Chapter 45 – Battlefield Reunion

Excerpt from The Compendium of Tenga, Son of Ingvar, Second Edition:

When the Old One's bound magic to their language, they knew what that decision would cost them. Magic, in its raw state, is driven not by the caster's thoughts, but by their intent. Constraining magic to one's linguistic ability ultimately forces one to forfeit the true potential of not only magic, but their own imagination. Spells created by bound magic will never be completely inviolable, as the limits of language cannot encompass all possible outcomes.

Bound magic will never be as efficient as using it in its natural state, and can, with proper intent, surmount even the most verbose of spells.

Eragon wished he could have stayed in Tronjheim longer, but he had been away from the Varden for too long. The morning after Orik's coronation he packed his bags, gathering up supplies from the kitchens and ensuring that his precious cargo was stored away safely. When he checked on Thorn's Eldunarí, and the jewel that supplied the energy for the concealment spell, he was surprised to see that nearly half of its energy had been expended.

The remaining energy, supplied mostly by Glaedr, would last for some time after Eragon and Saphira reached Feinster, at least by his estimate.

During the festivities that accompanied Orik's accession, Eragon had to explain his need to depart in the morning, which the dwarf had easily waved away. He had pulled Eragon down to his height and told him that the dwarves would be marching soon as well, and that he wished Eragon and Saphira a safe flight.

When he was done with his preparation he strapped Saphira's saddle onto her back, and together they flew the five miles from Tronjheim to Farthen Dûr's inner wall. From there they entered one of the tunnels leading east, which would lead them back towards the surface of the Beor Mountains. Traveling down its length took more time then Eragon wished, but the tunnel was too small for Saphira to fly in. The walls scrapped at her wings as she trotted behind him, and Eragon had to slow his gait down in order for her to keep up.

Once they exited the tunnel, which deposited them into a valley, Eragon clambered back into the saddle as Saphira spread her wings. It was still early enough in the morning that Eragon was satisfied with their time, even with the vast distance between them and Feinster.

The fastest way for them to escape the mountain range was to travel slightly north down the valley, which would allow them to skirt the Beor Mountains south-westerly until they reached the southern tip of Tudosten Lake. From there they would cross the border of the Empire and Surda multiple times, flying north of Cithrí and eventually south of Melian.

Then it was the simple matter of crossing the Jiet River, with Feinster situated off the coast of the western sea.

It was midday when Saphira landed to drink from a nearby stream, and Eragon pulled out his mirror. He scried Nasuada's own mirror and was forced to wait while one of her attendants retrieved her, and Eragon spent the time gazing at the cloudless sky. At least the weather seemed to be fair, which would allow Saphira to conserve her energy.

Nasuada stepped into the frame of the mirror, covering the red fabric of the tent that Eragon had first seen. "Eragon! Forgive me, but I was in a meeting."

Eragon waved the matter aside. "I did not know when to scry, but I have news from Tronjheim."

Nasuada raised an eyebrow, and Eragon recited for her the last few days events. He had wanted to scry both Arya and her in order to share the news of Orik's accession, but the festivities ran longer then he had anticipated and their early departure prevented him from doing so.

When he was done, Nasuada let out a sigh of relief. "That's good to hear. You managed to preserve our alliance with the dwarves, and for that I am grateful. How long until the rest of the dwarves' army will march?"

"Orik has already ordered his warriors to prepare. I imagine that it will take them a few days, but they should be enroute soon."

Nasuada nodded her understanding, "Where are you now?'

"On our way to Feinster. Arya has been keeping me appraised of the situation, but the last time I had spoken with her was over three days ago. Did you reach the city walls?"

"Yes," Nasuada nodded. "We have been preparing for the siege. We've had to fend off marauders from Lady Lorana on our march towards Feinster, but having Arya and Fírnen by our side has greatly helped. She has taken her role as the interim Leader quite seriously, allowing us to gain ground against the Empire."

A smile graced Eragon's lips. He hadn't expected anything more from Arya. She always extremely resolved in her sense of duty, perhaps even more then he was. It was something that had first allowed the two of them to grow close. "That's good to hear," Eragon replied. "How long before you begin the assault?"

Nasuada's brows dipped, her gaze moving off towards something Eragon couldn't see. "We've already held off for too long, I'm afraid. If we delay any longer we run the risk of depleting our stock of supplies. We've been able to secure, with your cousins help, many of the territories surrounding the city. When do you believe you and Saphira will be here?"

Eragon turned towards Saphira, who had just finished cleaning the mud from the river off her claws. She blinked at him, Three days, if the winds do not change.

Eragon repeated her estimate, and he could see Nasuada frown. "I will try to stall until you arrive, but we may not be able to wait. I best not be keeping you any longer; fly fast, Saphira, and do not let anything slow you."

Nasuada turned from the mirror, and Eragon ended the spell. Placing the mirror back into his bag, Eragon looked to Saphira. "Ready?"

She offered him only a snort in reply, so he quickly climbed up to his post on her back. With a powerful leap Saphira launched them into the air, her wings spreading out and pumping hard against the air.

The long days spent flying together reminded Eragon of their time in the east. He had grown used to only being able to hear the sounds of Saphira's wings maintaining a steady beat and the dull rush of wing that flowed past Eragon's ears. Once, long ago, Saphira would have been panting with effort as her muscles screamed in pain, but the centuries that had passed had only increased her stamina a substantial amount. Now she could fly for days on end without rest, though the swiftness of their flight did begin to wear on her by the third day.

They were maintaining a good speed; they left the Beor Mountains behind and entered the territory belonging to the Empire, skirting the line between Surda and Galbatorix's domain constantly. When Saphira's wings wobbled in the air and she dropped suddenly, Eragon straightened in the saddle. She was able to easily right them, though he could feel a slight surprise emanating through their bond.

He didn't see anything that could have caused the disturbance. It was pitch black out, with only the stars above to guide them, and not even Saphira's keen sight was enough to make out any detail of the ground below. A dragon's sense of direction was better than any others, so he trusted her implicitly with navigating them.

We've reached the Jiet River. The air is cool and moist, and I wasn't expecting the sudden inversion. Saphira explained.

Feinster should not be much farther ahead, Eragon replied. We should be able to see city from this height, even as dark as it is.

Saphira agreed with his assessment, driving her wings harder against the wind. As they neared the city Eragon began to ready himself as best he could. He had already strapped on his armor when they entered the Empire's borders, so instead he retreated into his mind and started to mediate in the manner Tenga's scrolls had taught him.

It helped calm his stormy mind, letting the worries of the battle ahead wash away. He could feel Saphira's eagerness for battle in her own mind, though she was careful of letting it drip into his too much. Part of Eragon always enjoyed battle, allowing him to pit himself against his enemies with his strength, but even after all this time he never enjoyed the killing. It was why he took so much pleasure in sparring with Arya; it allowed them to truly see each other, in the way only such a physical act of exertion could.

The hour was late when Eragon was finally able to see the fires, appearing little more than faint motes of light moving chaotically in the distance. As they neared Feinster, he could begin to make out the siege the city was undergoing; bubbling cauldrons of pitch were being dumped over the sides of the walls, arrows streaming through the night sky from both the Varden and the defenders of the city, and the faint boom as the battering ram crashed into the city's gates.

The Varden had entrenched themselves around the part of the city that was facing land, and all Eragon could see where the burning, destroyed remains of the hovels outside the walls. Nasuada must have her men to clear a path to the city, allowing them to move freely in the open space.

Eragon drew Brisingr in a single flourish. Shall we?

Saphira answered his call, releasing a roar that made Eragon's bones rattle, a stream of blue fire following behind to announce their presence.

Both armies paused for a moment, turning to face the night sky. The Varden began to cheer in earnest, pounding their shields and calling out into the dark. An answering roar came from the outside of the city, the smaller green flames showing Eragon Fírnen's location.

Saphira made to bank towards the younger dragon, but a familiar mind touched his own.

Eragon! Brom said, his mind filling with both relief and urgency. Arya and Glenwing are inside the walls, trying to open the gates from within! It's all I can do to hold back Fírnen, but they need your help.

Sending a reply of understanding back to his father, Eragon reached out and touched Fírnen's mind.

Eragon-elda, the dragon cried out. He could feel the dragon's displeasure at being kept from Arya, as well as the worry that was bubbling inside. It is good that you arrived.

Eragon smiled, even if the dragon could not see his expression. Fírnen, I want you to follow Saphira and I into the city.

Gladly, the dragon growled.

Bring Blödhgarm, Eragon added, and any other of his spellcasters if you can.

He received Fírnen's affirmation, and Eragon closed his mind off to his surroundings.

Saphira dived towards the city, the tall walls growing larger with each passing second. It took her nearly a full minute before she reached the ramparts, the speed of her descent making Eragon's arms feel heavy. She rolled through the air, dodging the incoming stream of arrows, and flared her wings sharply. Her tail and claws lashed out at the soldiers manning the wall, knocking scores of them down to the earth bellow. Their bellowing screams echoed before cutting off, and Eragon did not need to look to know that the fall had been fatal.

A frustrated roar echoed behind them, and he turned to see Fírnen following closely and copying Saphira's attack, two dark figures on his back. Ahead Saphira spotted a group of soldiers near one of the southern towers, spears and swords raised as they surrounded two figures.

With a single bound Saphira cleared the distance, smashing into the line of soldiers in the back. Startled cries came from the men as she lashed out, a growl of frustration leaving her snarling lips as the men scurried away in fear. While she was busy clearing the area, Eragon leaned down as best he could and unstrapped himself from the saddle, leaping clear of her flashing tail and claws when he saw an opportunity.

The weight of his armor caused him to roll when he landed, and as he straightened himself Brisingr rose and deflected a sword meant for his head. Quicker than any elf he returned a strike, his sword cleaving through the man's armor in two. Pushing the soldier away from him, Eragon turned and struck out at the nearest soldier, watching as many of the others began to panic and run.

A loud thud told him that Fírnen had joined in, green flames bellowing from his jaws towards the retreating soldiers. When the last of the men vanished or had been dealt with, Eragon turned towards the two elves before him.

Both of them were garbed in black leather armor, their helms painted over so that it would not cast any reflection. Arya and Glenwing panted hard as they turned to him, and Eragon could not help the smile that rose when Arya cried, "Eragon!"

They rushed over to him, but Fírnen leapt forward, ramming into Arya and causing her to fall towards the ground. Eragon's eyes widened at the dragon, and he intending to rush over to them, but Saphira told him to wait.

The green dragon peered down at Arya, lips twitching as he growled menacingly. Arya sat up and placed a hand on the dragon's snout, and it was only then that Eragon noticed he was devoid of his previous passengers.

Glancing around, Eragon could see Blödhgarm and one of his spellcasters checking the area, and their presence allowed Eragon to turn towards Glenwing. The elf was panting hard next to him, bent over with his hands resting against his knees. Raising an eyebrow, Eragon asked, "Are you all right?"

Glenwing waved at him. "That remains to be seen." After a moment, the elf straightened, and Eragon finally got a good look at the elf; blood coated nearly every garment he wore, though he did not seem to be injured. Glenwing smiled at him and slapped Eragon's shoulder, grimacing when his hand met the elven armor Eragon wore. "Glad to see that you made it in time, friend."

Eragon returned the greeting with a slight smile, before nodding his head in Arya's direction. "What's with them?" he murmured softly.

Glenwing shook his head. "Fírnen didn't want to stay behind. Arya convinced Nasuada that we should stage tonight's attack so that we could sneak into the city and open the gates, but Fírnen was firmly against it. They were arguing right up until we left."

That's a first, Eragon thought to himself. For as long as he had known them, he had never seen them in conflict with one another.

Saphira snorted. It's not like I haven't wanted to thrash you before, Eragon. Turning towards Glenwing she nudged him with her snout, causing the elf to stumble slightly. It pleases me that you are well, Glenwing.

Glenwing beamed at Saphira, reaching up a hand and running it across her scales. While the two began to converse lightly, Eragon strode over to Fírnen and Arya. They were still deep in conversation, but Eragon knew that their temporary recess in the battle wouldn't last much longer.

Fírnen must have heard him approaching, for the dragon snorted and straightened himself. The dragon stepped over to the side, and Eragon peered down at Arya. Similarly to Glenwing, she was coated in blood, but he was glad to see that she was likewise unharmed. Reaching out a gloved hand, Eragon smiled.

The frown that she was wearing disappeared, and he could see her delight at his presence. She took his hand in her own and Eragon pulled her onto her feet. Her gaze roamed over his features before she shook her head. "There's no time," Arya pressed, her stoic expression returning. "We need to open the gates. The battering rams are useless against the wards they've place on them, and it's the only way for the Varden to enter the city."

Gesturing with a free hand, Eragon said, "Let's go." He wanted to ask after her and Fírnen, but now was not the time.

Arya nodded, her eyes tracing over his features. "You look well," she said before striding forward.

Eragon blinked and shook his head, following in her wake. Blödhgarm drew up next to him, and greeted him, "Shadeslayer."

He was about to respond when soldiers began to pour out of a dark alleyway. Arya was the first to meet their assault, and Eragon rushed forward with Brisingr held high. He could hear Glenwing and Blödhgarm joining in, as well as the other elf in their company. It didn't take them long to dispatch the soldiers, and Arya pointed at the city gates, "Hurry!"

She took off in a sprint, Eragon and the others racing after her. Behind him her could hear claws scratching against the stone street, Saphira and Fírnen close behind. Soldiers continued to leap out at them from the buildings and alleyways, but none of them were able to slow Eragon's company. Saphira and Fírnen would let loose a blast of fire at any who escaped their blades, the soldiers screaming in agony as Eragon pushed his group onward.

Arya was heading straight for the gates of the city, and as they neared Eragon could hear the battering rams growing louder. The iron gates were nearly forty feet tall, with three figures garbed in strange red cloaks chanting before it. As his group neared he saw them stop and sprint off into an alleyway, the dark night swallowing them in its clutches.

Damn.

Soldiers began to stream out from the guard towers situated on either side of the gates, their number closing in on over fifty. To Glenwing and Blödhgarm Eragon whispered, "Go, we will deal with them. Open the gates."

The two elves nodded their heads, slipping into the dark shadow of the nearby houses. The other elf, who Eragon only then realized was Yaela, followed Glenwing. Arya stopped and Eragon stood beside her, Saphira and Fírnen closing in behind them.

The soldiers of Feinster stood straight in front of him, but he could see their trembling limbs at the sight of the two dragons. He could feel Saphira readying herself, and Eragon held out an arm.

"Soldiers of Feinster!" Eragon cried out, Brisingr hanging low at his side. "I am Eragon Shadeslayer, Leader of the Riders! I have sworn to remove Galbatorix from his throne, and any that stand before me are to be considered my enemy! If you are not sworn in fealty to the Empire, then surrender yourselves to us! You will not be harmed."

A solider stepped forward and spat on the ground. "Never shall you pass, you foul demons! We will never surrender our home to the likes of you, you inhuman monsters!" To his men the man said, "Look at him! He's not even human! You're a traitor to your race!"

The solider advanced forward, his sword and shield held up before him. "I'd sooner die then turn Lady Lorena over to the likes of you!"

Eragon raised Brisingr up, and without a word the sword shot from his hands. Brisingr stabbed straight through the mans shield and through his body, the tip of his sword sticking out of his back. The men behind him cried out in fear, and Brisingr pulled itself free of the man as he began to fall over.

Catching his sword, Eragon shouted, "Lay down your weapons or die!"

Only half of the soldiers heeded Eragon's words, a mix of them kneeling down and throwing away their weapons or taking off into the city. The rest charged at him with brandished swords and spears, and Eragon readied himself. Next to him Arya did the same, and the two dragon's let out twin roars.

Springing forward in unison, Arya and Eragon carved through the soldiers with relative ease. Their movements were too fast for the soldiers to discern, and one by one they fell before the Riders. Saphira and Fírnen dispatched any that slipped past the two, the heat of their flames burning the men alive inside their armor.

The gates began to open, groaning under the weight of the battering rams. Blödhgarm and Glenwing appeared from the gatehouses just as the doors begun to open, hands appearing in the small gap. It took the soldiers a moment to open the gates wide enough for them to pass through, dwarves and men alike pushing through. When they saw him they cried out in joy, and Eragon held up a hand to greet them.

He could hear in the distance the shouting from Feinster's soldiers, calling for their men to retreat towards the heart of the city. Pointing to a few of the soldiers that surrendered, Eragon ordered them to be held captive. A few soldiers came forward immediately at his word.

Rank by rank the Varden began to swarm into the city, moving around Eragon and the others. As they continued to pass Eragon could see Roran in the distance with a few others from Carvahall. His cousin looked weary and tired, as he stopped before him, and Eragon reached out and grasped his forearm.

"About time." Roran grunted.

Eragon frowned, examining the mans face. "Did something happen?"

Roran shook his head, but was interrupted when a familiar voice called out to him. "Shadeslayer! Well met indeed!"

Jörmundur rode atop his steed, bringing the horse to a halt before Eragon. Greeting him in turn, Eragon asked, "Where's Nasuada?"

Her second-in-command pointed over his shoulder towards the rear of the Varden. "In the rear, coordinating our forces with King Orrin."

What? Why isn't she here?

Perhaps her injuries after the Trial where more severe then she let on, Saphira guessed.

Maybe.

Jörmundur turned towards Roran, but Eragon quickly interjected. "Arya and I will fly to the keep. We will meet you up there."

Jörmundur nodded and spurred his horse on, casting Roran one last sour glance. To his cousin, Eragon said, "Go, and watch yourself."

Roran nodded and clapped him on the back. "You do the same." With that his cousin returned to his rank at a light jog, rejoining the villagers.

Arya bounded up into Fírnen's saddle, and Eragon did the same with Saphira. The remaining elven spellcasters had rejoined them, standing next to the dragons and awaiting his orders.

To Blödhgarm, Eragon said, "Join the front. You'll better serve the Varden from below then with us."

The elf nodded his head, and without a word to his companions took off. The other elves followed behind, and Eragon turned towards Glenwing. "Watch over my cousin, will you?"

Glenwing smiled up at him. "Gladly."

Saphira leapt the large distance to the top of the parapet in a single bound, spreading her wings and taking flight. Below them Eragon could see Fírnen follow behind, using the staircase in order to climb the remaining distance. Once they were in the air Saphira angled back towards the city, and Eragon reached out his mind to Arya.

Her mind was shielded behind thick walls, only relaxing them when Eragon waited patiently.

I'll take the south side of the city, and you the north. We can work our way up to the keep while helping the Varden.

Very well. Arya responded, before hesitating.

What is it? Eragon asked.

Something stirred inside her, disappearing deeper into the depths of her mind before Eragon could discern what it was. I'm glad you here.

I missed you too, Eragon replied, before closing his mind off to her.

Saphira snorted from underneath him. She turned towards the southern part of the city, following the steady march of the soldiers. Careful, little one, she teased, or your elf is going to get the wrong idea.

Eragon sighed.

Together, they worked their way through their part of the city, landing wherever Saphira could and helping the Varden soldiers. Every group of Empire soldiers Eragon offered the same option, surrender in peace or die. Only a handful of soldiers ever did, and those he promised that they would be treated well. A few times they spotted Varden soldiers overwhelmed in areas that Saphira could not land, the streets of Feinster too narrow for her to fit, so Eragon would leap the distance to the ground and use his magic to slow his fall.

Climbing up the side of the buildings was a chore, but Eragon did not want to leave the soldiers to fend for themselves. Saphira would swoop down and grasp him in her claws, and Eragon could carefully clamber back up into the saddle.

After clearing the latest street of soldiers, Eragon turned to Saphira with a frown. "Where are all the Empire's spellcasters? We haven't been able to find a single one since the gates."

Saphira sniffed at the air. I sensed the those three again when I would wait for you, but they haven't rejoined the battle.

"I don't like this," Eragon commented.

They continued their fight, pushing further into the city as the night wore on. A few times Eragon found groups of men from either the Varden or King Orrin's contingent making off with their spoils of war, and Eragon would command them to return the goods from wherever they were taken. The men cast him sour looks but complied, especially when Saphira growled.

Once, a group of Varden soldiers found him and begged his help, and Eragon found the rest of their company pinned down by archers inside a stone building. Saphira had leapt atop it and tore off the roof, filling the building with fire. When she returned the soldiers edged away from her, their expressions filled with a mix of awe and fear.

The night wore on, and the Varden's progress was slow. The soldiers of the city fought furiously, defending their streets with a fervor that surprised him. It wasn't until the morning sun had crested the horizon that the Varden finally reached the keep. The large structure loamed over the rest of the city, surrounded by high towers of differing heights. From what Eragon could see, the front courtyard contained four catapults that were manned, as well as hundreds of soldiers who were waiting for the Varden.

The only way in was through a narrow passageway in the curtain wall that surrounded the courtyard, halting the Varden's progress. Arrows flew back and forth between the armies, and the Varden was preparing the battering ram they had brought with them from the city's gates, but neither side seemed to hold any advantage. Saphira dropped onto a parapet, clearing the area as Eragon leapt down off her back.

A roar resounded above them, and Eragon glanced upward to see Fírnen landing on the small sliver of space Saphira wasn't occupying. Arya leapt down, and he could see that she had acquired some armor; it was not her typical elven armor but a mail hauberk and full-sized helm, but it was better than just her leather armor.

His gaze roamed over her briefly, and when he was satisfied that she was uninjured Eragon gestured at the gate. "Do you want to, or should I?"

A single eyebrow rose on her face, half-concealed behind her helm. She glanced over at the catapults below. "I'll do it," Arya answered.

Letting out a sigh, Eragon could see her lips twitching in response. Was this for his comment earlier?

Turning back to Saphira, Eragon placed one of his feet on the straps of her saddle and reached up to grasp the leg straps in his hands. With him hanging off her side, Saphira jumped down to the courtyard below, jarring Eragon from the impact. Letting go of her saddle he pushed away from her, drawing Brisingr from his sheathe.

Soldiers were panicking around him, many of them fleeing Saphira, but a brave few charged the dragon head on. With a snarl Saphira struck, her wards protecting her from the arrows and blades of the men. Twisting around, Eragon helped clear the area of soldiers, moving swiftly between the men and felling them in his wake. The sounds of wood snapping echoed behind him as Eragon parried strike after strike, Brisingr flashing in his hand as he returned blows.

Most of the soldiers inside the courtyard retreated into the keep, and when Eragon killed the last of them he turned to Saphira. She had just finished destroying the last catapult, her gaze sweeping across the courtyard in search of her prey.

Knowing that she there, Eragon strode over to his side of the passageway. The sounds of wood breaking met his ears, and Eragon leaned against the curtain wall beside the doors, placing the tip of Brisingr against the ground and spinning the blade with his hand.

The twin door closest to him was barred by a single large plank of wood, and Eragon saw a green blade suddenly appear in between them. The blade descended on the plank and cut through it in a single flourish, and not moments later the door was pulled open.

Arya was standing on the other side, panting with effort. Her eyes moving around the courtyard, taking in the wreckage that Saphira had wrought and the lack of enemy soldiers. She entered slowly, and Eragon said, "Fancy seeing you here."

She moved so quickly that Eragon saw only a blur. Blinking, Eragon glanced down at Támerlein, inches from his neck. Arya wore a fierce expression before it dropped, a flash of surprise appearing before settling into a glare. He could see her exhaustion clearly on her face, and at once Eragon felt terrible.

A choking sound came from Saphira, and it took him a moment to realize that she was laughing at him.

Eragon offered Arya a smile, but she merely continued to glare at him. He reached a hand up and placed it on her arm, channeling some spare energy from Brisingr's pommel into her. When her face relaxed he cut off the flow of energy, though she only let out a sigh and shook her head at him.

This is why I like her, Saphira commented. One look and she is able to bring you down a notch.

Eragon frowned. Saphira!

He glanced over at Arya. She had turned her head away from him, gazing up at the keep with her usual passive expression, but he could see the back of her neck redden.

The Varden were advancing into the courtyard, pushing up towards the keep. The large doors of Lady Lorana's home were shut, and Jörmundur was shouting for the men to bring up the rams. To Arya, Eragon said, "It will take all day to break through the front and storm the keep. Do you want to come with us and try to enter from above?"

Fírnen landed next to them, blood coating his jaw and claws. The red substance contrasted greatly against the green of his scales, and the soldiers of the Varden gave the dragon a wide berth. Arya gave him a nod in answer, so Eragon turned to Saphira and settled into her saddle.

Blödhgarm and a few of his other elves appeared next to them. The wolf-elf's fur was standing on edge from the battle, and the elf gave him a toothy grin. "Shadeslayer," Blödhgarm said. "What would you command us do?"

"Help the Varden breach the doors to the keep. Jörmundur is readying the battering rams, but he could use your assistance," Eragon said. "Where are the rest of your companions?"

"Two I sent to help the Varden healers," Blödhgarm explained quickly. "The others are scouring the city for any last resistance."

Eragon nodded. "We are headed to capture Lady Lorana, and see if we can but a halt to the battle. Enough blood has been shed already." Eragon paused and reconsidered. "On second thought, it would be best if one of you joined us."

Without hesitation Blödhgarm stepped onto Saphira's foreleg and vaulted up her side, settling behind Eragon. Saphira spread her wings and took off into the sky. Fírnen followed soon after, and Eragon could see the group of elves make for the keep. The two dragons flew high above the keep and circled around the structure, looking for any place that might be able to fit.

I do not see anywhere I can enter, Saphira growled. I could fit on the one of the balconies, but not with Fírnen.

Drop me off at the highest tower, Eragon told her. The three of us can make our way down.

What of us? Saphira asked.

If you cannot fit, then Fírnen will go in your stead.

Bellow him, Saphira rumbled in displeasure. She alighted next to the tower he had indicated, her claws digging into the stone side, and Blödhgarm was the first to make the leap towards the steep roof. Once Blödhgarm took a step to the side Eragon copied his movements. Saphira twisted in the air, her wings buffeting them with strong currents as she took off.

Fírnen had done the same with Arya on the other side of the tower, and she met the two of them as they lowered themselves down and into the large square room below. The tower was filled with crossbows and various other weapons of war, but Eragon did not see any soldiers manning them. They must have fled when the two dragons landed on the tower.

Arya moved towards the staircase heading down into the keep, and Blödhgarm kneeled on the floor and touched the rough stone.

"There is an undercurrent of power here," Blödhgarm noted quietly. "I sense five individuals with there minds closed off to me. We should be wary of a trap."

Something about the flow of magic felt familiar to Eragon. It felt as though it was slithering across his skin and made him shiver, but he could not place where he had experienced such magic before.

Arya took the lead in descending the stairs, her footsteps silent. Blödhgarm followed, and Eragon trailed behind. The room the stairs led into was larger then the previous, and furnished in the fashion that Eragon expected of a Lord or Lady. Paintings were mounted on every inch of the walls, displaying portraits of various people that Eragon believed to be the previous governors and their families.

Towards the northern wall was the balcony Saphira had indicated earlier, closed off by wooden shutters, while on the opposite side sat a number of small tables. At one of them Eragon could see an older woman seated on one of the chairs, but Eragon's attention was away towards the center of the room.

The three magicians he had seen at the gates of the city were standing in a rough circle around a fourth similarly garbed individual, their arms extended over him and touching. As Arya stepped off the stairs and into the room, Eragon reached out a hand and grabbed her arm.

She turned and gave him a curious glance, but Eragon shook his head at her and gestured for her to remain silent. The magicians were chanting in the ancient language while the fourth remained silent, and the familiarity of the words had finally stirred something in Eragon's memory.

Horror erupted in Eragon, and he had to fight back the flashes of memory from the last time he had seen this ritual. Leaning down towards Arya's ear, Eragon whispered, "They are creating another Shade."

He could see Arya's eyes widen, and Blödhgarm shifted uneasily next to them. Arya cast him a forlorn expression. "We need to stop them."

Eragon nodded, and the three of them charged at the nearest sorcerer. A loud crash from the balcony signaled the arrival of one of the dragons, and Eragon swung Brisingr at the robed magician's head. The instance before his sword struck Brisingr was wrenched to the side, glancing off a powerful ward surrounding the magician. The same happened with Arya's sword and Blödhgarm's, and Eragon cursed lightly under his breath.

Whatever wards they had protecting them were powerful; Brisingr could cut through nearly any ward, enchanted as it was by Rhunön herself.

He could use magic to circumvent the wards, but Eragon hesitated. Using spells directly against an unknown enemy was a perilous proposition, and they would risk death at the hands of any stray wards. A thought occurred to Eragon, and before Arya and Blödhgarm could strike he called out, "Wait!"

Their swords paused in midair, hanging over the red-robed magician. The man paid them no attention, the terrible spell they sought to unleash spilling from his lips uninterrupted.

The two elves turned to him, perplexed by Eragon's order.

Taking a deep breath, Eragon stilled his mind in the way that the Grey Folk scrolls had taught him.

Envision your reality, and let the magic make it so.

A loud pop echoed through the chamber as the wards surrounding the man dissipated; Eragon had stripped all magic from the man, but the cost drove Eragon to his knees. His vision blurred for a moment as he tried to right himself. Scuffling sounds came from where the magician was, but Eragon had to close his eyes briefly to fight off the feeling of vertigo.

A firm hand gripped his shoulder and hauled him to his feet. Arya was casting a worried gaze over him, and as his vision cleared Eragon said, "I'm fine."

Blödhgarm had tackled the sorcerer to the ground, halting his incantation. "Don't kill him," Eragon commanded. Blödhgarm whispered a spell, and the man slumped over, unconscious.

In response to their efforts the other two magicians sped up their chanting, but made no other move. The sounds of a table crushing drew Eragon's attention to Fírnen, who had been the one to land on the balcony. Saphira was nowhere to be seen, but based on the thirty-foot ceilings he knew it was unlikely that she would have been able to fit inside. His mind was closed off from everyone around him, which left him unable to ascertain her location.

The green dragon stepped over to one of the magicians and swung a paw and like Brisingr was deflected away. Moving over to the other sorcerer, Eragon concentrated his mind again as a cluster of multicolored lights swarmed into the room from the destroyed shutters. They aimed straight for the man seated between the two remaining magicians, leaving behind faint streaks of light. The man screamed and threw up his hands as if to fend off the spirits.

The air crackled with energy, and Eragon felt true fear shoot through him. No, not again! Eragon thought. Determination filled him, and Eragon gripped Brisingr tightly in his hand and raised the blade.

This time, instead of relying on the Grey Folk magic, Eragon used a spell he had learned specifically for this purpose. Ílyae's spell flowed from his lips, the steady chant of the ancient language calming his mind and making him focus. He could hear Fírnen hissing beside him while Arya and Blödhgarm attempted to kill the other magicians.

Each of the spirits began to pulse with light, the strobing effect they gave off nearly blinding in its intensity, but Eragon did not waver. As the last word left his lips he could see the spirits converge on the man, their intangible bodies disappearing into his skin.

The spell took effect, and Eragon knew no more.

When Eragon awoke, the only thing he could see was a giant yellow eye peering down at him. Startled, he tried to sit up, but his pounding head caused him to fall back down to the hard stone floor. Fírnen blinked, and Eragon felt a mind brush against his own.

Eragon-elda?

His heart slowed its racing as Eragon finally took stock of his bearings. He was laying on the floor in the chamber of the keep, and he could hear a conversation towards the other end of the room. Groaning, he glanced up at Fírnen standing over him. Letting out a groan, Eragon slowly stood while Fírnen retreated to give him space.

When he was finally on his feet, Eragon glanced around at the room. The furniture that had once decorated the room was thoroughly destroyed, thrown about as though a great wind had swept into the chambers. On the other side of the room he could see Arya and Blödhgarm speaking to the older woman, and Eragon hazarded a guess that it was Lady Lorana herself.

Fírnen nudged him gently with a snout, and Eragon rested his hand against the dragon's scales. "I'm alright," he groaned. "What happened?"

The dragon snorted, a puff of smoke escaping his nostrils. I could not see what happened, as the second your spell took hold the spirits became too bright to look at even for me. After you collapsed Blödhgarm checked the would-be Shade and found no sign of the spirits. It seems your spell worked.

Despite the situation, Eragon could not help the small smile that grew on his lips. It worked. This time, it actually worked.

He could feel something stirring inside of him, desperate to get out, but he knew that now was not the time. Not with the battle still likely raging outside the keep.

"Where's Saphira?" Eragon asked Fírnen.

When you collapsed she tried to tear off the roof of the keep, the dragon said, a rumble letting Eragon know that Fírnen found her actions humorous. We eventually convinced her that she was not able to fit inside without dropping the roof on our heads and that you were fine. She's waiting down below in the courtyard.

Saphira was not going to be happy with him, it seemed.

Eragon rubbed the dragon's scales lightly before heading towards the others. Fírnen ambled about, sniffing at the destroyed contents of the room, and Eragon stopped besides Arya. Blödhgarm was standing off to the side with their sole prisoner, and Eragon glanced over to the center of the room and saw that both the man in the middle and the other two magicians were dead.

Arya examined him critically, her eyes narrowed. When she was satisfied that he was well, she gave him a tense nod towards the older woman. "Lady Lorana was telling us about the magicians. They were sworn in service of another, but she does not know whom. Only that they in turn serve Galbatorix."

"Why make the Shade?" Eragon asked grimly. "Where they that desperate?'

The older woman was carefully watching Fírnen as the dragon continued his perusal, her eyes a mix of fear and awe. "They merely wished to cause as much destruction and pain as they could before they died."

How could such people exist, to covet nothing but death and chaos? The thought of this mysterious group of magicians made Eragon's blood boil. It wasn't a coincidence that now two Shade's had been created at the hands of the Empire; whoever they were, these magicians knew what they were doing.

"We need to escort her to Jörmundur," Eragon noted. The Lady was bound to the chair, likely done by the magicians, and they released her from her confines. Blödhgarm hefted their prisoner over his should as though he weighed no more than a bag of flour, and Lady Lorana led the way down the tower and into the courtyard.

The fighting had mostly concluded, with the Varden either having captured or slain the vast majority of the city's fighters. The few remaining soldiers surrendered once they caught sight of Lady Lorana, their weapons clattering to the floor in defeat. Jörmundur came jogging up from a group of soldiers, the veteran warrior bowing to Lady Lorana and promising that her and her people would be well treated.

Saphira was on the opposite end of the courtyard, assisting some of the Varden men in removing some of the more troublesome defensives the soldiers had placed. She was tearing down a barricade that a soldier had directed her to, and after a moment Eragon realized that the soldier was actually Roran. His cousin looked uninjured to Eragon, though he could see how much the battle had drained him.

He waited for her to finish her work besides Arya, while Blödhgarm rejoined his companions and promised he would keep watch over the lone sorcerer they had captured. Fírnen had rejoined them from the balcony, his abrupt entrance causing the few remaining captive soldiers to cower from the sight of two dragons. When Saphira finally was free of her duties she made her way towards them, a familiar figure at her side.

Glenwing offered him a tired smile. "Heard it was quite the affair, capturing the Lady of Feinster."

Eragon sighed, running a tired hand over his body. "Something like that."

Saphira snorted and pushed her snout against his chest forcefully. That's the second time you've collapsed after using that spell.

He stumbled, only to be straightened by Arya's firm grasp. She helped right him and then quickly let go, and Eragon casted a concerned glance her way. Her expression gave nothing away save her own exhaustion, and Eragon could do nothing but push the matter aside for now.

"I know," Eragon grumbled. "I'm tired and would like to sleep. Let us find Nasuada and make sure theirs nothing else that needs our attention."

It took the better part of an hour to find Nasuada. She was astride her horse and inspecting remains of the battle, and her face filled with relief when she spotted them.

"You managed to arrive in time," Nasuada greeted them. "I received news that Lady Lorana has surrendered the city. Was it true that a group of magicians were attempting to make another Shade?"

With a grim expression Eragon nodded. "Yes. We managed to disrupt the spell. Is there anything else you need of us? Saphira and I have not slept in days, and I would rather explain everything that happened when we are refreshed."

"No," Nasuada shook her head. "You've done more then enough for the day, Rider. Your tents are already prepared for you outside the city; I've ordered the Varden to secure the city, but there may be some sympathizers that still remain."

Eragon gave her a grateful smile. Nasuada lightly kicked the side of her stallion and the horse took off, giving them a faint wave in farewell as she continued her perusal of the city. The trek towards the main gates was quiet, and even Glenwing's usual disposition was sobered by the aftermath of the siege.

The Varden had set there camp to the right of the main gates, and it did not take long for them to find their tents. Glenwing disappeared into his own with a yawn and a half-hearted wave, while Eragon and Arya set about the task of removing the dragons' saddles.

Saphira and Fírnen promptly curled up beside their respective Rider's tents, and Eragon turned to look at Arya. She was spattered in blood, much like himself he supposed, and the mail armor she had acquired was missing several of its links. She gave him a small smile before disappearing into her tent without a word, and Eragon let out a sigh and entered his own.

Removing his armor was an arduous task, made only worse by the soreness of his muscles and the tiredness he felt in his bones. Fortunately, whoever had set up his tent included a makeshift bowl for him to use, as well as several cloths, so Eragon took the time to carefully clean himself.

When he was finished he pulled some fresh clothing he had stored away with his other possessions before collapsing heavily onto his cot. Saphira was asleep outside, her steady breath loud besides the tent, and Eragon closed his eyes to finally catch some much-needed rest.

A knock came from the post on his tent. Blinking blearily, Eragon sat up and groaned out, "Enter."

Arya pushed the fabric aside, slipping into his tent without a whisper of sound. Her armor had been removed, and much like him she had taken the time to clean herself from the grime of battle. She wore her usual black leather attire, but Eragon was surprised to see that her hair fell freely around her features.

The sight of her made him spring from his cot and to his feet, but when he caught her gaze the tension in air caused him to freeze. Arya seemed equally a frozen, her lips slightly parted as though she was about to speak.

Eragon was the first to break the spell, a chuckle escaping him at their similar reactions. His brief laugh must have unstuck her, and the next thing he knew Arya was embracing him tightly. He wound his arms around her and squeezed, the tension in his body disappearing. Eragon did not know how long they remained locked together, but eventually Arya pulled back far enough so that she could see him.

Arya smiled, a true smile that made his heart skip in his chest, before tilting her head up and kissing him. A surprised sound left Eragon before he responded, his chapped lips moving against her own soft ones. The kiss was unlike any of the ones they shared before; there was a sense of relief to it, and a hint of desperation, as though they were trying to impart their very being into each other through the contact.

When Eragon's hands wandered from her back to her hips and slipped beneath her tunic, a small sound escaped Arya. They both froze and opened their eyes, and Eragon heart tripled its timing in his chest at how close she was to him. Her gaze jumped between his own and her lips parted, the sight of it making him dart in and capture her lips again.

This time the kiss was different; heat grew between them as their lips moved over one another, and Eragon let the hand under her tunic roam over her taunt stomach. Arya unwound one of her hands from him and pressed lightly on his chest. Believing that she wanted him to stop, Eragon tried to pull away, but Arya chased after him.

She continued to lightly press at him until he took the cue and stepped back, his legs colliding with the edge of his cot. Another push had him falling backwards, and he exhaled hard when his back hit the cot and Arya followed on top of him. Her knees came up on either side as she straddled him, her slight weight barely noticeable to Eragon.

She was relentless, capturing his top lip between her own and biting down hard on it, and Eragon could not help the groan at escaped him. The noise only seemed to spur Arya on. Her hands roamed over his chest softly, the sensation leaving behind goosebumps in her wake. His hand under her tunic trailed over her stomach, his fingers teasingly moving upward before descending. She would shiver each time his fingers came close to her chest, her heavy breathing matching his own.

As much as Eragon was enjoying this, he could feel the rush of excitement losing ground against the tiredness that was plaguing him from the last few days. Reluctantly Eragon withdrew his hand from under her tunic, ignoring the small sounds of protest that left her. He pressed lightly against her chest until she released his lips, and Eragon could not help the smile that grew at the sight of her.

Her face was flush, much as he suspected his own was, and the indignation on her face made him chuckle lightly. "Sorry," Eragon whispered, "but there's a real possibility that I might fall asleep."

Arya's green eyes were dark as they peered down at him, and he could feel her heart pounding through her leather tunic. He offered her a smile, which she returned, and Eragon slid his hand up to her face. Gently rubbing her check with a thumb, he said earnestly, "I missed you."

"As did I," she returned, her usual melodic voice no louder than his own. Arya's hands moved gently over his arms, sending fissures of energy coursing through his body.

Despite having fought at her side during the battle, Eragon only now felt as if they had finally reunited. There was so much he wanted to speak with her about, but the draw of sleep was too much for him. It seemed that Arya was likewise tired, leaning forward and adjusting herself until her head was resting on his chest and her body was pressed against his sides.

"I'm sorry I couldn't greet you properly earlier," Eragon eventually murmured, running the hand that he had holding her up and down her back softly, "but I was busy trying to rescue my mate."

Arya's hand, which had been draped over his chest, pinched his side. Letting out a startled yelp, Eragon grasped her hand with his own and wound their fingers together. "I seem to remember a certain Rider collapsing during the battle, again. Luckily, it seems that his mate was there to catch him before he fell. Again."

He could not help the laugh that started to build inside of him, his chest heaving. "I expect this sort of teasing from Saphira or Glenwing, not you!"

She glanced up at him, the corner of her lips rising into a smile. "What did you expect, leaving me with naught but Glenwing's company for weeks? I'm not sure who missed your presence more between the two of us."

The laugh that was building finally escaped him. "It's nice to know that the both of you care."

"I care very much about you," Arya whispered as he continued to chuckle.

Her quite confession made Eragon choke on his own laugh, and he turned wide eyes towards her. She was no longer smiling, her expression serious. Blinking, Eragon took the hand that wasn't already wrapped around her and placed it on her cheek, a warmth spreading throughout him when she nuzzled against his palm.

Making sure to meet her gaze, Eragon whispered back, "I-" His words broke off, before a strong conviction came over him, "I love you, Arya Dröttningu." They spoke as they always did in the elven tongue, so that they knew their words to each other were true.

Arya froze, her expression reminding Eragon of the time he saw a deer caught moments before Saphira descended on the creature. He did not regret his own confession, but as Arya remained still next to him he began to consider that it may have not been the best timing.

Fear that he had spoken wrongly grew strong the longer she was silent, until Eragon could not help but blurt, "I'm sorry. I did not-"

The hand that had pinched his side earlier clamped over his mouth, and Eragon remembered the last time she had done this to him; when he had first voiced his feelings to her, and had similarly taken her off guard.

"No," Arya stated firmly.

All he could do was gape at her. When the corner of her lips rose slightly, Eragon knew that she had similarly remembered. He wanted to speak, but the hand over his mouth and the darkening hue of her emerald eyes prevented him.

Her hand shifted from his mouth, cradling his cheek as he did hers. Arya shook her head slowly, the small smile growing until her teeth flashed at him. "Why do you always insist on surprising me?"

Arya's words reminded Eragon of the flower seed and Fairth he had tucked away in his bags, but he dared not interrupt the moment. "In a good way?"

The blinding smile did not abate, even when she shook her head in exasperation. "Yes, Eragon."

He returned her smile, his confession causing a slight giddiness inside that pushed back the sleep his body demanded. "I did not mean to surprise you," Eragon whispered. "I just wanted to say how I feel. If there something this war has taught me, it is that we cannot expect tomorrow."

His reminder of the earlier battle made her smile wane, but he could see the familiar determination Arya was known for rising in its place. "You are right," Arya nodded against his hand. "Before you left for Ellesméra with Murtagh, I did not know how to describe the feelings you elicited inside me. Ever since we've become mates we've hardly spent a night apart from each other, and it was on that first night you left that I realized what I felt."

Eragon's heart skipped in his chest, a giddy anticipation building inside. He did not say anything when she paused, and he knew then that he would wait forever for her so long as she continued to look at him with that warm expression.

"I love you, Eragon."

Warning: Longish Author's note ahead:

I know Arya didn't kill the Shade here, but I felt that Eragon being able to prevent the forming of another Shade is an important part of his self-journey. He's already failed twice (in his mind) at stopping the creation of a Shade, and I think it was a great opportunity to show how far different he is then his canon counterpart.

Don't worry too much about Arya, she'll have her time to shine. We still have to deal with Thorn and the Brotherhood (which as a reminder Eragon doesn't know about yet) before finally moving on to the final showdown.

One of my theories about why there was even a Shade in Brisingr was to even the field between Arya and Eragon, but here they both are Dragon Riders, and are already mates.

As an aside, one of the big problems of having Galbatorix being so powerful in canon is that it leaves very little room in which Eragon could have potentially won. As such, I'll try my best to justify this Eragon and the final battle without disturbing too much how strong Galbatorix is, but that's still a ways off.

Anyway, thanks for reading and all your reviews! It means a lot that many of you enjoy this series! This concludes this stories equivalent of Brisingr, and now we are in the final stretch!

Ancient Language translations (Old Norse):

Italics represents the Old Norse translation; Bold represents Ancient Language.

Fyrir Neðan – Below Something. Fallen One

Du vættr Bani – The Bane of Spirits: Name of the Brotherhood

Vættr - being, creature; supernatural being, spirit

Bani - death; bane, cause of death, slayer

Skörungr – leader, notable or outstanding person, paragon. Title for Leader of the Riders; given as an honor.

Guliä waíse medh ono, Skörungr - Luck be with you, Leader.