Chapter Seventy-Five: Battle Cry

Murtagh watched her recede into her tent before strolling back towards the main pavilion. There, he found Kieran still speaking with the lieutenants, and the messenger boy standing in a corner, pale-faced and praying. He met Kieran's gaze, then turned to Bran. "You're coming with me."

"S-sir," he bent his head and stepped shakily after Murtagh. From across the table, Kieran surveyed them leave and turned her head down so no one would see her smile.

Clapping a hand on his shoulder, Murtagh led the boy off into the camp. "Relax. I won't let them murder you, you've done nothing wrong." They walked through the hordes of soldiers as they went. Bran swallowed hard, trying not to trip as he stumbled along. The color still hadn't returned to his face.

"I'm sorry sir, I don't understand," he said quietly.

"You'll be kept as prisoner until this is over."

He swallowed and looked ahead of them at an open pavilion. A few soldiers nearby eyed them before standing and saluting Murtagh. "Hail, Rider."

"This one is to be kept under watch. No one does anything with him without my permission." He pushed on Bran's shoulder and the boy stepped forward. Murtagh watched as they twisted rope around his wrists and ankles, tying him to one of the stakes under the tent. "Let's just hope it doesn't rain so you aren't sitting in mud for days." Bran stared up at him, nearly in tears, mouthing the words, "thank you" as Murtagh turned, heading back to meet with Kieran.

The moment he entered her vision, she brushed into his consciousness. What did you do?

It's nothing.

She's going to be furious with you, defying her orders. Sabotaged her authority.

Galbatorix's authority, not hers. She would have kept him prisoner, not murdered him.

Still might you know. Kieran straightened from her hunch over the table, waving for the lieutenants to leave her and walked to him. "Let's take a turn around camp."

They walked shoulder-to-shoulder through the dust and smoke of camp. Soldiers parted for them wherever they went, though few met their gaze. As always, the bawdy commentary directed toward Kieran rushed through their thoughts. Murtagh watched her and sighed. "You should say something then."

Kieran smiled slightly. "I just want to see one of them try. It's fun to hear them but I know they're all too scared, or should be. If they knew what was good for them, they'd stay far away."

"It offends you," he deadpanned.

She sniffed, "Of course it does. It would offend almost any woman, knowing so many men are lecherous and see you as some sort of trophy. To bed the princess - a story for the ages. And a Rider at that."

"If only they knew you," Murtagh teased, "They wouldn't be so eager."

"No, no one would be." She muttered, folding her arms under her breast as they walked, earning another unsophisticated compliment. "Are we ever going to talk about your trip?"

"I'd rather not."

"I'd rather we did, so you might as well start talking, because we both know I'm going to win." They turned, nearly to the bank of the river now. Kieran's heels were sinking into the mud and she had to mind where she stepped so as to not fall, in turn Murtagh offered his arm, steadying her as she walked. "So, what happened?"

He looked down at her hand resting on his and then back up at her. "Kieran…"

"After all this time, you still won't talk to me. I've known you fifteen years, at least, now please Murtagh, tell me what's bothering you."

Looking over her head, he surveyed the Varden's camp half a mile away. They had built up defenses at the front, trenches and sharpened poles to ward away the imperial forces. "You can say nothing."

"Vel eïnradhin iet ai Shur'tugal." She flicked her gaze up to him and he smiled thinly.

"I saw your sister."

Her face flickered in panic. "Kendra… but…"

"You can tell no one." He said, holding onto her. "She is probably on the other side of that barricade."

Kieran set her face, "Then she's where she wanted to be. Fate has not been kind to me."

"Nor I."

She watched his pained expression and sighed, "I'm sorry Murtagh. I… realize now why you've been avoiding me lately."

"No, I'm sorry. You are not your sister, and we are still friends. I should have tried harder to separate the two of you."

"We are twins. I understand how you feel… I look at my reflection and see my sister every day. It's nothing I can change." She bowed her head slightly. "Are you sure she's fighting for them?"

"I can't see why not, they have mounted a full assault on the Empire, and she would like nothing more than to be at the front of that fight."

Kieran followed his gaze across the empty plains and stared for a long moment at the barricades. She slipped from Murtagh's grasp, her boots splashing in the shoreline of the river. Clenching her hand, the princess turned, walking back towards the hill where their tents were pitched without so much as a second glance at Murtagh or the southern bank of the Jiet.

From Angela's it took them almost a half hour to locate Trianna's tent, which apparently served as the unofficial headquarters of Du Vrangr Gata. They had difficulty finding the tent because few people knew of its existence and even fewer could tell them where it lay because the tent was hidden behind a spur of rock that served to conceal it from the gaze of enemy magicians in Galbatorix's army.

As Eragon and Saphira approached the black tent, the entrance was thrust open and Trianna strode out, her arms bare to the elbow in preparation to use magic. Mark rushed out after her, reaching for her arm, annoyance clear on his face.

Eragon watched as Trianna and the others reacted with the now-expected surprise at his altered appearance. Lowering her arms, Trianna said, "Shadeslayer, Saphira. You should have told us sooner that you were here. We've been preparing to confront and battle what we thought was a mighty foe."

Mark scowled. "Despite my best efforts to convince them otherwise, they were preparing to attack you."

"I didn't mean to upset you," said Eragon, ignoring Mark, "but we had to report to Nasuada and King Orrin immediately after we landed."

"And why have you graced us with your presence now? You never deigned to visit us before, we who are more your brethren than any in the Varden." At the comment Mark's lip pulled into a sneer, biting back his retort as Eragon spoke.

"I have come to take command of Du Vrangr Gata." The assembled spellcasters muttered with surprise at his announcement, and Trianna stiffened. Eragon felt several magicians probe his consciousness in an attempt to divine his true intentions. Instead of guarding himself – which would blind him to impending attacks – Eragon retaliated by jabbing the minds of the would-be invaders hard enough that they retreated behind their own barriers. As he did, Eragon had the satisfaction of seeing two men and a woman flinch and avert their gazes.

"By whose order?" demanded Trianna.

"By Nasuada's."

"Ah," said the sorceress with a triumphant smile, "but Nasuada has no direct authority over us. We help the Varden of our own free will."

"Trianna," Mark said quietly. She whirled around and looked at him. His face was the epitome of calm. "Have you forgotten our arrangement?"

She flushed red and lowered her eyes. "What are your intentions Shadeslayer?"

"Nasuada wants me to lead you, Du Vrangr Gata, in the coming battle, and so I shall." Eragon thought it best not to mention it was his idea.

She pointed at the cluster of spellcasters behind her. "We have devoted our lives to the study of our art. You have been casting spells for less than two years. What makes you more qualified for this task than any of us?"

Mark closed the distance between himself and Trianna, staring down his nose at her. "Did you just insult a Rider, Trianna? Do you realize that he could probably snap you in two with a single word? You may have been studying magic longer than he has, but his strength far outmatches yours. The day he and Saphira met, he was stronger than you without even realizing it. You will never be more powerful than him. Don't pretend to be." His words were just above a whisper. At a distance it may have looked like an intimate conversation, but Eragon saw the anger burning in Mark's eyes.

Trianna avoided his gaze, turning to Eragon. "No matter. Tell me: What is your strategy? How do you plan to employ us?"

Eragon looked between the two of them and continued. "My plan is simple. The lot of you will join minds and search for enemy spellcasters. When you find one, I'll add my strength to yours, and together we can crush the spellcaster's resistance. Then we can slay the troops that previously were protected by his or her wards."

"And what will you be doing the rest of the time?"

"Fighting alongside Saphira."

After an awkward silence, one of the men behind Trianna said, "It's a good plan." He quailed as Trianna cast an angry glare at him.

She slowly faced Eragon again. "Ever since the Twins died, I have led Du Vrangr Gata. Under my guidance, they have provided the means to fund the Varden's war effort, ferreted out the Black Hand – Galbatorix's network of spies that tried to assassinate Nasuada – as well as performing innumerable other services. I do not boast when I say these are no mean accomplishments. And I'm certain I can continue to produce such results… Why, then, does Nasauda want to depose me? How have I displeased her?"

Mark growled, "For you and the others, they are accomplishments, for certain. However, you have still insulted a Rider and questioned Eragon's motives Trianna. On the cusp of a battle that will change the face of the world, you fail to trust he who has done everything in his power to save the people you have spent so much time protecting?"

She pursed her lips, looking over Mark. "And why did Nasuada not ask you? I once asked for you to take the place at the head of Du Vrangr Gata. Your leadership would seem more reasonable than Eragon's – he has been gone for months now, unaware of the situations that we have survived through. You at least know of what has transpired, assisted us in destroying the Black Hand…"

"I do not wish to lead Du Vrangr Gata, but if this continues, I may have to step into such a position."

Everything became clear to Eragon. She has grown accustomed to power and doesn't want to surrender it. But more than that, she thinks that my replacing her is a criticism of her leadership.

You need to resolve this debate, and quickly too, said Saphira. Our time grows short. And Mark looks as though he is about to start in on another argument with Trianna.

Eragon racked his brain for a way to establish his authority in Du Vrangr Gata without further alienating Trianna. At last he said, "I didn't come here to stir up trouble. I came to ask for your help." He spoke to the entire congregation but looked only at the sorceress. "I am strong, yes. Saphira and I could probably defeat any number of Galbatorix's pet magicians. But we cannot protect everyone in the Varden. We cannot be everywhere. And if the Empire's battle-mages join forces against us, then even we will be hard-pressed to survive… We cannot fight this battle alone. You are quite right, Trianna – you have done well with Du Vrangr Gata, and I'm not here to usurp your authority. It's only that – as a magician – I need to work with Du Vrangr Gata, and – as a Rider – I may also need to give you orders, orders that I have to know will be obeyed without question. The chain of command must be established. That said, you will retain the greater part of your autonomy. Most times I'll be too busy to devote my attention to Du Vrangr Gata. Nor do I intend to ignore your counsel, for I'm aware that you have far more experience than I… So I ask again, will you help us, for the good of the Varden?"

Trianna paused, then bowed. "Of course, Shadeslayer – for the good of the Varden. It will be an honor to have you lead Du Vrangr Gata."

"Then let us begin." He paused, looking at Mark. I am capable of instructing them on my own, you may leave.

You are not in charge of me Eragon. He strode past him, his eyes alight with fire. You will realize soon enough exactly how much I do for you. He looked up at Saphira as he passed her, shaking his head and heading off through the mass of tents.

Murtagh walked along the shore, prodding at rocks sinking into the wet sand and sighed. He put a hand on the hilt of his sword and looked up across the water. "Damnit Kendra…" He turned and headed back into camp, watching as soldiers practiced in their spare time. Mariah's message must have been passed through the camp already. It was surprising how quickly news spread amongst the soldiers, but in such tight quarters it made sense that communication was rapid.

Coming up to the main pavilion, he listened to the generals, who had chosen their horse and rider to deliver their message to the resistance. It was Kieran's voice that broke through the chatter and silence everyone. When he stepped through the entryway, she sighed. Murtagh did you come up with an alternate plan when you attempted to save that boy?

No. I didn't realize you were still wanting to make an example of him.

Yes, I fear if we don't let them know we are perfectly serious about destroying their army we are going to be laughed at. They must understand that…

Do you have any other dead soldiers? Because I don't think they'll remember what his face looks like.

I don't think so, we shouldn't have any casualties yet, there hasn't been any fighting so far. I'll ask. Kieran turned to one of her lieutenants and spoke aloud, asking if there were any already dead soldiers.

Harrison shook his head, "No m'lady, we have been fortunate thus far. None have fallen ill or been killed-" With a thud, a bloodied bag was thrown at his feet as he spoke.

"Send your messenger at once; we will fight them at sunrise if they do not abandon this fight." Mariah watched them all. A stray piece of her hair stuck to her face slightly, clinging to the spots of blood on her pale cheek as she turned her head towards a young imperial soldier standing quietly in the corner. "You throw that at the feet of Lady Nasuada… am I understood?"

"Of course General Dawnsinger," he bowed his head to her and retrieved the bag from the feet of the general. He moved from the pavilion to ready his horse.

Waiting for him to leave, Mariah looked around the room, her voice dropped. Kieran shivered as she heard her father's undertone, "I thought my orders were clear, Kieran, Murtagh… do not defy my orders again." She turned and left the tent without another word.

Kieran and Murtagh followed her for a moment, pausing to watch the messenger riding through camp towards the riverbank. The soldier slowly faded into a cloud of smoke from a campfire upon his black steed, like an omen of death itself.

Nearby soldiers were muttering as they watched him go. "Did you see Dawnsinger when she walked through earlier?"

"She didn't look pleased, I'm just glad it wasn't my head she was after."

"That poor bastard begged for mercy and she didn't blink an eye. And the two whelps guarding him…"

"At least it was one clean swipe…"

"Aye, for him."

Kieran turned and looked at Murtagh. His jaw was set and he shook his head. "Galbatorix got what he wanted… you better try and get some sleep tonight Kieran. It's all you're going to get for a few days at least."

Mark routed himself through a section of black tents. Each of them had a paw print sigil painted on the front flap covering the doorway in white. He rolled his shoulder, stretching it as he walked inside the largest of them, meeting Kendra's gaze.

"You're late."

"I had another situation that needed my attention," he insisted. "What have I missed?"

Rowan shook his head, "Not much yet. There just seems to be something going on, I've sent three scouts out to check on the northeastern embankment."

Mark frowned, "More soldiers?"

"I don't think so," Kendra said. "It might be Riders, but I'm not sure yet. And I don't want to assume until the scouts return."

Trevin sat in a corner, making sure the fletching on his arrow was perfect. He glanced up at Kendra and sighed, replacing the arrow in his quiver and picking up another one. "If it is Riders, we're all dead. Your elfling that came today, he doesn't look like a match for Kendra, let alone a Rider."

He shot the archer a look, "I assure you he's more than a match."

"Coulda fooled me, he looks like a woman, high cheekbones, pale like the moon…" he shrugged. "The elf lady Arya looks more intimidating than he does."

Mark smacked his hand on the table, glaring at Trevin. "Do not speak about him like that. He is a Rider, and though his appearance may have changed, and he may look less human than the next person, he is stronger than all of you combined. You would not say such things if you knew the extent of a Rider's abilities."

Kendra spoke, "Yes, we all know, Riders are extremely powerful, which is why we're planning this as carefully as possible. Does our plan still hold, Mark?"

"Yes," he turned his attention to the princess. "You, Arya, and I will guard Eragon. If Kieran, Murtagh, or Mariah appears to fight him, then we will do whatever we can in our power to stop them from destroying him or Saphira."

"Are you going to be able to manage if you are pitted against your sister?"

"Are you going to be able to fight yours… or Murtagh?"

Kendra's face turned sour and as if she wanted to retort, but struggled with a decent reply. Silence hung in the air between them until Trevin whipped an arrow past them both. It landed with a twang in the wooden post holding up the tent.

"Give it up. We all know this isn't going to end well for any of us, and you two trying so hard just makes the rest of us realize how useless we are." He twiddled with another arrow. "Let's face it. There are a handful of powerful pieces on this battlefield. The Riders, Kendra, Arya… Nasuada… Rowan, for what he's worth… Du Vrangr Gata… and you Mark. The rest of us are just going to be corpses if this gets away from any of you."

Mark stared at him, blinking. He realized how right Trevin was. If they were unable to subdue Galbatorix's riders, then the Varden in its entirety was doomed. Surda would fall and the Empire would win. His fingers curled into a fist and he slammed the table, swearing loudly. "Damn you Trevin."

"I'm just letting you know. If you lose we all die. Ah…" he looked up as the scouts returned, half bowing to Rowan.

"Go ahead," he insisted.

"There is a company of a hundred or so Kull approaching from the northeast." The tallest of the spies said to him calmly.

"Kull?"

"Yes m'lord. They are flying a white flag."

Rowan narrowed his eyes, "A peace flag…"

"They are sending a messenger to meet with one of the Varden's soldiers. They appear to want to speak with Nasuada." Rowan glanced up at the others, watching as Mark turned and rushed from the tent, Kendra in his wake.

They met Eragon at the entrance of Nasuada's tent. Kendra glanced over Eragon before following Mark inside, tensing as her guards drew their swords. Mark raised his hand and they lowered their weapons.

"Ah, Eragon, Mark… come here." Nasuada said, waving them into the pavilion.

"What is your bidding?" Eragon asked.

"Our scouts report that a company of some hundred Kull approach from the northeast."

Eragon frowned. He had not expected to encounter Urgals in this battle, since Durza no longer controlled them and so many had been killed in Farthen Dûr. But if they had come, they had come. He felt his bloodlust rise and allowed himself a savage grin as he contemplated destroying Urgals with his new strength. Clapping his hand to Zar'roc's hilt, he said, "It will be a pleasure to eliminate them. Saphira and I can handle it by ourselves, if you want."

Mark glanced at him and blinked, not used to the edge in Eragon's voice. It surprised him and made him worry. "They're flying a white flag." He said simply, looking at Nasuada.

"Yes," she insisted. "They have asked to talk with me."

Eragon gaped at her. "Surely you don't intend to grant them an audience?"

"I will offer them the same courtesies I would to any foe who arrives under the banner of truce."

"They're brutes, though. Monsters! It's folly to allow them in the camp… Nasuada, I have seen the atrocities Urgals commit. They relish pain and suffering and deserve no more mercy than a rabid dog. There is no need for you to waste your time over what is surely a trap. Just give the word and I and every last one of your warriors will be more than willing to kill these foul creatures for you."

"In this," said Jormundur, "I agree with Eragon. If you won't listen to us, Nasuada, at least listen to him."

Mark shook his head, glaring across the table at the man. "You are in the wrong. It would be wise to meet with them. If we chose to fight them without first speaking with them, we invite battle where none may be needed."

First Nasuada said to Eragon in a murmur low enough that no one else could hear, save perhaps Mark. "Your training is indeed unfinished if you are so blinded." Then she raised her voice, and in it Eragon heard the same steely notes of command that her father had possessed. "You all forget that I fought in Farthen Dûr, the same as you, and that I saw the savagery of the Urgals… However, I also saw our own men commit acts just as heinous. I shall not denigrate what we have endured at the Urgals' hands, but neither shall I ignore potential allies when we are so greatly outnumbered by the Emprie."

"My Lady, it's too dangerous for you to meet with a Kull."

"Too dangerous?" Nasuada raised an eyebrow. "While I am protected by Eragon, Saphira, Elva, and all the warriors around me? I think not."

Eragon gritted his teeth with frustration. Say something, Saphira. You can convince her to abandon this harebrained scheme.

No, I won't. Your mind is clouded on the issue, Saphira said.

You can't agree with them! exclaimed Eragon, aghast. You were there in Yazuac with me; you know what the Urgals did to the villagers. And what about when we left Teirm, my capture at Gil'ead, and Farthen Dûr? Every time we've encountered Urgals, they've tried to kill us or worse. They're nothing more than vicious animals.

She blinked, The elves believed the same thing about dragons during Du Fyrn Skulblaka.

Mark stared at him. "You realize Eragon, that we have all lost something to the Urgals. But your anger is blinding you in this matter. We are speaking of a meeting, nothing more. You will not deny Nasuada that. You and I will both be by her side during the entire meeting, if something were to happen, I am certain that we are more than capable of protecting her."

"Thank you Marcus. Guards, the panels, if you would." She seated herself in the high-backed chair. The side panels of the pavilion were pulled up and tied back, opening the entire tent for all to see. Saphira crouched low next to Eragon as he took his place on Nasuada's right. Mark stood on her other side with Elva, Kendra just behind him.

Eragon glanced at the woman, who had not yet spoken or been addressed and touched at her mind. She shot him a glare and he felt her guard against him instantly. Mark caught the exchange and blinked at Eragon. Stop. I will introduce you later.

The other commanders arranged themselves in two parallel rows so that anyone who sought an audience with Nasuada had to walk between them. Less than five minutes later, a great roar of anger erupted from the eastern edge of the camp. The storm of jeers and insults grew louder and louder until a single Kull entered their view, walking toward Nasuada while a mob of the Varden peppered him with taunts. The Urgal – or ram, as Eragon remembered they were called – held his head high and barred his yellow fangs, but did not otherwise react to the abuse directed at him. He was a magnificent specimen, eight and a half feet tall, with strong, proud – if grotesque – features, thick horns that spiraled all the way around, and a fantastic musculature that made it seem he could kill a bear with a single blow. His only clothing was a knotted loincloth, a few plates of crude iron armor held together with scraps of mail, and a curved metal disk nestled between his two horns to protect the top of his head. His long black hair was in a queue.

Eragon felt his lips tighten in a grimace of hate; he had to struggle to keep from drawing Zar'roc and attacking. Yet despite himself, he could not help but admire the Urgal's courage in confronting an entire army of enemies alone and unarmed. To his surprise, he found the Kull's mind strongly shielded.

When the Urgal stropped before the eaves of the pavilion, not daring to come any closer, Nasuada had her guards shout for quiet to settle the crowd. Everyone looked at the Urgal, wondering what he would do next.

The Urgal lifted his bulging arms toward the sky, inhaled a mighty breath, and then opened his maw and bellowed at Nasuada. In an instant, a thicket of swords pointed at the Kull, but he paid them no attention and continued his ululation until his lungs were empty. Then he looked at Nasuada, ignoring the hundreds of people who, it was obvious, longed to kill him, and growled in a thick, guttural accent, "What treachery is this, Lady Nightstalker? I was promised safe passage. Do humans break their word so easily?"

Leaning toward her, one of Nasuada's commanders said, "Let us punish him, Mistress, for his insolence. Once we have taught him the meaning of respect, then you can hear his message, whatever it is."

Eragon longed to remain silent, but he knew his duty to Nasuada and the Varden, so he bent down and said in Nasuada's ear, "Don't take offense. This is how they greet their war chiefs. The proper response is to then butt heads, but I don't think you want to try that."

"Did the elves teach you this?" she murmured, never taking her eyes off the waiting Kull.

"Aye."

"What else did they teach you of the Urgals?"

"A great deal," he admitted reluctantly.

Then Nasuada said to the Kull and also to her men beyond, "The Varden are not liars like Galbatorix and the Empire. Speak your mind; you need fear no danger while we hold council under the conditions of truce."

The Urgal grunted and raised his body chin higher, barring his throat; Eragon recognized it as a gesture of friendship. To lower one's head was a threat in their race, for it meant that an Urgal intended to ram you with his horns. "I am Nar Garzhvog of the Bolvek tribe. I speak for my people." It seemed as if he chewed on each word before spitting it out. "Urgals are hated more than any other race. Elves, dwarves, humans all hunt us, burn us, and rive us from our halls."

"Not without good reason," pointed out Nasuada.

Garzhvog nodded. "Not without reason. Our people love war. Yet how often are we attacked just because you find us as ugly as we find you? We have thrived since the fall of the Riders. Our tribes are now so large, the harsh land we live in can no longer feed us."

"So you made a pact with Galbatorix."

"Aye, Lady Nightstalker. He promised us good land if we killed his enemies. He tricked us, though. His flame-haired shaman, Durza, bent the minds of our war chiefs and forced our tribes to work together, as is not our way. When we learned this is the dwarves' hollow mountain, the Herndall, the dams who rule us, sent my brood mate to Galbatorix to ask why he used us so." Garzhvog shook his ponderous head. "She did not return. Our finest rams died for Galbatorix, then he abandoned us like a broken sword. He is drajl and snake-tongued and a lack-horned betrayer. Lady Nightstalker, we are fewer now, but we will fight with you if you let us."

"What is the price?" asked Nasuada. "Your Herndall must want something in return."

"Blood. Galbatorix's blood." At this Mark felt Kendra stiffen beside him. "And if the Empire falls, we ask that you give us land, land for breeding and growing, land to avoid more battles in the future."

Eragon guessed Nasuada's decision by the set of her face, even before she spoke. So, apparently, did Jörmundur, for he leaned toward her and said in an undertone, "Nasuada, you can't do this. It goes against nature."

"Nature can't help us defeat the Empire. We need allies."

"The men will desert before they'll fight with Urgals."

"That can be worked around." She glanced over at Mark who nodded slightly to her in reassurance. "Eragon, will they keep their word?"

"Only so long as we share a common enemy."

With a sharp nod, Nasuada again lifted her voice: "Very well, Nar Garzhvog. You and your warriors may bivouac along the eastern flank of our army, away from the main body, and we shall discuss the terms of our pact."

"Ahgrat ukmar," growled the Kull, clapping his fists to his brow. "You are a wise Herndall, Lady Nightstalker."

"Why do you call me that?"

"Herndall?"

"No, Nightstalker."

Garzhvog made a ruk-ruk sound in his throat that Eragon interpreted as laughter. "Nightstalker is the name we gave your sire because of how he hunted us in the dark tunnels under the dwarf mountain and because of the color of his hide. As his cub, you are worthy of the same name." With that he turned on his heel and strode out of the camp.

Standing, Nasuada proclaimed, "Anyone who attacks the Urgals shall be punished as if he attacked a fellow human. See that word of this is posted in every company."

No sooner had she finished than Eragon noticed King Orrin approaching at a quick pace, his cape flapping around him. When he was close enough, he cried, "Nasuada! Is it true you met with an Urgal? What do you mean by it, and why wasn't I alerted sooner? I don't-"

He was interrupted as a sentry emerged from the ranks of gray tents, shouting, "A horseman approaches from the Empire!"

In an instant, King Orrin forgot his argument and joined Nasuada as she hurried toward the vanguard of the army, followed by at least a hundred people. Mark rushed ahead of her, eyes flashing in the crowd to keep her guarded, and be the first in the event of a quarrel. Rather than stay among the crowd, Eragon pulled himself onto Saphira and let her carry him to their destination.

When Saphira halted at the ramparts, trenches, and rows of sharpened poles that protected the Varden's leading edge, Eragon saw a lone soldier riding at a furious clip across the black no-man's-land. Above him, the birds of prey swooped low to discover if the first course of their feast had arrived.

The soldier reined in his black stallion some thirty yards from the breastwork, keeping as much distance as possible between him and the Varden. He shouted, "By refusing King Galbatorix's generous terms of surrender, you choose death as your fate. No more shall we negotiate. The hand of friendship has turned into the fist of war! If any of you still hold regard for your rightful sovereign, the all-knowing, all-powerful King Galbatorix, then flee! None may stand before us once we set forth to cleanse Alagaësia of every miscreant, traitor, and subversive. And though it pains our lord – for he knows that most of these rebellious acts are instigated by bitter and misguided leaders – we shall gently chastise the unlawful territory known as Surda and return it to the benevolent rule of King Galbatorix, he who sacrifices himself day and night for the good of his people. So flee, I say, or suffer the doom of your herald."

With that the soldier untied a canvas sack and flourished a severed head. He threw it into the air and watched it fall among the Varden, then turned his stallion, dug in his spurs, and galloped back toward the dark mass of Galbatorix's army.

"Shall I kill him?" asked Eragon. Mark glanced down the row at Trevin gripping his bow tightly; Kendra's hand was firmly placed on his forearm, knowing he could still reach the messenger from this distance.

Nasuada shook her head. "We will have our due soon enough. I won't violate the sanctity of envoys, even if the Empire has."

"As you-" He yelped with surprise and clutched Saphira's neck to keep from falling as she reared above the ramparts, planting her front legs upon the chartreuse bank. Opening her jaws, Saphira uttered a long, deep roar, much like Garzhvog had done, only this roar was a defiant challenge to their enemies, a warning of the wrath they had roused, and a clarion call to all who hated Galbatorix.

The sound of her trumpeting voice frightened the stallion so badly, he jinked to the right, slipped on the heated ground , and fell on his side. The soldier was thrown free of the horse and landed in a gout of fire that erupted at that very instant. He uttered a single cry so horrible, it made Eragon's scalp prickle, then was silent and still forevermore.

The Varden cheered Saphira's accomplishment. Even Nasuada allowed herself a small smile. Looking down the line, Mark met Kendra's gaze, pained at the clamor around them. Trevin, with Rowan, vanished in the crowd. He watched Kendra's indignant expression before she turned and followed them. Behind him, Nasuada clapped her hands and said, "They will attack at dawn, I think. Eragon, gather Du Vrangr Gata and prepare yourself for action. I will have orders for you within the hour." Taking Orrin by the shoulder, she guided him back toward the center of the compound, saying, "Sire, there are decisions we must make. I have a certain plan, but it will require…"

Let them come, said Saphira. The tip of her tail twitched like that of a cat stalking a rabbit. They will all burn.

They received your message I see. Andrar said, raising his head at Saphira's battle-cry. He remained silent as to not give away their position, or give reason for their opposition to believe there were dragons on the empire's side. Mariah glanced up from beside him and heard the longing in his tone. Saphira's presence meant that Eragon was with her on the opposing side.

Mariah watched Kieran and Murtagh approaching. The princess smiled at her a little, though she looked tired as she approached. "It seems as though your warning wasn't received how you'd hoped. It seems to have encouraged them rather than scare them off."

"Clearly," she said, "though perhaps that isn't a bad thing."

"Perhaps," Kieran agreed, watching Murtagh stride past them both to his tent.

Mariah watched him pass before looking back to Kieran, "I don't know what came over me."

"The king," she insisted, noting her eyes were green once more. "The power he holds over you is strong, even at this distance… Murtagh is less than pleased."

"I know," Mariah admitted shamefully, lowering her head.

Kieran set a hand on her shoulder, "This will all be over soon. The Empire will succeed and my father will have what he wants. And everything will once again be as it should." Her fingers tightened on Mariah's shoulder for a moment. "We should get you back in your armor to sleep in… it would be best I think, in case they decide to take advantage of the night."

Nodding, she followed Kieran into her quarters and let her help with the golden armor once again. It was cumbersome, but Mariah doubted she would be getting much more sleep than normal anyway. "Thank you. I'm going to make sure Andrar is ready as well."

"An excellent plan, I will see to Nasreen as well." Kieran followed her down to the dragons where they were curled up at the base of the campsite. All three hummed at their approach and greeted them warmly.

Thorn brought his tail around Mariah's back and carefully pulled her to him. Little one, I admire your heart, you have tried very hard… all of us can see, even if we don't always let you know. His humming rose in tone when she brushed her hand across his face, hugging him tight.

Thank you Thorn. Please let him know I mean well.

It is known. He assured her, blinking his large ruby eye once. Tend to your own…

She smiled thinly and turned to Andrar who snorted at her once. I do hope a dragon's assurance is all you need to settle your nerves, because I have not much more to offer.

It is. Whatever the morning brings, I am ready… whether or not I am prepared however is another story. I wish to see this through now. Are you prepared?

As you said, I am ready. My claws are sharp, my armor is thick, the Varden will not be able to destroy me so easily. Should it arise we are to fight those we set out to save, I will be ready to combat whatever may be.

Mariah secured the last buckle in his armor and nodded, I'm going to take another turn around camp before tomorrow morning, make sure everything is prepared.

You won't face much resistance anymore I believe, after today…

She cringed a little and nodded once, walking down the hill back into the camp, Ancalë bouncing against her thigh.

Yes, there is a lot of battle preparation to get through. I do hope the suspense isn't killing you too badly.

With Love, As Always,

Mariah Dawnsinger