"… and that is why we need to hasten our pace and strike while our opponent is weakened," said Nasuada with conviction as she quickly rose from her seat. "If we do not take advantage of this opportunity, our forces will be pressed even harder by Galbatorix's spell casters and his pet Rider," she continued, increasing the tone of her voice as she tried to cover the different mumblings added more to the tense atmosphere inside the commanding chamber.
After a few tense moments, in which Nasuada's inquisitive stare checked on every person present at the meeting, a strong middle aged man rose up from his seat, banging his fist into the wooden table.
"That is preposterous! Do you care so little about the Varden as to push everyone capable of fighting to the limit? With our limited rations and the warriors that were injured during the siege we would not be able to cover even half the distance!" he shouted, his eyebrows locked in a deep, menacing frown directed at his superior.
Despite the challenging stance of the angry commander, Nasuada maintained her composure as she put both of her arms on the wooden table casually.
"Your hot temper and accusations will do little to help the Varden, Thorad. If you have something important to say, keep your patience and emotions within the limit of a civilized person," she concluded.
There were different reactions in the small yet cozy room after the dark skinned woman finished what she had to say. Some of the members were looking at her with surprise, while others scowled at the vanity she displayed. The room was completely silent, without even the slightest whisper being heard as no one opened his mouth to speak.
The exception was only a slight creak made by the wood, which protested at the large bulk of the chubby man that dropped comfortably into his chair.
The pressing atmosphere mixed with boiling tempers, sweat and different tactics, each with its own potential, felt like a blanket of iron that covered the whole room. Of all the undamaged residences, Nasuada selected this one because of its proximity to the central square and its sturdy walls. A house that used to accommodate the nobles was turned into the Varden's meeting place by filling the living room with tables and seats. Plenty of light entered through the crystalline windows and landed on the map covered tables, but few were the ones who actually cared about it.
At the opposite end of the table stood Thorad, who was thoughtfully scratching his beard after the recent defeat. Next to him there was one of Orik's general who replaced him. His bulky appearance made him look intimidating, but the kindness he displayed was greatly appreciated by everyone. Arya impassively stared at Nasuada from the other side of the square table, her back straightened against the chair. Such lack of attention would have usually enraged a commander, yet Nasuada was too tired and too absorbed in her vengeful replies to actually care about her.
After she glanced one more time at every person in the room, Nasuada placed one hand on the map and dragged it to a place where the landmarks would be visible to everyone.
"I am aware of the status of our troops, and I know that it would be hard to march again right after a costly victory such as this one, but if we are fast enough, we can capture Belatona before Murtagh and the king's men would have time to fully recover. Such achievement would not only lower the casualties on our side, but it would also lift the morale of our troops and discourage the enemy. A swift, decisive victory; that's all I wish for."
After she finished, Nasuada removed her finger from where the city of Belatona was positioned and sit back in her chair with her arms crossed.
The next reply took her by surprise when a distinctive elf locked her emerald eyes on her,
"We should not let appearances deceive us. We cannot afford to do another mistake. Not after what happened…" Her eyes drifted elsewhere as she fell into the same impassiveness she displayed seconds ago.
Confused and slightly enraged by the ones siding with Thorad and his delays, Nasuada threw her a look of uncertainty, "And what is it you want to say, Arya? Are you perhaps gifted to see into the future, or do you simply suggest that we should wait more time until Eragon could get over the recent events? It has been three days, and we all suffered losses, but this is the reality! We are at war, and these kind of sentimentalisms are what is dragging us down so much!" Nasuada said, increasing the volume of her voice without even noticing it as she expressed her innermost frustrations.
"Speak not of what you do not understand! How dare you mock the ones who have perished to uphold your ideals? How dare treat them so?" Arya retorted before she stormed out of the tent.
Everyone in the room was silent, but words were not needed to express what their angry glares indirectly said as all the eyes were turned to Nasuada. The cold realization of her misguided thoughts reached up with her as an unnatural feeling of apprehension seeped in into her being. Nasuada cast her gaze down; unable to resist the torment of matching the stare of anyone that was present at the meeting. Her heart began to beat frantically and her face and hands became sweaty, knowing about the repercussions her words might have upon her status as a leader. This short, tense moment made her tired mind swarm with the thoughts about what everyone thought about her right now, and doubts soon began prodding at her conscience. Has the war had such a big impact on her that made her ignorant to the people's physical and emotional needs? Was she finally breaking up under the stress her position exerted?
After a few minutes that stretched themselves like they were hours, the tension has reached its breaking point. With a quick move of her hand, Nasuada grabbed the map, almost tearing it up in the process. Her eyes looked frantically over it in trying to come up with something, but it was not to be.
A powerful explosion shook the walls of the small place where the meeting was taking place, the vibrations taking the dust off the ground. Nasuada bolted up on her legs, same as the others which were present in the room. A moment after, the door was blasted open, revealing an armored nighthawk.
"Lady Nasuada, there was a huge force that destroyed the main gate. We could see the splinters flying in the air from here!" said the guard on an alarmed voice.
Nasuada awaited a bit before answering," I will…" she suddenly stopped, but resumed immediately, "just go and check what was it, then give me a proper description of what was the cause of that explosion," she said on a frail, lifeless tone as she sat back in her chair, cupping her head in her hands.
...
Arya felt the frail structure that held her being together crumble under the pillars of uncertainty. Everyone who ever cared for her was gone, taken away by this war. She just stood on the paved road motionless, staring blankly at the damaged city that was undergoing through a change. Was this the answer to her desperation? Was it wrong to mourn the dead, while the war needed support from everyone? But most important, was Nasuada right, and it was she who needed to change?
The pain, the suffering she has experienced since the death of Oromis and his dragon seemed to be a painful reminisce of Faolin's fate. Both of them aided her during times of incertitude, yet there was no one here for her, in this moment. She was alone, lost in a mass of humans who could never hope to understand her. Why would they, when not even her kind searched to soothe her tumultuous feelings?
She took a few unsure steps, allowing her legs to carry her wherever they wanted. But even if she deluded herself with false reassurance that pain would meet an end, it was all in vain. How could one fight a war, when there was nothing to fight for? Even if the Varden would win, a victory would still not bring them back.
After taking a few turns through the crowded city, she reached the central part of the city that was occupied by a mass of tents. Without enough buildings to shelter the Varden, the people have settled their tents wherever they could. Even if Nasuada offered her the possibility to sleep in a more comfortable bed situated in a warm chamber, Arya declined and allowed the servants to install her tent in the middle of the city. It was the only place where she felt secluded from the outside rumble as its green, pleasant color reminded her of the lush forests of Du Weldenvarden.
She slowly pushed away the flap of the tent and crawled inside, where she immediately fell onto her cot like a lifeless boulder. Changing her green leather tunic and dirty dark leather leggings was a nuisance she couldn't possibly bother with. While lying inside the confines of her tent, Arya mind was preoccupied with only one thing: Nasuada's words. As harsh, brutal and unforgiving as she was, her words expressed something that puzzled Arya greatly.
Before she could dwell on her thoughts any longer, the sound of what seemed to be an explosion jolted her from her comfortable position. As strange and unexpected the booming sound was, she didn't feel over inquisitive about it. Her troubled mind could only focus on her problems, ignoring everyone in the process. But even if the much sought peace was the only thing she wanted, Erian, one of Eragon's spell casters, contacted her. " Arya, Nasuada urgently needs your help. It is a matter of great importance," he said hurriedly.
Why would Nasuada dare request her help, when she just insulted the two elves that she treasured the most? Had her cruelty no limits? Her emotional side urged her to ignore the request, like she ignored Oromis in return, but cold logic prevailed in the end. Logic, and… out of a sudden, she could feel the presence of a very powerful spell caster. It was as if this entity appeared out of nowhere, just moments after the explosion.
Without further hesitation, she picked up her blade that rested against her cot and attached it to her hip and stormed out of her tent. "Erian, gather the others and accompany me. This enemy is not an ordinary one," she said briefly before zigzagging through the houses. As she got closer to the gate of Feinster, the wails of pain and terror filled her ears.[i] No matter what minion Galbatorix sent, I will end it as he ended Oromis,[/i] she thought vengefully before she took a sharp turn behind a house and reached on the road leading to the gate.
Arya frowned slightly when the source of all this commotion displayed before her eyes. In the distance, a solid group of Varden soldiers surrounded a single man. From where she stopped, she couldn't quite make out his features, but the bodies of a few soldiers hinted her that this agent of the Empire was a skilled one. Why the battle stopped, she had no idea, but it seemed strange to her that the soldiers were not even flinching. A rustle coming from behind put her on guard, her hand grabbing the pommel of her sword. Her grip lessened when she realized that reinforcements have arrived.
"We gathered as fast as we could," Blodhgarm said as he emerged from a backside alley with the thirteen spell casters assembled. Pleased with their speed, Arya signaled them to move forward, in unison. "We will use the spirit wolf tactic, Blodhgarm. This battle will be over before it even starts," Arya concluded coldly and unsheathed her glimmering blade. The elves stopped dead in their tracks when the soldiers that surrounded the attacker fell to the ground like hay puppets after the unknown enemy performed a swift and deadly whirlwind. For the first time since she was young, Arya felt the blood chilling in her veins. Not because of the power of this enemy, but because all of the soldiers died in complete silence, no scream announcing their demise except for the metal that pierced through their armor.
She could now see who their opponent was: A man dressed in a dark robe seemed to repulse the light around him. A hood concealed his face, but his very presence was enough to instill fear into any experienced soldier. His sinister powers were also unknown to Arya, a great disadvantage on the battlefield. "Let's not leave our guest waiting," she reassured her companions before she charged towards the hooded man with great speed. Her grace and finesse was rivaled by very few people, and because of that, Arya was almost certain that the spirit wolf tactic, a strategy invented by Blodhgarm during trainings, would overwhelm the enemy before he even gets to retaliate. "Stand ready," she instructed the elves before she swung at the defenseless enemy. Her light but almost indestructible sword whooshed through the air at a speed very few could avoid, and for a moment, she thought that this enemy was just a spell caster with no knowledge in sword fight.
With just a flick of his wrist, the stranger unsheathed a green sword and parried her blow, laughing mockingly. For the tactic to work, Arya had to understand his attack patterns, but this man had none. A tingling sensation of fear made itself noticed after she swung at his head and then ducked for a low blow combined with a spinning strike. All of her hits were blocked with a speed she could barely believe; it was the speed of a Dragon Rider of Old. There was only one man who could withstand her attacks… She immediately withdrew from the battle( surprisingly, the enemy allowed her to do it) and contacted Erian through a pant, "Call for Eragon. This is no mere enemy. This is…" fear combined with hatred laced her next word, "Galbatorix." Despite the shocking revelation, all of the elves held their composure. As if by an uncommon accord, the hooded man spoke on a deep voice that emanated power, "Very perceptive of you, Arya. But I am afraid your skills are a little rusty."
In front of her stood the one responsible for the death of Faolin, Oromis, Glaedr and countless others. The tyrant that has ended the prosperous reign of the Dragon Riders and brought terror and despair into Alagaesia was no more than several meters in front of her, ready to bring a new age of strife for the free races. By channeling her fear into hatred for the one that killed everyone who she held dear, Arya smirked, "So, you have finally abandoned your great city so you can meet your end by my blade. When opportunity presents itself, it's only natural that I should take advantage of it."
"You overestimate your power, elf. Instead of shedding more blood upon the grounds of my city, I advise you to bring Nasuada," he said coldly, almost defiantly. Arya tightened the grip on her sword and glanced at the elven spellcasters who nodded back at her. Confident in her combat prowess, she readied her sword, "The only thing I will bring about is your demise, traitor!"
Arya and two elves rushed to meet Galbatorix with steel while the others chanted the necessary spells in the ancient language. The air surrounding the king froze and picked up in speed, creating a circular blizzard that obscured anyone's vision, save for those who were aware of this strategy. "Root him in place," Arya shouted before she ventured into the ice storm with the two elves, ready to meet the confused enemy. From the tough earth below, strong vines protruded and entangled Galbatorix in place, rendering him unable to move. Even if the wards against cold protected her party, Arya still couldn't land a clean blow due to the speed of her enemy. His cunningness with the blade was impressive, but that's exactly what she was awaiting for: distraction. You will not be able to dodge this one thought Arya as she made a quick strike with her sword before leaning her body to the side. The timing was perfect, for in the next moment a blazing fireball passed by her shoulder, splashing itself in a blinding multitude of sparks as it dissipated into the king's wards. The effect made Arya's eyes slit due to the powerful light, but it was much worse for Galbatorix, who was the main target of the attack. Realizing that she could end it all right now, Arya quickly stroke with her sword at the king's legs, then whirled her body around with incredible alacrity. It all seemed a blur through the eye of a common human, and one could say that there is impossible to evade a blow this fast.
CLANG! Arya's blade did not meet the soft flesh, but the king's sword as Galbatorix parried the blow which was supposed to cut him in half. He did it by bending his body skillfully while placing his sword next to his chest.
[i]Curse you, traitor! What would it take to drive you back?[/i] thought Arya as she resumed the flurry of her attacks. Still, all was not lost, for the king needed full focus in order to counter such blow. "Blodhgarm, your turn," she said while swinging at Galbatorix's torso, meeting his green brightsteel sword with her own.
With enough energy provided by the other spell casters, Blodhgarm took the shape of a large wolf capable of moving faster than any elf. His task was to sneak behind the enemy and incapacitate him in order to ensure the success of the others. His attention drawn by Arya and the two elves, Galbatorix failed to notice the wolf that sneaked behind him, ready to sink his teeth into everything he could grab on. "Pathetic, but you had your chance," he said briefly before releasing himself from the gripping roots and planted his sword through the chest of one of the elves fighting alongside Arya. At the same time, he sliced upwards to imbalance the other elf and then stabbed him through the neck, obtaining a faint choke that was lost in whistling wind.
"Thrysta vindr, "the king shouted. All it took were two simple words and Arya felt a huge force collide with her body as she was sent flying through the air, just like Blodhgarm. She released a cough of pain the moment she hit the ground, feeling the air being drawn from her. It was no doubt that Galbatorix was just toying with her, as the power of the spell was pathetic compared to how he froze the eight guards in place at the same time. Still, her wounds were great, and her head was throbbing in pain.
[i]You are skilled in the arts of magic, elves. Perhaps I should play along[/i], the king said in Arya's mind. Even if she was still dizzy and sore from the recent fall, Arya tried to get up, but her legs refused to obey.
"You monster!" she shouted in revulsion at his cruel doings, but Galbatorix did not even turn his head around. He had more important business to attend to. From her position, all she could see was an ice storm enveloping the remaining spell casters. It was bigger, stronger, and in the heart of the vortex, she could notice small icicles. Her heart filled with terror at the horrifying sight, and she could do little to help her fellow companions. After seconds of inner agony, loud screams of pain chilled her being, and then it was silence. After the spell ended, Arya gasped in horror at the sight in front of her: Everyone was pierced with icicles, and thick roots that climbed up to their torso crumbled their limbs and ribs.
Arya's vision flickered as she rolled on her back, watching at the clear blue sky through her half opened eyes. The only thing she wanted was to become oblivious to this pain, to forget what just happened. Would her torment never end? Before darkness engulfed her senses, her lips whispered a single word, "Eragon…"