Sickness struck Arya after a week of constant marching. The yearn for chant and freedom gnawed at her stomach, and it worsened every time she thought of it.
Eragon walked in front of her, his feet leaving deep gashes into the blanket of snow. He stopped. Arya narrowed her eyes as she tried to glimpse the column of soldiers, but the icy wind forced her to shut them.
What is it? She asked.
They stopped, Eragon said. He unfurled his wings, flapped them several times and turned his serpentine neck to face Arya.
We won't fly, she said. Mud Woman forbid it, and the blizzard agrees with her.
Eragon tucked his wings at his sides and growled his displeasure. He craved to take to the skies as much as Arya wished to flee in the woods. Nasuada made sure that her march would please none but her.
Do they erect cloth mounds?
No, Eragon said.
Something else stopped them, Arya thought to herself. She often kept Eragon in the dark. The less he knew, the better. She did not break her vow this time. She walked to his side and touched his jaw. His warmth comforted her numb fingers.
Eragon, she said as she caressed him. We can't stride through the ranks of two-legs. There may be enemies ahead.
Two legs are prey to me. He roared his defiance for all to hear, including the enemy patrol the Varden probably stumbled upon. Mount me, Arya, and let's hunt.
His breath became ragged with excitement. Arya strafed in front of him and hugged his snout.
Not today, Eragon. He hummed in delight as Arya scratched his cheeks lightly. She could barely encompass his head, now that he reached the size of a stallion. He also had a similar temper. Stay behind, and don't follow.
He stood behind, and did not follow Arya as she dashed through the bald plains. The frozen earth allowed her to run at full speed, and she circled the main body of the army. Some women sifted through supply carts while the men lay down like beaten wretches. Arya frowned in disgust and continued to run until the vanguard outlined in front of her.
They surrounded a caravan made up of six wagons dragged by bulls. Four were closest, while two had yet to catch up. The bull handlers, 6 burly men wrapped in sheep fur, yelled accusations mixed with foul words. Arya heard nothing over the din. She waded through the group of Varden soldiers until a hand grabbed her shoulder.
"Nasuada put you at the back of the army for good reason. Walk no further."
The deep, cultured voice of the man who spoke was the only thing that stopped her from twisting and breaking the insolent hand.
"Stay here. Don't let the men glimpse you. Intervene only if we require aid," Jormundur said. She watched the high commander of the Varden emerge from the ranks of his troops and engage in talk with the gang of animal handlers. After threats were made and promises were taken, they allowed the Varden to check the contents of the wagons.
Arya retreated farther behind as the vanguard rounded the first wagon, an imposing rectangle made of wooden boards attached seamlessly to one another. It looked big enough to house a quarter of the vanguard.
Two apprehensive men shared brief glances as they gripped the iron handles. When they pulled them open, five swords and several arrows greeted them.
"Kill them," the animal handler shouted. "Kill them all."
Empire soldiers streamed from the other wagons as the Vanguard converged on the first one. The side panels of the farthest two wagons flew open to allow a rain of arrows to pierce the backs of the fighting Varden.
Arya found shelter behind the first wagon. She whispered the words necessary to erect a few basic wards around herself as she fought alongside Jormundur's company. The empire soldiers were slow and clumsy to her, but the others did not fare so well. Vanguard bodies lay scattered around the wagon, and the swordsman tripped on them as they charged at them wildly.
"Keep this area," Jormundur shouted. "We'll draw their archers to us."
Arya sidestepped a blow meant for her shoulder and drove her sword through a soldier's neck. Two others lunged at her, but they had more brawn than sense. She ducked under a slash and used the momentum to severe the man's leg. She then pivoted and beheaded the other before he could do the same to her.
They kept the area, but the arrows did not cease whistling. Fewer battle shouts rang across the battlefield as both sides lost men.
"They have us cornered. Haldred, tell me how the others fare."
A young man with curly hair nodded and shuffled to the side of the wagon. Just when he got his head out to peer, an arrow pierced his eye.
"Vapos, your turn," Jormundur whispered. Arya watched as his mouth grew hard and the soldier, a spindly boy no older than Stormonyx, suffered the same fate.
"Moras," Jormundur said. He dared not look the man in his eyes. He approached the other two bodies and stopped.
"Their archers will get me." His eyes darted between his dead companions and the stout commander. He was a coward.
"I'll go," Arya said. She pushed Jormundur's verbal disapproval at the back of her mind as she darted for another wagon. She felled five soldiers on her way to a cluster of moaning Vanguard. Like Jormundur, they gathered behind the wagon and waited for the enemy to overwhelm them.
"There is another group," one of them rasped. He clutched an arrow that pierced his gut. "They will attack the left archer wagon. Get the right one."
Arya tightened her grip around her sword and prepared to bolt for it when a dragon's roar filled the skies. Wood smashed against ground, and cries of pain threatened to muffle Eragon's vicious growls. Ignoring everything she learned about the caravans, Arya relinquished her cover.
Disoriented and fatigued because of the wards she reinforced, Arya stumbled upon bodies, recovered, and pressed on. She spared no glance for Eragon; his pain rang in her ears. Each arrow that collided with her wards sapped her strength, yet she did not stop until the surprised archers drew swords.
They were not meant for her. A few Varden climbed into the wagon and slashed viciously at the distracted archers. Arya did not care. Each archer posed a threat to Eragon.
When she was close enough, Arya drew every ounce of her strength to manipulate the wind. Splinters of wood exploded around her as the wagon rolled across the plains, its occupants screaming their dying breaths.
Told you not to come, she managed to say to Eragon before her knees gave in and darkness engulfed her.