Roran Stronghammer exhaled slowly, steadying himself as he tightened his grip on his wand hammer which has yet to be named. His heart pounded like a drum in his chest, but his hands did not shake. He had faced soldiers before, defended the villagers of Carvahall, but never had he stood at the head of an army, preparing for an all-out battle. This was different.
Nasuada had wanted to put him amongst the lowest ranks so that he may prove himself, but upon hearing he was now a wizard – although a beginner – he was placed under his cousin. Though, not after Nasuada had wanted to send him to study under the Varden's magicians. Eragon had to explain that the magic Roran wielded, was very different.
He looked behind. The Varden's camp was a flurry of activity. Men checked their weapons, strapped on armour, and exchanged tense glances. Roran knew that they were acting brave.
Everyone was shit scared.
Roran shifted in anticipation by the front ranks where he was positioned with his men. They were next to Orik and his contingent. The dwarves had formed an impenetrable wall with their shields in their left hands and axes or swords in their right. Their height and sturdiness provided the necessary strength for holding the line.
Roran looked behind him. Every so often he would notice a one or two archers behind a water barrel. Harry and said that if they had water to drink while battling then they wouldn't tire out as quickly. This plan was in conjunction with the rotating forces that they had decided upon the evening prior. Their orders were clear… rain hell on anyone who threatened their water barrels.
Last night, Roran with the group, had walked around the camp for two hours casting what they called Notice-me-not Charms on every weapon they could see, every tent, every water barrel and every fireplace but Daphne said she had modified it so that only the only would be able to find it.
Roran looked up to see the blue and gold dragons circling their army gracefully. He made out Daphne between the ridges on Aëlindra's back. Saphira circled higher than Aëlindra, her deep blue scales gleaming as she and Eragon watched the enemy's approach. Eragon and his elven senses would definitely aid them in this battle.
Somewhere in the middle of the Varden's forces, Roran spotted Harry and Astoria standing with the rest of the spellcasters. Their plan was simple, when the fight began, Daphne would do some type of spell that would make her invisible so that she could fly and cast spells while in the air. However, Harry and Astoria, together with the Varden's spellcasters, would cast spells that would help them win, but Roran did not have the specifics. He knew, he had much to learn.
For now, he will rely on his strength. Although, an occasional Depulso here and there would not go amiss. Astoria had taught him just three hours ago. He did take a full thirty minutes to be able to cast it properly, but he was confident he could pull it off each time.
Like Harry had told him, a wise man called a Mr Miyagi from his world said, 'Just Remember True Strength Come From Inside'.
-oIo-
Harry and Astoria were getting antsy. Harry hated being away from Daphne and Aëlindra. But they had a strategy and one which he intended to fulfil perfectly.
Harry glanced at her. "You ready for this?"
Astoria swallowed but lifted her chin. "Not even slightly."
Harry smirked. "Good. Me neither."
Aëlindra roared from above and then vanished from sight causing an audible gasp from the Varden's crowd.
The enemy was coming.
Saphira and Eragon descended to the front of the Varden where they met Jörmundur. After a what looked like brief nod, Saphira stood next to the general and Eragon unsheathed Zar'roc. Harry wanted a sword like that too!
Suddenly, fire emerged from the sky, seemingly out of nowhere. Every head turned to gawk at it.
The fire took the shape of dragons and then suddenly disappeared.
Harry frowned.
The Empire's forces were on the hill like a black tide. There seemed to be about fifty thousand of them and Harry knew that their odds were meagre at best. But what was Daphne playing at? Surely that kind of fire was dark magic.
-oIo-
Roran's breath quickened, but he forced himself to remain calm. He raised his hammer high and turned to his men. "Hold the line!" he bellowed. "No matter what comes, we hold!" He did not know if that fire dragon was Daphne or the Empire but damn, it was scary as well. It even halted the empire's procession for a few seconds.
A horn blared, and the Empire charged.
The ground vibrated as the cavalry thundered forward, lances gleaming in the sunlight. The Varden archers loosed their first volley of arrows, and dozens upon dozens of enemy soldiers fell, arrows piercing their armour. A second volley followed, but still the cavalry came.
Then, just as the first horses neared the dwarven shield wall, a golden blur streaked from the sky.
Aëlindra.
Roran raised his wand hammer and screamed, "CHARGE!"
At his command, a surprised Eragon and Jörmundur also followed suit allowing their soldiers to go forward.
Saphira roared and took off towards the Empire, then as she dove, fire spewed from her jaws. The front line of the cavalry shattered as men and beasts alike screamed in terror, consumed by flames. Unbeknownst to them, a certain golden dragon had vanished from site again. Those who survived Saphira's first attack, barely had time to recover before Saphira struck from the opposite side, her talons raking through armour like paper.
Still, the enemy kept coming.
The first wave of soldiers slammed into the Varden's front lines. Swords clashed against shields; screams filled the air. Roran met the charge head-on, swinging his hammer with brutal precision. His first strike caved in a soldier's chest. He didn't stop to think, he just moved, dodging a spear thrust, bringing his weapon down on another man's squishy skull. He felt nauseous.
A large man in the Empire's garb now towered him. At least two heads taller than Roran. Roran looked up at the menace and raised his shield just in time to deflect a blow from what he recognised as a Morningstar. His shoulder popped out.
Fuck.
He raised his wand hammer in defence while stepping back with a grimace.
'Wait for it.' He thought.
The huge empire soldier swung his Morningstar with a backhand and Roran whispered.
"Depulso!"
The spell caught the spiky ball and launched it with inhuman strength through the face of the soldier who promptly fell. Headless.
-oIo-
Harry, stationed further back, watched as the spellcasters around him unleashed their magic. Walls of fire erupted, lightning crackled across the battlefield. But the enemy had magicians of their own. A counterspell sent a shockwave through the air, knocking several of the Varden's spellcasters to the ground.
Astoria reacted instantly, raising her wand. "Protego Maxima!" A shimmering blue dome formed just in time to absorb another magical blast, protecting the wounded mages. She staggered, panting.
Harry grabbed her arm. "You alright?"
She nodded, breathless. "Keep fighting."
Above them, Daphne focused her magic. She pointed her wand downward, and the air rippled as she sent a concussive wave crashing into the enemy ranks, sending men flying like ragdolls.
Eragon, seeing an opening, guided Saphira into a dive. They hit the ground hard, and Eragon leapt from her back, slashing through enemy soldiers with His hand and a half sword. His elven speed made him nearly untouchable.
The battle raged on.
Roran fought like a man possessed, hammering through enemy ranks. Blood stained his armor, but he barely felt it. He had one job and that was to keep his men alive.
Harry, realizing the enemy mages were their biggest threat, broke away from the spellcasters and charged forward, wand in hand. He raised it toward a group of enemy sorcerers.
"Expulso!"
The ground beneath them exploded, sending them flying.
"Stupefy!"
A red beam struck another mage, dropping him instantly.
He barely had time to react before another sorcerer turned on him. A jet of black energy shot toward him, but before it could hit him Aëlindra landed between them, shielding Harry with her massive wings.
The sorcerer's eyes widened in horror.
Daphne, still mounted on Aëlindra, raised her wand. "Incendio!"
A stream of fire engulfed the enemy mage, ending the threat.
Harry looked up at Daphne, breathing hard. "I had that."
She grimaced. "Sure, you did." Before vanishing again.
Something is wrong.
Aëlindra silently agreed.
-oIo-
The battlefield was chaos. Smoke, blood, and fire painted the land in shades of destruction. The Empire's numbers seemed endless.
But, the Varden did not have any casualties…
Then, the war horns of the Empire sounded again.
From the distance, another wave of soldiers appeared, reinforcements.
Harry and Astoria with their spellcasters had now moved forward and reached Roran.
Roran, panting and covered in blood, saw them first. His heart sank. "There's too many."
"No." Harry muttered.
"What do you mean? How many did we lose?" Roran leaned on his splintered shield in exhaustion.
"We lost seven humans and three dwarves but over fifty horses. How stupid could we have been not to cast protection charms on the horses!" Astoria snapped, more so at herself in frustration.
Daphne, still in the air, heard their thoughts through the bond. She turned to Aëlindra. 'We need to even the odds.'
Aëlindra roared in agreement.
From above, Eragon and Saphira saw the problem as well.
"We have to break their morale," Eragon called.
Harry wiped sweat from his brow. 'We need something big.'
Daphne's eyes darkened. 'Then let's give them something big.'
While disillusioning herself, she raised her wand toward the sky. Her lips moved quickly, ancient Latin words spilling from them. The clouds above began to churn. Lightning snapped, crackled and popped; the winds howled. Then, with a final gesture -
A massive bolt of fire arced from the sky, striking the Empire's reinforcements head-on. The explosion was deafening. Soldiers screamed as the force sent them flying, their ranks thrown into disarray.
But the fire seemed alive.
'Harry. I am using Fiendfyre. Keep the Varden away from the rear of the Empire's battalions, I will try to ensure it stays within my control. '
Harry relayed the message to Trianna who notified Nasuada, and new orders were given.
The Varden saw their chance.
Roran raised his hammer. "CHARGE!"
The Varden surged forward with renewed strength, cutting through the now-scattered enemy lines.
Eragon, atop Saphira, drove into their ranks with fire and steel.
Harry, now fighting beside Roran, sent out blasts of magic, clearing a path through the enemy.
"Diffindo! Impedimenta! Incarcerous! Stupefy!"
Daphne, from above, directed Aëlindra towards the rear of the army while directing the dark flames at the segments that did not yet meet the Varden.
Hundreds died instantly.
And slowly, the tide began to turn.
For the first time, victory seemed possible.
-oIo-
The tide of battle had shifted, the Varden pressing their advantage against the disorganized ranks of the Empire. But even as the enemy faltered, a new presence made itself known.
A deep, resounding roar split the sky, a sound so powerful it seemed to shake the air itself. From the northern horizon, a massive red shape streaked toward the battlefield like a comet of blood and flame.
A red dragon.
Saphira pulled up sharply, banking in midair as she turned to face the new threat. Aëlindra, still circling unseen with Daphne on her back, also veered away from the battlefield. But the golden dragon's bond with Harry flared with warning.
'Harry… something is coming.'
Eragon, in the midst of slicing down an Imperial soldier, felt a wave of dread crash over him. His heart clenched.
And then he heard it.
A voice, strong and familiar, laced with bitterness and pain. Booming across the blood-soaked expanse.
"Hello, Brother."
Eragon turned, his blood running cold as he saw him.
Murtagh.
No. He died.
The older teen sat atop a red dragon (clearly a male dragon judging from Saphira and Aëlindra's appearances) his silver armour gleaming in the morning light. His red cape billowed behind him, his expression unreadable. But his eyes… his eyes burned with something fierce.
Eragon did see him as a brother. But now he had joined the mad King. He had to surrender. He had to make him join the Varden. Or at the very worst… die.
Regret. Duty. Pain.
"You will join me brother!"
The time for words had passed.
The big, red dragon roared, folding his wings as he dove toward the battlefield. Eragon barely had time to react before Murtagh and his dragon crashed into the ground before him, sending dirt and bodies flying. The shockwave knocked soldiers off their feet, including several Varden warriors who had been pressing their attack.
The red dragon's massive claws tore into the earth, leaving deep trenches as he steadied himself. His tail lashed, knocking aside both Empire and Varden alike.
Eragon's grip on His hand and a half sword tightened.
"Murtagh," he called, stepping forward. "You don't have to do this."
Murtagh dismounted, his movements slow, controlled. He rolled his shoulders, stretching as if he were preparing for a spar rather than a duel to the death.
"You think I have a choice?" Murtagh said. His voice was calm, but Eragon could hear the tension beneath it. "I am bound, Eragon. Sworn to serve Galbatorix." He lifted his chin. "But you… you've always been too naïve to understand that."
Eragon clenched his jaw. "Then fight it! You–"
Murtagh lunged.
Their swords met with a clash of steel, the force of their first blow sending a sharp ring across the battlefield. Murtagh's hand and a half sword clashed against the crimson blade of Zar'roc.
Murtagh was faster than before. Stronger.
Eragon barely managed to sidestep his next attack, pivoting to slash at his once friends' side, but Murtagh twisted, blocking with an ease that sent a chill down Eragon's spine.
He wasn't just stronger.
He was better.
Murtagh's dragon launched himself at Saphira, and the two dragons crashed together in a whirlwind of teeth, claws, and fire. Their roars drowned out the battle cries below.
Murtagh pressed the attack, forcing Eragon onto the defensive. Every strike of Zar'roc heavier than the last. Eragon gritted his teeth, pushing back with all the strength and skill he had learned, but Murtagh countered everything effortlessly.
Then, in a single brutal movement, Murtagh feinted, letting Eragon overextend himself.
A sharp pain shot through Eragon's side as the flat of Murtagh's sword slammed into his ribs, sending him stumbling.
Before he could recover, Murtagh followed through, kicking Eragon square in the chest.
The world spun.
Eragon crashed to the ground, Zar'roc slipping from his grasp.
And before he could react, Murtagh's boot came down on his wrist.
Pain shot up Eragon's arm as Murtagh twisted his foot, pinning him down. He could barely hear Saphira's desperate cry over the chaos where his dragon had managed to subdue her.
Murtagh reached down, his expression impassive as he gripped Zar'roc's hilt.
"It's over, Brother."
With a sharp tug, he ripped the sword from Eragon's grasp.
"It's not too late Murtagh. We can help you." Eragon panted in extreme pain.
"Zar'roc should have gone to Morzan's oldest. Not his youngest." Murtagh smirked.
Eragon laughed loudly like a lunatic and Murtagh frowned suspiciously at his brother.
"You bloody imbecile. We are half-brothers. Brom was my father!" Eragon shouted back at Murtagh.
"AAAAH!" Murtagh kicked Eragon's face with all his strength and Eragon was still.
Saphira let loose the loudest and most painful roar such that everyone had to cover their ears.
-oIo-
High above the battlefield, Aëlindra's invisibility faltered. The golden dragon flickered back into view as she banked hard, retreating toward Harry's position.
Daphne trembled in the saddle, her fingers slack around her wand. The weight of what she had done pressed on her like a crushing force.
Hundreds dead.
By her hand.
She had wielded Fiendfyre, one of the darkest and most uncontrollable magics known to wizardkind.
And she had done it without hesitation.
Now, the battlefield below was littered with scorched corpses. The acrid scent of burned flesh filled her nose, sickening her.
She wretched.
Aëlindra rumbled in concern, but Daphne barely heard her.
She had killed. Not just soldiers, but men. People.
Her body shook violently, and before she could stop herself, she leaned over the side of Aëlindra's saddle and vomited.
'Harry…' she gasped through their bond. 'I… I can't…'
Her vision blurred.
Aëlindra dove toward the Varden's ranks, toward safety. Toward Harry.
Harry saw Aëlindra coming before he felt Daphne's panic in his mind.
He sprinted toward them as the golden dragon landed, barely waiting for Daphne to dismount before he caught her.
She was shaking. Pale.
"I killed them, Harry," she whispered, gripping his robes. "I killed so many."
Harry didn't hesitate. He wrapped his arms around her, his magic instinctively pouring into her, calming her frayed nerves.
"I know," he said softly. "I know. It's okay, I love you."
She buried her face in his chest, but there was no time to comfort her further.
Because just beyond them, Murtagh stood over a fallen Eragon, with a red sword now in his grasp.
Harry's jaw clenched.
Aëlindra snarled beside him, her scales bristling with rage.
Harry gently pushed Daphne toward Astoria. "Stay here."
Then, without another word, he jumped on Aëlindra.
'Partner of our hearts. Let's go get Eragon.' He told her.
'Let us kick their asses!' Aëlindra took off and in one single leap, crossed a hundred meters to where Eragon was. The red dragon bristled and let go of Saphira as Harry and Aëlindra approached. When they landed, Harry hopped off and Aëlindra backtracked slightly. Harry walked forward in anger. Since the transformation, Daphne told him that his magical core had increased. She taught him how to bring it forward and it rolled off of him in waves, much like that DragonBall cartoon that Dudley used to watch.
Murtagh stared at Harry, raising an eyebrow. "And who might you be?"
Harry didn't answer. He simply raised his wand.
Murtagh smirked. "You think you can defeat me with that stick?" Zar'roc pointed at Harry. "I think you will find yourself sorely mistaken."
Harry's expression was cold. "Try me."
Murtagh attacked first, swinging Zar'roc in a brutal arc, but Harry wasn't Eragon.
He didn't fight with steel.
He fought with magic.
With a flick of his wrist…
"Serpensortia multis!" A shower of snakes exploded from his wand. He kept his Poplar wand hidden as a backup while his holly and phoenix did the work.
"What are the snakes going to do?" Murtagh taunted hesitantly, "unless you can order them about."
Harry smiled.
"Destroy him." Harry said but all Murtagh heard was a strange hissing sound.
At once, all the snakes started attacking Murtagh's armour and his expression changed to one of annoyance.
"Deyja!"
All the snakes died immediately.
Murtagh raised Zar'roc and leapt forward with a downward strike.
"Protego!"
A shimmering barrier formed instantly, blocking the strike.
Murtagh recoiled slightly, surprised, but recovered quickly. He swung again.
"Expelliarmus!"
The red Rider barely managed to hold onto his sword as the force of the spell hit his wards and sent him staggering.
Harry made a mental note that the disarming spell didn't go through wards.
Murtagh's eyes darkened. "Fine. Magic it is." He lifted his free hand.
"As you wish." Harry responded in contempt. Angry that his best friend was down. He shot a quick glance at Eragon who was still unconscious.
"Brisingr!" Murtagh shouted.
A jet of fire shot toward Harry, but he countered it effortlessly.
"Aguamenti Maxima!"
A torrent of water exploded from his wand, dousing the flames instantly.
Murtagh's jaw tightened. "What magic is this?"
Harry's grip on his wand didn't waver. "You haven't seen anything yet."
The red dragon roared from above, trying to rush toward his Rider, but Aëlindra intercepted him. The golden dragon slammed into him mid-flight, sending them both tumbling.
Murtagh turned, distracted for a split second -
Harry didn't waste the opening.
"Stupefy!"
The red bolt struck Murtagh square in the chest.
He collapsed.
Harry moved forward, holding his wand aloft.
"Yield."
Murtagh groaned, then after a long moment.
He closed his eyes.
And let his head drop.
This fight was over, but the battle ensued.
-oIo-
Astoria healed Roran as best as she could but there were still a lot of bruises. Luckily, there weren't any life-threatening injuries. Merlin forbids if anything happened to him.
Other soldiers with injuries were brought to her. Not very many. But still.
"Daph!" she screamed as a man who had both his legs crushed was wailing in agony. The soldiers who brought him carefully placed him next to Roran. "Daph, please come here, I need your help. I really need it."
Daphne, who was sitting a few meters away on the dirt lifted her head. Astoria knew her sister needed to deal with what she had done but now was not the time.
"Daphne. Please." Astoria begged as she conjured rags to place around the man's legs.
Daphne got up and morbidly shuffled over to the soldier.
"What is your name?" She asked with no real indication of sympathy.
"Hmph!" He growled in pain.
"Okay then." She pointed her wand at his left leg. "Brackium emendo!"
The soldier almost screamed his lungs out of his body and fell flat shuddering and then screamed again with even more intensity as Daphne performed the spell on his right leg.
His eyes shot open.
"What?" He sat up and began feeling his legs, "I am healed!"
He stood up and immediately fell down with a thud. Astoria rushed to him and helped him get up again.
"Please, the spell used a lot of your energy to heal you. You need to eat. Then drink loads of fluids and sleep." Daphne instructed with an emotionless expression on her face.
The man nodded vigorously and beckoned to Astoria to let go.
"Thank you." He said and gave a wobbly bow to before hobbling off with his eyes on the floor.
"Daphne Greengrass. Explain." Astoria ordered.
"Explain what?" Daphne sneered, clearly unwilling to talk about what happened.
"You used Dark Magic."
"So? I did what I had to. There were too many." Daphne's sneer fell and morphed into tears. "I killed so many…". Astoria rushed towards her and grabbed her tightly.
"I got you sis." Astoria promised. "But please help me, there are still more injured soldiers."
Daphne nodded with her head still in Astoria's embrace.
-oIo-
Harry's breathing was heavier than Sirius' panting, his pulse still hammering from the duel. He kept his wand trained on Murtagh's motionless form as he took a cautious step forward, eyes darting to Murtagh's dragon. The red dragon stood tense, his massive chest rising and falling, nostrils flaring. His tail lashed once, but he did not move forward.
Saphira, panting from her own struggle, landed heavily beside Eragon, who still lay unconscious. Aëlindra circled above before landing with feline grace next to Harry, keeping her piercing green eyes locked on the other dragon.
Harry crouched beside Eragon's limp form. He looked paler than usual, bruises already forming on his exposed skin. Murtagh had beaten him soundly. Harry barely hesitated before pressing his wand to Eragon's temple.
"Ennervate."
A soft golden light flared, and Eragon gasped awake, eyes snapping open as he bolted upright, his hand instinctively reaching for a sword that was no longer there. He stilled when he saw Harry kneeling beside him, then his eyes flickered to Murtagh's unconscious body.
"You got roughed up proper." Harry teased.
Eragon's gaze darkened. "You won."
Harry gave a single nod. "Let me bind him first, we can talk about it later."
Eragon hesitated, looking as if he wanted to protest, but then exhaled sharply and gave a quick nod.
Harry rose to his feet and pointed his wand at Murtagh's prone form.
"Incarcerous."
Thick ropes burst from the tip of his wand, twisting and tightening around Murtagh's limbs with practiced efficiency. The bindings glowed faintly, reinforced with magic, ensuring he wouldn't break free easily. Harry then levitated Murtagh.
The red dragon took a step forward, his golden eyes locked onto Murtagh's still form. His talons flexed, scraping the bloodied earth. His wings twitched, but he made no move to attack.
Harry met his gaze. "If you fight, I will not hesitate to stop you."
A tense silence hung between them.
Then, to Harry's surprise, the dragon lowered his head. Harry felt a foreign presence attempt to invade his mind, though not maliciously. He allowed it through.
'Do not harm him,' a voice growled in Harry's mind, deep and rough. 'I will not fight if you keep him safe.'
Harry nodded slowly. "I give you my word."
Saphira and Aëlindra shifted their positions, watching the male dragon carefully, but they did not interfere.
Harry turned to Eragon. "Can you walk?"
Eragon nodded, though his movements were stiff. "I'm fine."
"Good," Harry said, adjusting Murtagh's floating form behind him. "Let's get back."
Without another word, the two Riders and their dragons began their march across the battlefield, Murtagh's dragon following close behind, his massive form casting a shadow over them.
-oIo-
Daphne wiped her mouth with the back of her trembling hand, her body still weak from exhaustion and the overwhelming weight of what she had done.
Murder.
Astoria stood beside her, one hand resting on her shoulder in silent support. She looked up sharply when she heard the heavy footfalls of dragons approaching.
Her breath caught when she saw the red dragon.
He was larger than Saphira, his crimson scales gleaming with an unnatural lustre, and yet… he did not look victorious. His head was low, his movements subdued, his eyes locked on Harry, more specifically, on the red riders unconscious body.
Daphne staggered to her feet as Harry approached. She took one look at the levitating figure and frowned. "Harry…?"
Harry sighed. "Long story."
He carefully lowered the body onto the ground, keeping his wand trained on him as he stepped back.
Daphne's gaze flickered to the bound Rider, then to his dragon, who still watched closely but made no move to interfere.
Astoria's brows furrowed. "Who is he?"
Eragon, who had been silent during the trek back, finally spoke.
"…Murtagh," he said quietly, looking down at his unconscious half-brother. "He is my kin."
Astoria and Daphne exchanged a glance, while Harry turned to Eragon. "Explain."
Eragon exhaled, crossing his arms. "We share the same mother, Selena. She left the Empire before I was born, but Murtagh… he was raised under Galbatorix's rule. His father was Morzan, the first and most feared of the Forsworn." He gestured to the fallen Rider. "And like me, he became a Dragon Rider. But unlike me, he is bound to the King."
Daphne's expression twisted with realization. "So, he's… enslaved?"
Eragon hesitated, then nodded. "Yes."
Harry looked back at Murtagh, his grip tightening on his wand. He had suspected as much, given the way Murtagh spoke during their fight. He had power, skill, and intelligence, but not choice.
Astoria folded her arms. "And the dragon?"
'I am Thorn' the red dragon rumbled, his voice laced with exhaustion. 'I fight for my Rider, as all dragons must.'
A heavy silence followed.
Then, from the battlefield, a new sound rang out.
The horn of retreat.
-oIo-
From the far edges of the battlefield, the Empire's remaining forces faltered. Their morale had already been crumbling after Daphne's devastating spell, but now with Murtagh captured and Thorn subdued, it seemed they had lost their strongest weapon.
One by one, their commanders pulled back, giving the order to retreat.
The Varden, slightly battered but victorious, let out a collective cheer.
Roran, bloodied but still standing, slammed the head of his hammer against his shield and roared in triumph. He had returned to the battlefield to marshal injured Varden soldiers back. Around him, the remaining soldiers did the same, their voices rising into a battle cry that shook the fields.
Harry watched as the Empire's forces fled over the distant hills, their banners lowering, their siege engines abandoned in the mud.
The battlefield was littered with bodies, both human and horse. The air was thick with the acrid scent of blood, fire, and death.
Daphne, still weak, leaned against Aëlindra's foreleg. "So… what do we do with him?" She nodded toward Murtagh.
Eragon rubbed his temple, exhaustion clear in his posture. "We bring him to Nasuada. She will decide his fate."
Harry looked to Thorn. The red dragon had curled protectively around his Rider, watching them with wary golden eyes.
"I promised him I wouldn't harm Murtagh," Harry said quietly. "If Nasuada tries to kill him, Thorn won't stay passive."
Daphne grimaced. "And if she tries to keep him prisoner?"
"Then we may have another war to fight," Eragon muttered.
Astoria crossed her arms, considering. "Maybe there's another way."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "What are you thinking?"
Astoria sighed. "If he's enslaved, then there has to be a way to break him free."
Eragon frowned. "Galbatorix's magic is too strong. No one has been able to break it."
Harry looked at Murtagh, then back at his wand. "Maybe no one has tried our kind of magic."
Daphne's eyes widened. "Harry… you don't mean Legilimency?"
He met her gaze. "No."
Eragon glanced between them. "What are you two talking about?"
Harry exhaled. "Something we call Legilimency. If I can get into Murtagh's mind, I might be able to find a way to break Galbatorix's hold over him. But I am not a Legilimens… I was suggesting The Imperius Curse."
A heavy silence followed.
Then Daphne, still pale shook her head. "We came across this before. We can use the Imperius to make him forget his true name…"
"Daphne," Eragon began, "you read scrolls that you were not meant to read yet. Oromis was-"
"Wait now…" Harry raised his hands, "so what if it is magic we haven't studied fully yet, it can't hurt to try?"
Saphira rumbled uncomfortably, shifting her wings. 'Rest first,' she said firmly. 'Tomorrow, we decide.'
CRACK!
"The great Harry Potter sir!" squeaked Dobby from behind them.
A few onlookers were shocked and fell at the sight of the creature Dobby was.
"Yes Dobby?" Harry snickered under his breath.
"Is Master Harry okay?" Dobby surveyed the gruesome landscape.
"I am fine, thank you Dobby. Did you bring what we asked for?" Harry asked gently.
"I have already left them in your tent Master." Dobby smiled widely, but then slowly frowned. "Dobby met the great and kind Professor Dumbledore with Miss Hermione. He said that Dobby must not travel anymore, and that Harry must use his mirror." Dobby snapped his fingers and a mirror appeared in his hands.
"Er…" Harry said.
"What does the mirror do, Dobby?" Daphne asked, breaking Harry out of his stupor.
"Talk to Professor Dumbledore of course!" Dobby beamed at his exclamation.
Harry took the mirror from the elf. He looked into it doubtfully.
"Professor Dumbledore?" He asked unsure of whether he would look starkers or not.
"Harry my boy." The Headmasters face appeared in the mirror with concern.
Just then a tall, thin figure approached.
Arya.
"What is that?" she exclaimed, gesturing at Dobby.
"Dobby is a house elf. Tis' an honor to meet you!"
Arya's face froze in shock.