with Varhog, since she had that practice to draw from. Garzhvog writhed in agony, the choking sounds in his chest intensifying until at last the passageway was clear enough to allow air through. He gasped mightily, gulping in great lungsful of air. Willow kept her hands where they were, slowly feeding him energy so his body would recover more rapidly from its deprivation. As she weakened from the demands of the magic, she felt Sunset bolster her strength.

When she was sure Garzhvog would be fine, Willow looked straight into his eyes and softly whispered, "I'm so sorry." Then she stood and walked over to Varhog. She squatted and, with a monumental effort of her entire body—aided by the adrenaline still coursing through her veins—rolled Yarbog off of him. She knelt by Varhog's side, sat back on her heels, and bowed her head over his back to rest the side of her face between crossed arms. She searched for his beating heart and pressed her ear there, remaining thus until she felt him begin to stir.

When Willow finally left the detached mental state she entered into for fighting, tears came to her eyes as the potent emotions that had hovered just outside her awareness for many tense minutes swarmed back into her mind. They spilled out of her eyes onto Varhog's bare skin. She barely noticed the bristles on his back poking her cheek, and her arms were protected by her leather coat.

I did it, she thought to Varhog. You are mine! And your people have given their approval of our union. Willow wasn't sure he could hear her but she didn't care—she was saying it as much for herself as for him.

Since she was no longer in a heightened state of sensitivity and alertness, Willow was scarcely aware of what was going on around her. She felt Sunset's comforting presence and heard the steady beat of Varhog's heart. That was enough.

-:-:-

The other Riders and those who traveled with them stared in silent astonishment at what they had just witnessed Willow accomplish, having never seen such a deadly combination of calculation, precision, and execution. Her plan had been flawless in its devise and implementation. Three massive Urgal rams lay about her on the ground, completely at her mercy. She had brought them down with only the strength of her body and the ingenuity of her mind. Nothing like that had ever before been done. And for what? So she could accomplish yet another impossible feat never before undertaken and marry an Urgal. And now she knelt tenderly by the side of the one she loved, wholly unafraid of showing her affection as she pressed herself against him, despite how strongly everyone had objected to them being together. They realized with reverenced awe just what kind of a person Willow was.

The Urgralgra who witnessed the fight felt similar shock and amazement, though their silence soon evolved into a noisy tribute. The laws of their culture demanded that they now recognize Willow as their war chief, since she had just defeated their own, all but killing him. He would have died had she not saved him. Nar Garzhvog remained where he was on the ground, his humiliation complete, but also to surreptitiously observe Willow. She had demanded his attention in an unparalleled way, just as she had Varhog's after his first defeat.

The roars, bellows, and calls of admiration and allegiance began quietly, but before long the noise was thunderous as the Urgals stomped their feet and beat their chests. The din was soon loud enough that Varhog began to stir. He came back to himself slowly, apparently unaware of the light pressure Willow created on his back.

Willow felt Varhog moving and heard the change in his heartbeat where she was, and she again spoke to his mind. I did it, Yelloweyes. Her tone was weary, not as triumphant as one would expect, for she hadn't invited this trial, only endured it as a necessary obstacle to overcome to be with him. You are mine, I am yours. We need no longer fear the displeasure of your clan.

-:-:-

Varhog pushed himself up, and Willow also raised her body. He assumed a kneeling position right in front of her, making sure their knees touched. She placed her hands on his thighs, and he covered them with his own. He glanced around himself and saw Yarbog within arm's reach and Garzhvog several feet away. Varhog noticed his uncle carefully observing them.

"You defeated Garzhvog," Varhog stated at the evidence clearly before him, his disbelief giving way to deep admiration. "I wish I could have seen that."

"He helped," Willow dismissed with a small smile as tears continued to stream down her face. "You defeated him too."

The other Riders began a cautious approach. Firesword must have heard Varhog's quiet wish, for when he was close enough, he opened his mind to Varhog and replayed the entire fight as he had witnessed it. Varhog kept his eyes on Willow's as the images flashed through his head, muttering, "Slow down," at one point as his eyes narrowed in concentration. He became immobile as a statue and scoffed in deep disbelief—Firesword was showing him her confrontation with and attack of Garzhvog—shaking his head in irrepressible admiration bordering on gloating.

But Varhog couldn't suppress his bitterness as he commented, "You should have left him, not apologized." Then his eyes and face softened as Varhog witnessed Willow's final maneuver, which was to kneel by his side and bow over him.

Varhog was as speechless as the others had been.

Murtagh then said, "I'll show you too," and a second replay began in Varhog's mind from a slightly different angle. A small smile crossed Varhog's face at her taunt of his brother, which Murtagh had also found amusing. When Murtagh was finished, Arya repeated the gesture for Varhog, including Willow as well. Her perspective added even more to the import of Willow's accomplishment as her elven instincts betrayed their shock at Willow's lightning quick reflexes.

Varhog was completely stunned when Arya was done, and he stared at Willow. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. He cleared his throat and tried again. In a strained whisper he stammered, "You were. . . . How. . . ? I . . . " He trailed off.

Willow laughed at his difficulty, clearly relieved it was all over. Apparently not caring at all what anyone else thought, she leaned forward, threw her arms around his neck, and squeezed herself tightly against him, also pulling her legs around his back so she was sitting astride his lap. Varhog reciprocated the embrace by tightly wrapping his arms around her back and shoulders, which forced the air out of her lungs. He buried his face in Willow's hair, slowly rocking her back and forth.

The Urgal crowd went deathly quiet at the open exchange of affection, and the sudden absence of noise was a drastic contrast to the previous ruckus. Nothing could have prepared them to see a human initiate such a gesture toward one of their own. The fighting—as deeply ingrained as it was—had been easy to accept, though Willow's victories were astonishing. But the affection was all but impossible for them to comprehend. No one could deny that Willow loved Varhog or that he loved her. Prejudices that had never before had cause to be challenged were now being openly thwarted.

After a very long while, during which the only movement was Varhog's rocking and stroking and the only sound came from Willow's quiet weeping into his shoulder, one of the Herndall spoke in a reverent whisper.

"What we have witnessed today lays the unyielding foundation on which we will build an entirely new future for our races, one where humans and Urgralgra may yet truly live in peace, or even more, as has been so poignantly demonstrated by this noble couple. Dragon Rider Varhog, we seek your pardon for doubting the worth of this woman and the soundness of your judgment in questioning your choice of a mate. We now see that none could be more worthy of your heart and your loyalty. Thank you for allowing us to see what we were blind to before."

Varhog lifted his head only enough to say, "You have my forgiveness and my appreciation. This woman—our union—will bring no shame to our people. Now you will have the joy of coming to know her as I have." He then pulled back a little more, as did Willow, though he kept his face dangerously close to hers. He gently wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs.

"You are the most amazing woman I have ever known. Thank you—" his voice caught, then he finished, "Thank you for doing that for me."

Willow gazed at him fervently, and Varhog saw in her eyes that this was still not the moment she longed for. Finally she murmured, "You're worth it." Then she abruptly blinked and squeezed her eyes shut. Clenching her jaw and inhaling deeply through flared nostrils, she muttered, "When will the ceremony take place? I can't bear this any longer."

"As soon as you want," Varhog said.

"Now, then." Willow grabbed the bottom curl of his horns in either of her hands and put her mouth next to his ear beyond one open loop. Almost inaudibly, she breathed, "I want you so badly, Yelloweyes. I'm burning for you."

Varhog's whole body tensed. He hadn't expected that at this moment, but then he thought back to how he felt after facing all those foes and understood.

"I need to get dressed," he growled. "Walk with me." He stood as easily as if Willow hadn't been wrapped around him, and she immediately slid her legs to the ground. He grabbed one of her hands, and they swiftly walked to where his clothes were. He kept her slightly in front of his body as a shield between himself and the Urgralgra and hastily dressed.

Then Varhog took her in his arms and held her, muttering, "Would you stay here a moment? I need to relax."

Holding Willow next to him wasn't a very effective method of calming down, but Varhog couldn't think of another way to hide the extent of his arousal, and he didn't want anyone else noticing, especially not his mother.

He let out a sound of exasperated amusement as he rested his face on her head. "Don't say things like that to me, Eartheyes. Not yet. Can't you feel how they affect me?"

"Yes," she whispered. "I can feel that. I'm sorry, Varhog. That would have been a good time not to speak my mind." She held very still, seeming to know that if she mirrored his touch in any way, it would only be harder for him.

Varhog barked a short laugh. "Aye. I always feel it, but when you say you do, it makes me wild." He was quiet for a long while, concentrating on breathing in and out slowly and deeply. To help distract himself, he casually said, "I'm sorry for that awful smell. I'm sure you noticed how sweaty I was after fighting everyone."

"I did, but I'm not going to tell you what I think about the way you smell. It wouldn't help matters right now."

"You don't think I smell disgusting?"

"No, Yelloweyes."

Varhog shook his head in confusion but said no more. At length, he regained control and stepped back, keeping hold of her shoulders. "There. Tonight, Willow. We only need wait until tonight. Then whisper that in my ear and we will do what feels natural, what we both long for." The yearning he had just worked so intently to subdue began clenching his gut again when he recognized how much she wanted to kiss him. But she seemed to see his struggle, so she lowered her face and waited until he released his hold enough for her to move back.

"I will," Willow vowed, staring at the ground

As they walked back to the others, Varhog took her hand once more. Garzhvog had finally sat up, and once Willow and Varhog returned to the group of Riders—who had been quietly conversing in their brief absence—he stood. He cocked his head from side to side to stretch his neck, which appeared to be perfectly recovered. He faced Willow as she stopped by Varhog's side, bashing his fists to his forehead.

Varhog felt Willow jump slightly as Garzhvog said, "Nar Willow, you have my apologies. You have defeated me, the war chief of the Bolvek tribe, in single combat. You are now worthy to bear the title."

Willow laughed at Garzhvog, which surprised him. Varhog smiled—another surprise to Garzhvog—both at the sound of her laugh and his uncle's reaction, seeing something of his initial response to Willow in it. But he was so used to her now that he forgot how unique she was and how unsettling it was for one of his own kind.

"Varhog defeated you first," Willow dismissed. "He should be war chief." Then she giggled. "Can you imagine me as war chief of a clan of Urgals?"

Varhog chuckled. "We all can, Willow. You just took down the three strongest, most skilled warriors in our tribe. Our fighting rams would follow you anywhere."

Garzhvog nodded his solemn agreement. "Varhog forced me into submission, but you killed me, Willow. I would have died had you not saved me. So not only are you my superior but also my savior. I am forever indebted to you."

"Nonsense!" Willow cried. "You owe me nothing! I'm not a killer, Nar Garzhvog. You struck the crippling blow. I just got out of the way in time and wouldn't stand by to watch you die. I didn't fight you to unseat you as war chief, but to prove myself worthy of this ram and to win the approval of your clan. I would not come between him and his people, so it had to be done to avoid even less pleasant consequences. Besides, if I hadn't anticipated that you were about to strike me, you would have won. I was already tiring and with shattered arms, you would have easily escaped and smashed me to bits."

She paused and laughed again. "I decline," she insisted. "You may keep your title, Nar Garzhvog. You are worthy of it."

Garzhvog stared at her in amazement, the faintest trace of amusement playing around the corners of his eyes and mouth at her easy laugh. Varhog once again felt a sense of recognition. This must have been exactly how he looked when he first met Willow.

"You are . . . unusual, Nar Willow," Garzhvog slowly said. "I have never met a human like you, and I'm ashamed that I judged you so hastily. You are more than worthy of Varhog, though I begin to suspect that it might be the other way around and that he should have to prove himself worthy of you."

He glanced at Varhog, who nodded in fervent agreement. "How did you know I was going to strike like that?" Garzhvog curiously asked, looking back at Willow.

Willow shrugged. "I made Varhog practice it with me. He didn't want to, but at my request, he did anyway. It broke my arms and crushed his airway. We obviously healed each other with magic. I felt the same movements in your shoulders and back, which triggered the memory and gave me enough time to prepare. I knew I would never withstand the blow so I evaded it. My one great strength is that I know how to get out of the way."

Garzhvog shook his head in admiration. "I have never seen the likes of it. I won't be so confident of my invincibility again. You have chosen well, nephew," he said to Varhog, "and have brought pride and honor to your clan. When would you enter into your union with this woman?"

"Even now, uncle," Varhog answered. "Feast and celebration or not, we wish it to be today."

"So it shall," Garzhvog replied with a strange look of pain, which Varhog guessed might be the result of thinking about his own mate, who had been killed at Galbatorix's hand. No wonder he hated humans so much and had reacted so strongly to Willow.

Garzhvog finished, "A feast and celebration have already been prepared for your arrival. Now we have even more reason to engage in them."