Inheritance Cycle 1. Prologue

**Prologue**

"_Foolishness."_

_~Saphira Bjatrskular, "Queen of the Skies" _

Eragon lay back against Saphira, the great dragon's breath ruffling his lengthening hair.

_You need a haircut,_ she mused absentmindedly, and through their bond, he could see a very tasty-looking deer.

_Saphira, stop thinking about deer. I feel like you're going to eat me._

The dragon sheepishly laid her head by him, _Sorry. I'm just… contemplating the future. Food always helps me think._

_You can go hunt if you wish._

The huntress stretched, nearly throwing Eragon off her flanks as she licked him in apology, careful not to turn him inside out with her razor-edged tongue. Figuratively speaking, and literally.

_It will not be long,_ she promised, throwing herself into the air with a powerful push of her hind legs and a great flap of huge wings.

He sat in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the peace of the forest around him, meditating, trying to find that little strand of serenity inside his tumultuous and pained soul, grief and broken wishes swirling around his chest.

"Eragon?"

_Just "Eragon" again. She's going to drive me insane._

He turned to find the bane of his resolve and heart walking towards him with grace that no other elf could match.

He steeled himself, placing his hand over his chest, bowing respectfully, "Arya Svit-Kona, _atra esterní ono thelduin._"

She returned his gesture, "_Mor'ranr lífa unin hjarta onr_."

"_Un du evarínya ono varda,_" he finished the greeting. "Your heart must trouble you to no end to come seek me out."

She almost smiled.

"No, is it wrong to wish for the company of a person who shares in my pain?"

He bit his lip, indicating that she could sit beside him on the log, poking the fire with a stick.

"I will miss Oromis and Glaedr," the young Dragon Rider murmured. "He was someone I guess I had come to call my very, very stern father."

Arya held back her laughter, "Well placed, Shadeslayer. But it is true. I will… he was what was a father also, a father in place of the one I lost."

Eragon gently reached over to cup her chin, turning her face to look at his, his eyes gazing into his, trying to discern something.

"Arya, do not lie to me. What troubles your heart?"

She pulled out of his touch, her raven-black hair fanning out as she turned away quickly, yet not running away as she was usually prone to do.

_Eragon, I think you have a way of treading on thin ice every moment of your life,_ Saphira warned. _I do not believe it wise for you to try and get through her barriers when your relationship with her is balanced on the tip of a ledge with one leg on, one leg hanging in thin air._

_Easy for the winged one to say, _he teased._ Do not worry. I will not push my suit upon her. I have learned my lesson._

He could sense her nodding with satisfaction, _Very well._

He cut his connection with her right as she roared with delight at sighting a deer, diving down for the kill.

"It is nothing, _Shur'tugal_."

"And there it is again," he said with as much cool as he could manage.

She looked at him with confusion.

"I told you before you change swiftly. One moment I am 'Eragon,' and the next, '_Shur'tugal_.' Arya, I am someone who wishes to call you friend. Please, trust me enough to unburden your heart with me."

She avoided his gaze, her forest-emerald looking down at the ground.

Her attention was diverted by a gentle hand that lighted on her cheek, drawing her gaze to the owner.

"_Weohnata ono atra eka unin_?" he asked softly, his eyes holding nothing but honesty, and for the first time, Arya could see the man Eragon was becoming.

The seventeen year-old farm boy was gone. The seventeen year-old Dragon Rider was gone. The leader of the Dragon Riders, Lord of Vroengard, rising Leader of the Dragon Riders.

And once Galbatorix was lain low in the ruins of his once-elven castle, that is what this young, once human would become.

"_Eina nen ai fricai? Eina fyrir vere eru fricaya?_" she asked softly.

"_Eila fricaya,_" he replied.

Then she broke into tears, the hundred barriers and self-encasing walls she had put around herself and her mind, her heart, her last sanctuary, all falling down to assault Eragon with thousands of emotions and memories, death, pain, torture, failed attempts, wishes and wants, though some she held back.

He pulled her into his arms, though she tensed at first.

"_Eila fricaya,_" he whispered into her pointed ear, his strong, warm embrace the best consolation she had in the world.

Her body relaxed into his welcoming arms, and her tears continued to pour down.

And through it all, her _fricai abr iet hjarta_ held her through it all, non-judgmental, a quiet rock of strength in a flood of insecurities.

And she would rather die than admit it, but she loved his embrace.

* * *

><p>Translation: <em>Atra esterní ono thelduinMor'ranr lífa unin hjarta onr/Un du evarínya ono varda. _– May good fortunes rule over you/Peace live in your heart/And the stars watch over you

_Shur'tugal – _Dragon Rider

_Weohnata ono atra eka unin? – _Will you let me in?

_Eina nen ai fricai? Eina fyrir eru fricaya? – _Only as a friend? Only because we are friends?

_Eila fricaya – _Just friends

_Fricai abr iet hjarta – _Friend of my heart

* * *

><p>AN: Ok, a bit on the fluffy side, but everyone will get over it ^-^ I made up the words eina, eila, and fyrir, all from old norse, like Paolini did. I'm not one of those people who just italicize parts that are in ancient language and then write in English, or bold, and do that. I just don't get it, there's a beauty to every language. If it means I have to make up words as I go and take thirty minutes researching, I will do it to maintain and use the language that good old Mr. Paolini started us off with. And thus ends the prologue to a story called A Shadow of a Thought. :)<p>

**IMPORTANT NOTE: I am changing the name of this story from A Shadow of a Thought to Shattering Prophesies**


	2. Eldrvarya Draumar

**Chapter 1 – **_**Eldrvarya Draumar**_

"_My heart died a while back."_

_~Eragon Shadeslayer, Bromsson, last Free Dragon Rider, Heir Lord of Vroengard_

Eragon shot up in his bed, his fingers already reaching for Brisingr.

He sighed, lying back down before restlessly throwing his legs over his bed's edge, throwing a button-tunic over himself, neglecting to button the front up to try and dry off his sweat.

Saphira slept peacefully despite the fact she had probably seen his dreams. She was always the calmer of the two, even if she was drunk with mead. He quickly kissed her snout before walking into the forest next to the Varden camp, his lengthening gold hair blowing around in the night breeze. It had grown down past his shoulders, and he had no intention of cutting it. It felt rather nice to have the wind blowing through your hair when it was longer, and anyways, it was a pain in the neck—pun intended—to have it cut.

He wasn't surprised to find Arya sitting on a fallen log, her back turned to him, her chin in her hands, her hair a shade of silver as it reflected the light of the moon, giving her a holy-like look, simply adding to her ethereal beauty.

"Have your nights been restless as mine have?" he asked quietly, leaning against a tree.

She leapt up with shock, staring at him.

"Oh… it is you."

He was worried now. He barely could startle Arya, and it was only when she was in deep, deep thought. Or asleep. Even asleep, she could sense him most of the time.

He walked over to her, sitting by her, "What is wrong? Your eyes have grown dim, Arya Dröttningu, is something amiss?"

She shook her head, "It was simply another nightmare. Nothing for you to worry over, _iet fricai._"

"If I am your friend, I will worry about you, whether you wish for my care or not," he said softly, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Arya, you should know that I can tell when you are lying to me. What has gotten into you that you would not notice my presence?"

She shook her head wordlessly, burying her face in her hands, her tearless sorrow making him wish he could share in her pain.

He gently drew her into his embrace, "Arya, tell me of your nightmare."

"Only if you will tell me of yours first, Eragon Shadeslayer."

"You know me too well," he said softly, ever-aware of the soft hair resting against his bare chest.

"It must have been frightening enough to drive you out of your sleep and making you take a walk in the forest."

"I was fighting the king," he whispered. "Murtagh was fighting alongside me, and as were you, but he had already injured you enough to keep you out of the fight. He threw Murtagh into the wall of his throne room. Then I killed him. I stabbed Brisingr through his foul chest. But he had one last trick."

His eyes gazed at her with anguish.

"He cast a spell over you, and his spirit took over yours. How could I fight you, Arya? He killed me using you. Galbatorix died, but he used my one weakness to kill me in the end."

Arya put a finger on his lips before he could keep talking.

"Galbatorix or not, no part of me would ever have the heart to even hold a blade against you even if my own life depended on it. Do you still not know of that truth?"

"Little over a year ago, I was a farm boy living with my uncle and my half brother, who turned out to be more distant of a relative. Little over a year ago, I turned into the last free Dragon Rider. Little over a year ago, the man I called uncle and the man who I considered my father and teacher both died. Little over a year ago, I slaughtered dozens of Urgals and human soldiers, soldiers who, had my fate not been determined, could have been me. A few months ago, my half-brother was stolen, tortured, and enslaved, sent to kill me, a man who had fought alongside him, both of us saving each others' lives too many times to count. Not two months ago, I became more elf than human.

"Little over a year… Little over a year ago, I killed my first man and fought in my first battle. There is not much I cannot believe. Many truths became lies and many lies became truer than what I called fact. Things I could never have imagined have happened before my very eyes. I do not know what I can believe, Arya Dröttningu."

"And yet not six months ago, the first glimmer of hope the Varden had seen since the beginning of the rebellion came to us in the form of a young farm boy who was so innocent and unknowing of the power you held and what you symbolized for us. Not six months ago, that young farm boy slew a Shade, something only two others have managed and lived to tell the tale," she murmured softly.

"Three," he corrected, giving a soft smile. "I remember a certain Elven princess doing the same. Despite my assistance, I'm certain you would have done it with or without my help."

"Point conceded," she relented, a ghost of a smile gracing her fair features. "And yet six months ago, I met someone who taught me to open up my heart again. And for that, Eragon Bromsson, I owe you more than I could ever repay."

Before he could reply, a horn blasted at full volume, the shouts of the army ringing out, maybe a half-mile away.

_Little one, get over here now!_ Saphira roared, mentally and physically, her thundering cry easily heard even from how far they were.

"Tell me of your dream later, princess," he said, his title more endearing than formal.

She nodded as they ran towards the camp, their weapons leaving their sheaths.

General Talon was running past, shouting orders, Eragon grabbing the man by his armor, "General, tell me what is going on!" he ordered, no longer the soft-hearted Rider she had been talking to a mere minute ago.

"A raid by the Empire, sir! The north flank was taken by surprise, the temporary wall we had there was run over, the painless soldiers are back, sir!"

Eragon nodded, Saphira flapping her wings once to slow herself down before landing, her head curling down to him. _We should go there. They may feel no pain but fire can kill them almost as fast as beheading them._

"I will go with you, _Shur'tugal_," Arya said, surprised when he held out a hand to her, clearly expecting her to take it.

He stared, "_Dröttningu_, we must move quickly," he said urgently.

She grasped it as he hauled her up, Saphira taking to the dark sky.

"You will not ask me to stay?"

He gave a small smirk

"Would you listen?"

"No."

He shrugged, "No point in asking you to then, princess."

Saphira gave a grunt of approval, _Hold on, I doubt they can see me in this light. I shall try and surprise them._

_Get close and I'll jump off, Saphira_, Eragon thought to her.

_It is too risky, little one_, Saphira growled, her flanks shuddering as the fire chamber started to boil in preparation for the dragon's breath that would incinerate everything it its path. _I will let you down later._

_Yet I am set. Tell Arya to find me later, bring her to the edge of the battlefield. She knows that I am more accustomed to diving into a battle and figuring out everything then._

_Very well._

The sapphire-hued dragon dove down, her wings curling up against her body as the wind rushed past them, spearing through clouds and air.

The soldiers, both Varden and Empire, looked up as the huge beast opened her wings, swooping over the Empire's side.

Huge, billowing flames erupted out of her mouth, the liquid-like fire draping over the painless soldiers, their eerie laughter sure to haunt both their dreams later. Soon, the laughter was dying out as the flames burned too far and killed them.

"Over there, Saphira!" he called, getting to his feet as he indicated a spot where a large group of the haunting soldiers were rushing a smaller group of Varden swordsmen.

"Eragon, what are you doing?" Arya demanded angrily, getting to her feet, albeit unsteady and wobbly.

"Stay with Saphira, she will take you to the front and help you defend the rest of the camp!" he shouted, diving off his dragon, rolling as he took the impact expertly. Even before he could get up, a sword flashed towards him and he riposted with a heavy smack with the pommel of Brisingr, decapitating the Imperial soldier in his next blow.

Another by him fell, its head split in half from a strong blade stroke, the reason glaring at him furiously.

"Do not every attempt to do something as crazy as that again!" Arya thundered, cutting one's arms off before slashing in a low arc, taking the legs off, grimacing as the… thing laughed, her swipe taking off its head and ending its creepy laughter.

"I have before, you know I will again!" he yelled cheerily, hewing through the crowds of Empire soldiers, using pommel to stun, blade to end, all sorts of disarming—sometimes literally—moves in between.

"Then at least _tell_ me first before leaping off Saphira forty feet above the ground!"

"You did exactly the same without telling _me_!"

"I am elf-kind!"

"I am a Rider!"

He ducked under her blade as she swung, slashing the chest of another soldier before he used a powerful thrust to stab into its neck, the soldier falling without a sound.

"Will you _stop_ being so stubborn?" she asked with exasperation as she leapt five feet in the air, giving him the precious second of extra room he needed to dodge another sword that flashed at him, Arya falling down and cutting the sword arm off at the elbow, finishing it off with a jab into the neck, twisting her blade viciously as she half-severed the head.

"You, Arya Dröttningu, are _just_ as stubborn as I am, if not more!"

He gripped her hand, pulling her out of the way as a horse barreled through the air where she had been standing. He drew a throwing knife out of his arm sheath, throwing it at the rider as he came back for a second pass, striking him square in the forehead. He jerked a few times before falling off his horse to be trampled by running soldiers from both sides. He grabbed the reins, swinging himself on as he held out a hand down to Arya who took it without hesitation. He hauled her light elven self up behind him as she drew a bow she had taken for this battle for one reason or another and started shooting anything that came at them with an evil glint in their eyes. Meanwhile, Eragon tried to tame the horse.

"Forward! No, fool! Horse, listen to me! Move hooves forward, canter, gallop, prance like one of those unicorns, I care not!" he shouted, growling irritably.

Arya quickly snapped some words in Ancient Tongue and the horse sprang forward, crushing a few enemy soldiers underfoot. Or under-hoof.

Silly, he should have remembered horses listened to the sound of Ancient Tongue.

Eragon stormed through the battlefield, the horse rearing back as he pulled back on the reins, a group of officers running to them, Nasuada among them though she wore hastily donned armor, the straps loose and her hair wild. No doubt the raid had stolen her of her much-needed sleep.

"Shadeslayer, Blödhgarm and the other elven spellweavers mobilized the defense for the western line of our camp, they report similar enemies. They say they can hold off long enough for us to finish our battle, they have the advantage of high ground and hills."

"Get me horses!" he shouted. "As many as you can, we can trample them!"

"Riders!" General Talon roared. "Riders, mount your horses! Follow Lord Eragon!"

He was too worried to notice the title "lord."

About fifty horse riders galloped over from the middle of the Varden, saluting sharply to Eragon.

"Sir!"

Talon looked around with a piercing gaze.

"Did the rest of your company go to the Western walls?"

"Yes, sir! I ordered them to help, they have less men there and I was worried so I sent the rest of my regiment in that direction, sir!"

"Very well, you shall take orders from Lord Eragon and will do as he says. Soldiers, rally behind the riders!"

Eragon's voice boomed out in the night, "Riders, grab lances and any other long-range weapons! No bows or crossbows! Pikes, lances, spears, longswords, and strap your sword to your side!"

The riders leapt to his orders, soldiers tossing them various pole weapons as they hurried back, the archers keeping up a covering blanket of arrows to help the Varden soldiers get behind friendly lines.

Twenty more riders thundered in, soldiers tossing them more spears and pole arms.

The leader saluted, "Rider Eragon! The Western Side is secure, milord! Minimum casualties, all the elven spellweavers have survived and are starting precautionary scouting trips through the other sides, milord!"

"Understood, captain! Prepare your men for a charge, use your pole arms to knock them down or stun them, we will run them aground with the horses! Soldiers, behind us, slaughter anything that still moves after we pass! Archers, cease fire at the start of the charge!"

A soldier ran over leading another destrier by the reins, "Milady, Arya!"

Arya accepted the reins, leaping from the stolen horse to the Varden charger, Eragon patting the horse as it saw the soldiers charging at it, unearthly battle cries stilling their blood. Another two volleys from the arrows, and a pile of injured and crippled painless soldiers stumbled towards them. When the third volley took flight, Saphira streaked down from the dark, moonless sky, using a small flame to torch the wooden shafts, the burning projectiles smashing into the sluggish enemies.

He sounded the charge.

The horses neighed as the archers immediately stopped their volleys, the huge beasts galloping at breakneck pace, their hooves kicking up so much dust it was almost impossible to see the men charging behind them.

Much laughter was silenced as they literally tore through the already injured soldiers, their horses doing the most damage as they slaughtered dozens under their mighty, metal clad feet, every step stopping another voice of eerie laughing. A sword tore into his side but he ignored the pain, reeling back on the reins, the horse immediately responding to his gentle tug, prancing back to stamp on the painless soldier's head, crushing it in before leaping after its brother horses.

They passed over the hills , hacking and jabbing relentlessly, the soldiers running after them, beheading the ones that still lived without mercy. Eragon looked up just as the clouds moved a bit, a glimmer of moonlight shining a small light on the immense slaughter the horses and the following soldiers had just created.

And then Eragon saw the regiment of archers.

Without thinking, he sprang onto his feet atop his horse, leaping behind Arya to grab her bow and an arrow, nocking it with one smooth arch of his arm.

"_Jierda_!" he roared, loosing the arrow into the wind.

It struck one enemy arrow.

And then with an impressive explosion of shockwaves, the other arrows shattered, flying every which way, harmlessly clattering off their armor. An arrowhead sheared across his cheek but he refused to wince, refusing to show his enemy weakness. Blood trickled down his smooth-skinned face, but he kept it there.

Arya had shouted another word he didn't have the time to focus on as he shouted at his riders to trample them. Another volley of arrows struck an invisible wall blocked every single projectile, no doubt Arya's making.

Then the riders were upon the archers, and it was over in seconds. Saphira crushed one who had almost gotten away, tossing his dead body in the pile where the most archers had been slain. She padded over, her mind brushing Eragon's in a way he had come to realize was her way of making sure he was fine. She waited as the riders dismounted, tossing the dead soldiers into the pile, Saphira breathing one blast of flame before the whole carnage was aflame, contained by the blood on the grass, mixed in with gore and other things Eragon could live without seeing again. A few of the riders had wounds from the painless soldiers who had gotten too close, three of them dead, a good half with minor injuries. Arya patted the destrier's neck, murmuring some soft words into the horse's flicking ear.

Eragon chuckled, scratching his own horse's neck, "Well, I'm hoping Nasuada won't mind me keeping an enemy horse. You're a good stallion, you have a name?"

The huge steed shook its powerful neck, its mane flying wild as Eragon rubbed the back of its neck.

Then he saw the huge scar on the neck, and he understood that the horse was showing him his name in a way only a horse could.

"That is one magnificent scar you boast," he muttered, running his hand along the jagged, furless line that ran from right jaw to left shoulder. "Your name's Scar, is it not?"

The horse whinnied in satisfaction, leaning down to find some clean grass, unstained by blood, dirt, or mud, ripping it out to chew on it happily.

Eragon smiled.

"Scar it is then."

* * *

><p>They had lost nearly two-hundred men, not as bad as it could have been, but still, the numbers were something he wished would have been lower. Nasuada had gotten a small gash in her left arm but she had brushed it off as nothing, simply washing it with beer before rinsing it in water, tying a clean bandage around it and saying it was fine. Arya was fine, Saphira had said she had accidentally flown a bit too close to her own fire, but they were both alive and mostly unharmed.<p>

He had hidden his wound from all but Saphira who already knew, but she relented to keep it to herself for it was a shallow cut and he had been through much worse. But she had gotten him to treat and bandage it himself under her careful eye. Satisfied, she snorted some affectionate smoke out at him, making him cough and smile before he tied the bandage with finality, pulling a tunic over his well-toned body.

_How he has grown_, she thought to herself as he walked out through the Varden camp, greeting the families he knew by name, kissing their young, awed, and impressionable children's foreheads, saying a soft blessing to them, encouraging the crying widows and their young, whispering quiet, heartfelt words she knew had eased their pain by the small glimmer of hope in their eyes. To think that at first he had been a simple farmer's son or nephew, she always confused human relations. Wife, husband, aunt, nephew, dragons loved to keep it simple. If they had your clan name, they were blood, otherwise, you respected the other dragon lest it be a egg-breaker like Thorn.

Then again, Murtagh was Thorn's rider, and Murtagh was the half-brother of Eragon, so she guessed she would make his death quick and painless if possible.

_You're staring, my dragon-love_, Eragon said, giving her a small smile as he held a sobbing girl, no doubt a relative of a fallen soldier. He murmured something into her ear, the girl nodding tearfully.

_I was just thinking of the day I hatched to find a stubborn, foolish, overly-brave and crazy farm boy staring at me in wonder and horror. Now, somehow, some miracle has turned that boy into a warrior man, chivalrous, handsome, and twice as stubborn and foolish. Did I ever mention I thought your hand looked very appetizing at that moment for some strange reason I cannot recall?_

His mental laughter was beautiful.

_No, but I am glad you did not eat it, Saphira. I have grown fond of having both my hands in the past seventeen years._

_You are almost eighteen, little one, if I am thinking correctly. Your birthday was near the harvest, and it is nearly harvest. Already the farmers go to find workers to hire to help cut their crop and sort it from the weeds._

_As it is. I almost forgot myself._

_Is it not strange that I remember while you, whose birthday it is, forgets?_

_Actually, not really. You were always the first to remind me that I forget many things._

She snorted with laughter, _I will not argue that fact_, she teased, using a wing to reassuringly brush an awestruck child, the boy touching her wing almost reverently. His mother bowed deeply, murmuring some blessings as Saphira swooped her head down in a return bow, graceful and elegant, suited for a dragon of her beauty and stature. Lithely built, she may not be as large as Thorn or Glaedr, but inside her legs and wings and tail, she had nothing but raw muscle and power. Her jaws had proven themselves able of tearing hunks out of walls if needed, though she had repeatedly complained about a toothache before Angela knocked the loose tooth out, a new one soon replacing it. She hadn't tried the same feat after that day.

Eragon found a familiar elf walking beside him, her eyes clearly avoiding his by the way she knelt by the children, talking softly to them, a beautiful smile on her flawless lips.

"Arya Dröttningu, _atra esterní ono thelduin_."

"Eragon, I wish to apologize for my harsh words during the battle," she said softly as she stood up, ignoring his greeting. Her eyes were tentative but she gazed at his chocolate-brown eyes defiantly, every much the warrior princess he had grown to accept as an equal in stubbornness and craziness.

"As do I, I probably should have told you of my plan."

"No, you did not. I am Princess Arya, you are Lord Rider Eragon, we are equals, and thus I shall treat you as one, as should you. Do not give me a formal greeting when a simple smile and 'hello' will suffice. My words were quick and thoughtless, forgive my carelessness."

He smiled warmly, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"Arya Dröttningu, of the many things you are, careless is not one of them. You are forgiven as long as I am."

"Forgiven is one of the many things you always will be to me," she promised, putting an accompanying hand on his left shoulder. Some soldiers had stopped to watch the exchange between the two of their most famed and trusted leaders.

Saphira's warning purr came into his mind and he quickly reassured her he wasn't going to be a fool with a mental smile and shrug. His beloved dragon rumbled with quiet amusement as she lay down on the grass, placing her head in front of a little girl, huge eyes following her as the human child happily patted her snout. She blew a small cloud of smoke at her, thrumming softly. The child laughed, sitting down on one of the dragoness' front feet.

"Then put what was said behind us. Despite the fact you are my only equal in stubbornness," Eragon smirked, rewarded with a small, rare smile and even more precious and scarce, a laugh of her own.

"Bah! Rubbish, you have me for competition, cousin! I truly have no equal when it comes to being stubborn!"

Eragon laughed heartily as he crushed Roran in a strong embrace.

"Alright, Ror, maybe I shall count you among my competitors along with Arya," he smiled. "How is Katrina? The rings still working?"

"As wonderfully as they ever were, which was kind of quiet, but they're both wonderful, Eragon, we love them. I can't thank you enough. And Katrina, by the black heart of Galbatorix, she is happy as a child who got a new toy. But truly, she is good and we're just waiting for the child."

The Rider clapped the man he called brother on his back, "Being my cousin and brother is payment enough. Is there a reason besides the fact you could not stay away from your beloved little cousin that you come to me?"

Roran nodded, "Actually, yes. Nasuada asks for you and Arya to come to her office, I have no idea why, and I never really had the heart to ask. If she ever calls you two to her office, it's about the war, and all of us have heard enough of that word."

Eragon couldn't agree enough. Some soldiers around them murmured in assent.

He shrugged, "I do not know a soul who would not agree with you, cousin. But come, she would not call me if it does not involve dire importance or being stubborn."

"She calls me for the dire stubbornness situations, for I am the lone master of that subject," Roran smirked.

"Yet that dire stubbornness is mostly me," Eragon shot right back, Arya watching the two cousins' playful banter as they walked to the pavilion.

* * *

><p>Arya sat stock still.<p>

Eragon and Roran's joking moods were gone, replaced by dead-seriousness, Eragon scowling with thought and anger, Roran's fingers drumming insistently on the table.

"Roran!" Eragon snapped.

His cousin froze.

"Fingers," the Rider explained, his eyes apologizing for his harsh quip. Roran nodded, shrugging as he drummed his fingers on his knee.

"What do we do? I was hoping one of you would have a good plan," Nasuada said, her voice, for the first time since she had become leader, showing fear.

The situation was grim and mysterious at the same time.

Three supply convoys had been utterly devastated, one Varden, two Imperial. Nothing was left alive. Livestock, guards, nothing. There were huge gashes on the wagons, looking like swords or knives, but too precise and parallel to be swords. The animals and people had not just been killed, they were… _butchered_. One of the remains lay in the ground of the tent, Elva staring at what had been a man.

His whole left arm was missing, half his face torn to shreds by something sharp and something heartless. He had nearly been disemboweled and bits of his insides were hanging through the gash despite Talon's best efforts to try and sew it shut. He said it had not just been ripped, it had been cut out. There was then one clean hole in the neck, a flawless cut through the windpipe. The blanket which they had brought the man back in was soaked with blood.

Saphira wrinkled her snout in distaste.

_Could not be a dragon_, she concluded, her voice said for all to hear in the tent.

"How do you know, Saphira?" Nasuada asked.

Eragon nodded as he started to notice what his bond-dragon had.

"The body," he said as if that explained everything, indicating the corpse. "Despite what you think, it is largely intact. Saphira can crush bones without even trying. She does it by accident. If a dragon pounced on a man like this, as he probably had been, he would have been killed instantly. And the claw hole. It's a claw, not a pole or other knife. Too round, it's perfectly ovular, too perfect. Dragon claws are twice the size. No, if anything, it had to be a bear or a pack of extremely large wolves."

Everyone stared as they took in the careful observations.

Roran walked over to the corpse, gingerly touching the gashes.

"Smooth. Not many swords would be sharp enough to cut this cleanly. Soldiers take them as they go, if they are sharp enough to cut, they are good enough. That is unless the people who attacked were sword-sharpening fanatics. If we're lucky, maybe it is Blödhgarm's children."

No one laughed at his attempt to lighten the heavy air.

"No person did this," Talon said, his dark eyes even darker with the magnitude of the problem he was faced with. "The wagons were turned on their roofs. They were utterly demolished. One was thrown off the road and we found the tracks until we found it upside down nearly a hundred paces away with all the supplies inside. It had to be nearly the weight of thirty men."

_Could the green dragon have hatched?_ Saphira asked privately to Eragon. _It could be small enough to be more precise than me or Thorn._

The possibility paused before his mental scrutiny.

_No. Galbatorix knew when Saphira hatched, Brom knew, and so did Oromis-elda and Glaedr-elda I will guess. We would know if the egg hatched._

_You have a good point, little one. I wish I knew what killed him. It would be a foe worth fighting._

_I would worry that even your strength might not match whatever killed them._

The secret war council was dismissed, no one talking as they returned to their respective tents, Arya and Eragon agreeing to meet later in the forest along with Saphira to discuss what they could not inside the tent.

Saphira and Eragon walked through the forest, Saphira grumbling about how land-walkers were so disadvantaged.

Arya was sitting on a limb, her eyes distant.

"_Dröttningu_, _atra ester-_," he stopped, forcing his bow to halt as he gave a small nod and smile like she had told him to. She returned the favor, though her smile was small and grim.

"Eragon, I must tell you about my dream. Saphira, please listen on through Eragon, but you must fly around and warn us of anything abnormal. I fear those same creatures that killed the supply trains are near."

Saphira hissed with sudden alertness, launching herself into the air, her mind brushing against Eragon's as he let her in, letting her hear through his ears. She had missed some of the beginning, but it was no big loss.

"There was a cliff. A ledge, a single ledge, and I stood upon the edge of it. The forest around me was burning. There were soldiers from the Empire around me. And so I leapt off the edge, prepared to use magic to halt my fall.

"And then… I know not what to call it. It looked like a woman, but the air behind it shimmered in the form of wings. She was beautiful, fair and powerful, her hair fair, her eyes dark with energy. She… I hate to admit it, but she frightened me. She grabbed my arm, and then I saw that the air behind her did not just look like wings, they_ were_ wings, translucent, nearly invisible to the naked eye. One could easily mistake them as a trick of the eye. She brought me down to the ground safely, but then stared at me, her eyes filled with righteous… anger. Somehow rightful fury. 'You failed to protect the one many times, elven princess. We have come to do what you could not do.' Then she left. Flames enveloped my vision, and then… I know not once again. The dream was so uncertain. A man, a man rode something that looked like a dragon, yet it was not a dragon. Too small, hard to see, they blended in the shadows. He flew through the ruins of a great fortress, the gates battered down, huge skeletons lying unmoved from their resting spot. Then I knew. It was Vroengard. Hundreds of Dragon Riders lay slain, the only part of them left being the scales of the dragons, millions of the glittering scales, and bones.

"He landed, the great beast vanishing before my very eyes. And then there my dream—or nightmare—stops. At the fallen gates of the keep of Vroengard."

Saphira wheeled back, landing with a quiet thump.

_Arya, I mean no disrespect, I am touched by the fact you admitted all this to my rider and I. But why does this matter? The creatures killed our convoys, not raised Vroengard from the ruins and declared everyone enemies._

"But that creature he flew on. It had translucent wings, much like the woman's. what more, it was smaller than dragons, maybe two-hundred hands to your three-hundred. And they had extremely sharp talons. They glittered in the moonlight, and they dug into the stone like it was water. Left grooves maybe half a finger deep."

The Rider pair took the news with silence.

Eragon leaned against Saphira, the dragon looking around warily, both of them clearly deep in thought.

"I will travel to Vroengard."

Saphira nodded her agreement.

_By air._

"But…"

Eragon held up his hand.

"No. This is something I must beg and plead you to stay out of, _fricai abr iet hjarta._ Please, if there is ever one thing you would do to me, if there is anything you owe me for, pay it off now and stay behind."

She looked up and saw only grim resolution and knew that if she tried to come, he would physically fight her and no doubt win. There was no way he would let her on this trip. Yet she had to try.

"Eragon, you will need me," she whispered, sounding more like she was trying to convince herself rather than him.

"I will need you at the last battle. Should I fall, I trust you to fight in my stead. My spirit will be with you."

She felt something press into her hands.

She looked down with shock at Brisingr.

He let go of his priceless Rider's sword.

"Eragon, if you cannot—will not take me," she corrected, "then at least take your blade. I will not sleep at all knowing you went into the hell of my dreams without a sword."

"I am a weapon. Tie my hands, shoulders shall kill you. Cut off my arms, my legs shall. Destroy my legs, and then my lips will kill you. Cut out my tongue, my eyes will deaden you. Kill me, and my spirit shall kill the man who slew me. I am a weapon as I am, Arya Dröttningu. And for some strange reason, I feel like I will not need my blade. Farewell. Fair days for you. _Fricai abr iet hjarta._"

"Eragon!"

He was half turned around.

She bit her lip.

"Stay safe," was all she could manage.

A quick smile flashed across his fair features, shown only by the moonlight.

"As should you, Arya Dröttningu. Fair days, and may no battles find you on the wrong end of a sword."

His lips brushed her knuckles, something Nasuada had taught him. It somewhat amused and irritated him when most women nearly swooned when he did that. Courteous as ever, though, he would catch them and help her, unaware of the jealous looks that woman was getting from other noble ladies. Thankfully, Arya was not most women and she bowed, just as courtly and proper as he was.

"Tell no one of my plans. Tell no one of Vroengard. Tell only I have left."

And she smiled.

She brought his knuckles to her lips, and repeated the gesture.

"An elven promise of friendship and loyalty," she whispered. "Fair winds, my friend. Fair winds, sky queen. May fate look fondly down upon your pure souls."

_They always have, dear one_, Saphira said softly in her mind, the powerful voice echoing through the elf's head.

Eragon leapt onto Saphira's back, and with a powerful _whoosh_ of wings, the two were flying away into the moonlit night.

"Whatever god there is, look after them," she murmured, dutifully fighting back tears of desperation.

Then, putting on her naturally stoic face, she strode back to tell Nasuada.

* * *

><p>Translation: <em>Eldrvarya Draumar <em>(title) – Burning Dreams

_Iet fricai – _My friend

_Jierda – _Shatter

_Atra esterní ono thelduin – _May good fortunes rule over you

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><p>Translation notes: well, I do make up words if need come, but I stay true to how Paolini derived his words, from Old Norse, though I switch some letters. I don't really approve of how the language of the ancients, the language of magic, and the language of elves, doesn't really flow that beautifully, at least to me. I wouldn't use so many hard sounds in the middle of a word o.o;; but that's just me, and Paolini made do beautifully, so I won't blame him. Trying to live up to Tolkien's drop-dead gorgeous Elvish is hard. So many people compare LOTR with Eragon, rightfully so, but I think they're both wonderful stories and the authors both are amazing. I will note if the word is made up, as I have done before, so you will know. Disclaimer: everything belongs to Paolini, except the words I make up, and a few things you will soon see ;)<p>

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><p>AN: All I gotta say is that I hope Eragon and Arya were not too OOC… if they were, I'll add in that it has been about month since Brisingr, so their friendship's had time to grow and mature and there's been time for trust to develop, so yeah… :) enjoy? Reviews? Please? ^_^<p>

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><p>RestrainedFreedom– number one, nice name ^-^ and much thanks~ keep reading! :) much appreciated!<p>

Theonewhobreathesfire – thank you, thank you *bows* I promise I'll do my best to make the story worthwhile!

TheCrimson11 – thank youuuu! I'll be posting chapters as quickly as my mortal hands can manage to type and my crazy mind can manage to think of crazier ideas XD


	3. Urorenar abr Adaral

**Chapter 2 – _Urorenar abr Adaral_**

"_One part brave, three parts fool."_

_Brom, Rider of the First Order, slayer of Morzan and his dragon, former rider of Saphira, deceased mentor, father, and teacher of Eragon Shadeslayer_

Nasuada shot to her feet.

"What do you mean Eragon _left_?" she thundered.

Arya waited until the leader of the Varden sat down.

"He left. He left to find the creatures that slaughtered the supply trains."

"By himself?"

The dark and beautiful woman had leapt to her feet—again.

"By the stars, sit down!" Arya snapped.

Nasuada quickly sat down.

"He left with Saphira. They ride to a place that I promised not to reveal, and I know not when he will return."

The Varden's leader pursed her lips, "And what happens if he finds an ambush? Or a trap? Or is in need of help?"

"Then I will know and I will trek to where he is and get him out of whatever trouble he found," Arya said resolutely. "But I will keep my promise and not tell anyone of his whereabouts, for many reasons."

Nasuada sighed, leaning back.

"Stars protect him," she murmured.

"I have said that enough for fifty people," Arya agreed softly.

* * *

><p>They made good time. The usual time for a horseman to get from where the Varden was to the west coast was maybe six days through rugged terrain. Luckily, dragons could avoid those barriers. Unless you counted wind or birds as obstacles.<p>

They had probably traveled two hundred leagues that day, for, indeed, the winds had been fair to them. Without a doubt, they would arrive at Vroengard in perhaps four hours the next day. As they set up camp, or… at least _he_ set up camp, Saphira watching him, refusing to help in fear of accidentally ruining everything with her teeth and claws. Eragon made a ring of stones around some firewood as Saphira spat a little stream of fire at it, instantly torching the fire pit as her rider sat by her side, feeling the warmth of the fire chamber that rested under her left lung, warming her left flank and always keeping it cozily hot and comfortable.

_Good night, Saphira. Get some sleep, I shall keep watch._

_That is hardly fair_, she complained though her huge eyelids were drooping shut.

_Oh, for stars' sake, just sleep_, he smiled, kissing her neck._ You are the one doing all the flying, anyways._

_As you wish, father_, she teased, laying her head by the fire.

* * *

><p>The being watched with idle curiosity.<p>

So this was the one they had taken centuries to figure out his birth place to hunt him down. They were finally within eyeshot of their goal.

He gave a satisfied smile as his friend looked over the man that was so-called "Eragon Shadeslayer," her bright eyes appraising him.

"Whether his killing a Shade is rumor or not, he is _very_ handsome," she smirked.

"I doubt you can steal him away to make love with him with what our job is."

She waved her hand with dismissal, "Our goal has never changed, nor does the fact that he is wonderful to look at change what we must do. Inform our kin and kith that he shall be at Vroengard on the following day. By the speed by that dragoness travels by, I estimate it will take him four to five hours. Be prepared, he is young, but he has slain hundreds of soldiers with nothing but his blade and bare hands."

"Of course. We are nothing _but_ prepared, we have waited five-hundred years for this moment. Nothing shall stand in our way, not even that black-hearted king everyone speaks so ill-like about."

"There are forces greater than that ill-mentioned king, my friend. Now, go, fly swiftly."

Her friend nodded, leaping from the branch, his gloriously-black, leathery wings stretching out to nearly thirty-five hands in wingspan, flying into the darkness towards Vroengard.

* * *

><p>Another ten convoys had been destroyed, similarly dispatched and ruined. None of the supplies were taken save some food and a few of the weapons, for only the best swords and bows were taken with the straightest arrows. Eight Imperial, two Varden. It was executed perfectly, the magicians could tell that they attacked the back of the convoy first, perhaps about two of the strange creatures, drawing the soldiers to the back of the caravan. Then the main force had utterly demolished the front of the train, crushing the survivors between them in a pincer claw move.<p>

Arya grumbled in annoyance as she tried to figure out why the things had destroyed those specific convoys. There had been more convoys, for they always moved in groups of three or four, not half a mile from each other, but they left the other convoys alone, just destroying one before leaving and attacking an entirely different group. It made absolutely no sense.

She knew there was a pattern, there had to be a pattern. Had it been random, the whole convoy group would have been wrecked, not just a convoy line.

She sighed tiredly as Blödhgarm watched her with feral eyes.

"Princess Arya, Lord Eragon would wish for you to rest, not tire yourself needlessly over a puzzle not even the wisest of elves could decipher," the wolf-elf said softly. "Rest, I shall stand guard outside, princess."

"Blödhgarm, Eragon may be in danger because of these creatures, and if I cannot figure out why they are attacking at seemingly random places, it may be the death of him."

"His death will only come about should the fates decide it, my princess, and whether you wish it or not, it will not be blamed upon you for it is what the fates have chosen. They choose their times; we cannot change anything with what we know or what they could have known. Now sleep, before I put a spell over you," the elf smiled.

"So be it, fussy captain of Eragon's Guard."

"Only for the wellbeing of the one my true captain told me to protect with my life."

* * *

><p>Eragon could see the ruins of Vroengard even from his distance. The towers of the old home of the Dragon Riders stretched into the light red-hue of the rising sun. They had woken up early, making their way to the island city-fortress, now uninhabited save the wild animals.<p>

His limbs quivered.

He was about to step into the place where the Dragon Riders of the first order had walked in, talked, laughed, shared stories in, ate in, learned of their powers and trained to become a true Dragon Rider.

He was going to the island he would one day be lord over.

_When did I ever ask for lordship? I would be happy enough to be farming with Garrow and Roran back at the foot of the Spine._

_Eragon, you never asked to be given a dragon egg. I never asked to be born. I never asked to have to fight my own treacherous kin. You never asked to fall in love with a beautiful elven princess, and yet you again, never asked to become a beacon of hope to a cause that was near-about hopeless. Yet all this has happened, my little one. And it is simply your job to overcome all these obstacles and become that Lord King of Vroengard._

_Some days, Saphira, I wish for all of this to be a dream, save you. Had you been spirited away by Arya to an elf, perhaps you would have hatched for him or her, and maybe he or her would have saved Arya from Helgrind, and perhaps she would have fallen in love with that elf, had it been a man._

_Yet, Eragon, I came to my true rider. And never doubt that, for fate knows what it is doing when it chooses its champions. 'It may be cruel, yes, it usually is, but never a fool,' Glaedr always told me._

_So is that what I am? A champion of fate?_

_No, my Eragon, you are not. You are _the_ champion of fate. My beloved rider._

* * *

><p>He looked up from the spire, his eagle-like vision catching sight of the dragon and the figure seated atop the great beast.<p>

"Prepare to welcome the Rider, sister."

The woman next to him nodded, running down the stairs.

* * *

><p>Eragon stepped down on the ground reverently. Though the marble paths were broken, shattered, charred, the huge skeletons of dragons around them, the grass dying, and the weeds growing up between the shattered stone paths, it was still a marvelous sight.<p>

The wall on the outer edge of the island was at least five houses high, the gates splintered and destroyed, as were the other five gates. One part of the wall, as he had seen from above the city, stretched out into the water, reaching a group of huge rock pillars that stretched nearly thirty or forty houses high, watch towers built into the tops of those pillars, a titanic gate built in the water to allow at least five massive war galleys through at a time. Other gates were built along the wall, that lay at least ten houses, which was about fifteen hands for each house, above the water. The walls were made of white stone, still shining proudly, defiant in defeat and abandonment. It showed no sign of weathering, even the seaweed did not cling to the walls in the crystal-clear water. The gates, they figured out, were made of steel, with a layer of copper coated over it, perhaps a fingerbreadth thick, and then covered with silver, for silver did not change in water. It would be folly to try and attack the gates had soldiers been guarding it from above. Overall, it was truly a sight, from the city came two, league-long walls, protecting at least one-tenth of the entire western coast. Had soldiers been guarding there, the walls stocked with weaponry and men, the city milling with farmers, civilians, soldiers, Riders and Dragons, it would have been awe-inspiring.

Now, he strode through the empty streets, rats and other small animals scurrying away as the Saphira set foot on the ground, probably the first dragon to do so since the fall.

A quiet click of metal.

His sword flashed out as Eragon's elven eyes raked the gigantic courtyard. Saphira crouched, her predator's snarl scaring the small animals even farther away. Her wings created a circular shield around them, teeth bared ferociously.

"Welcome, Eragon Shadeslayer. We have heard much of you."

Suddenly, the walls of the courtyard were full of archers, arrows nocked and strings pulled back, all dressed in black cloaks, the air strangely distorted behind them.

A young woman walked out from the keep of Vroengard, gently pushing the bones of a long-dead dragon aside with her hands, murmuring something quietly as she straightened.

"Give your oath not to harm us until I have finished talking, Rider. The archers do not wish to shoot, and I do not wish to harm you," she said, beautiful, nearly-black eyes looking at him, holding his gaze unflinchingly.

He could see that her eyes were a really dark shade of blue, almost to the point where her irises were black, but in the light, he could see hints of deep sapphire glinting in the sun's rays. Other than that, he could clearly see her black pupils, a strange ring of white around it, looking as if her eyes were a remake of an eclipse, her pupil hiding the sun behind its darkness, the sun's light still spearing the shadows around the moon.

She was beautiful. Utterly, stunningly beautiful. Her mere presence called out to him, to take her as his, but he pushed the urges away.

Contrasting to her dark eyes, she had pale, nearly-silver hair, wearing a white gown that accented her lithe, well-curved body, though it was not curvaceous enough to be a hindrance in battle, it still could distract any average man. Eragon was not an average man, his eyes betraying none of his observations as his sharp, piercing, smooth, milky-brown eyes bored through her gaze.

"Saphira, do not harm them."

The dragon growled.

_This is better not be because of your childish infatuations with pretty women, dear one_, she warned mentally.

"Please."

_She speaks the truth. I see it in her eyes_, he added.

_All I see are a pair of very strange, alluring, and beautiful eyes. But I shall listen. This time._

She hesitantly lowered her wings, her teeth still bared as she somewhat relaxed. Eragon stopped right before he sheathed his sword.

"And you, stranger?"

"I told you, I wish no harm to you or your dragon. _E__ka malabra ono un onr __skulblaka __né haina_."

His borrowed sword slid into its scabbard with a deadly hiss of metal.

"So speak, woman, so I may slaughter your archers when you finish."

* * *

><p>Translation: <em>Urorenar abr Adaral <em>(title) – Ruins of Time

_Eka malabra ono un onr skulblaka né haina – _I mean you and your dragon no harm

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><p>TN: OKKKK, <em>urorenar<em>, and _adaral_ are words I made upp~

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><p>AN: mwahahahahahaha~ ^-^ now, maybe I should leave this story alone for a few days and make you guys worry about Eragon and Saphira. XD jkk, I'll post the next chapter in the same day this one comes up. I think.<p> 


	4. Atra onr Gata Waíse Vardaí

**Chapter 3 – _Atra onr Gata Waíse Vardaí_**

"_Eragon?"_

"_Yes, Arya?"_

"_Have you ever wondered about death?"_

"_Every day."_

"_What do you think of it?"_

"_I find it strangely welcoming."_

_~Eragon Shadeslayer (first speaker) and Arya Dröttningu (second speaker)_

Eragon sat across from the woman, watching her just as intensely as she was him.

"So speak," he said curtly.

She pursed her full, rosy-red lips.

"I know not where to begin."

"Who are you would be a nice place to begin, and then after that, how did you know I was coming here."

She indicated the black-cloaked men and women sitting in various places around the huge dining room, "We are the Order of the Remnant, for that is what we are, a remnant of the past, undying, desperate, and bound by loyalty to stay in the lands where we are hunted. There is a reason Vroengard is said to be haunted."

Saphira growled.

The woman raised her hands in a placating manner, "Peace, Saphira Bjatrskular, I hold true to my word, I do not wish to bring any harm to you or your Rider. My name is Calayn Sion'vakana, one of the five leaders of the Order. And we, by a vow our ancestors swore at the beginning of eternity to the Stars, are bound to you, Eragon Shadeslayer. Our swords, our magic, and our lives are yours."

She got off her chair, kneeling in front of him on both knees, her head bowing low.

Eragon glanced at Saphira who was staring at the woman with confusion.

_She has wings_, Saphira said softly.

_What? I see no wings_, Eragon muttered, resisting the urge to squint his eyes.

_They are transparent, the veins very fine and they look like mere distortions of air, yet they are wings, I can see them._

_Let me see._

Her vision quickly overlapped his eyes like a monocle, and he could see.

Large, transparent wings were folded up against her back, the skeleton of it also as clear as the cleanest glass, yet still having an air of sturdiness.

"Why do you bow to me?"

The others walked over, standing behind the woman, also kneeling.

She looked up with confusion written on her beautiful features, "My lord, are you not the Lord Rider now that Lord Rider Vrael has fallen and Galbatorix is nothing but a black-hearted traitor? Only the eldest, true rider, can hold the title Lord Rider among my people."

"I am the second eldest, Murtagh, my half brother, is my senior in years."

She nodded, "Yes, but you have had your dragon for longer, which makes you the Lord Rider to us. Not a mere child who only defeated you through the use of captive dragon souls."

"I consider Murtagh a brother and an ally, merely enslaved against his will."

She cocked her head with confusion, much like a bird though it held the elegance of grace and of unearth-like qualities.

"Why do you defend an enemy?"

He gave her a look that brooked no argument, "For that enemy is bound by his true name and cannot escape lest Galbatorix die. For truth, he is my half-brother, but never my enemy. I see that, now, though once I did not."

She gave a slight nod, "I shall not question your judgment, my lord."

"Do not call me that."

"But that is what you are, my lord," she said stubbornly.

_I think it has something to do with their vow_, Saphira said mentally, watching the expectant beings with her large, feral eyes.

Eragon crossed the space between them, taking her hands and pulling her up to her feet, "What is your vow, my friend?"

"Our kin and kith swore an oath with the stars of night sky and the moon standing as our witness. We vowed to protect the Lord Rider and obey every command he or she gives, whatever it comes to, dishonor, disgrace, death, exile, defilation, being cursed, and even being called traitors. We have kept that vow, and we shall keep it until we die and then our children will follow in our footsteps."

"Then answer this: what are you."

She looked up at his eyes, fear flitting in those dark irises.

"We are dreamwraiths."

Saphira roared furiously, her huge wings unfurling, nearly spanning the width of the ballroom as she bared her fangs at the dreamwraiths who quickly backed away.

_Eragon, dreamwraiths! Glaedr said they betrayed the Riders and they slaughtered almost twenty promising Dragon Riders, dragon and their bond-partner! They're traitors, murderers!_ she hissed. _They were hunted an exiled, slaughtered for their treachery! They deserve death, _death_!_

Eragon raised his hand to calm his dragoness, _Saphira, be calm. They have not tried hurting us yet, I wish to know why they did it._

_It is foolishness! They will try to kill you!_

_Then let me be the fool, my love._

Saphira grudgingly listened, warily watching them as Eragon looked down at Calayn.

"Explain why my dragon says her former teacher told her that the dreamwraiths killed some twenty Dragon Riders and were declared traitors."

She bowed her head, avoiding his piercing gaze.

"I was not alive then. None of us were. Our grand-sires obeyed the command of Lord Rider Galath. He was a suspicious man, and a few weeks before his death, he ordered the murder of eighteen Dragon Riders he thought were planning "rebellion" against his regime. Our forebears could not disobey the Lord Rider. And for our undying loyalty and our vow, we were hunted, killed, exiled, and called traitors. Is that not what we vowed?"

_Does it make sense to you?_

Saphira growled, _Sadly, yes. But still, they killed eighteen of my kin._

_On the order of an insane Lord Rider._

_Death is death._

_My love, they retrieved retribution._

The dragoness relaxed, her talons still clawing the ground as she watched the dreamwraiths with eyes that held their deaths.

Calayn looked up with shock as Saphira lay back down on her belly, her tail curling somewhat around Eragon's feet, brushing the dreamwraith's boots.

"You will not… not kill us?" she asked softly.

"It was not by their own will that your sires killed those Dragon Riders, even my dragon accepts that, albeit reluctant."

Saphira snorted smoke out of her nostrils.

"And anyways, had they done it by their free will, I would not blame you for a crime committed by your fathers and grand-fathers. It is not fair."

She fell to her knees, "Lord Rider…"

Saphira was laughing mentally though her outer features remained calm and composed. _When you were young and naïve, you worried about not having a wife. Now you have women throwing themselves at your feet_, the dragoness roared with laughter.

Eragon forced down his blush, _It is not for that reason she falls to her knees, Saphira. It is because I have shown her mercy._

_Ha! Hahaha!_ Saphira thrummed, her tail lightly tapping the ground.

He sighed, ignoring his amused dragoness as he knelt in front of Calayn, catching her gaze.

"You are bound to me by a vow not made by you. Is it possible to release you from the vow?"

"Not unless we were to die, my lord. The bond between you and my kin and kith has already been confirmed by the stars, should we betray that vow and leave you without your order, we would die."

_Saphira, please pay attention. She may be beautiful, but I would rather not think of anything but the war right now._

The dragoness craned her neck around, looking at Calayn, _Of course, little one. From what I can tell, she has good weaponry. But the punishment for leaving you without your word is somewhat harsh, no?_

_Just a little_, he said blandly, giving her a look that showed her his sarcasm.

"Then I shall make your enslavement as light-yoked as possible."

"My lord, I thank you for your kindness, but our yoke will always be heavy for our worry for you is our heaviest burden."

He looked at her, his eyes breaking through the veil of her stoic face.

"I believe that is a lie. Here is the single order you _must_ follow. There is no leeway to his order. You are to voice your own opinions to me as if I was a friend, not your lord. You are to not fear any punishment from me, you are not to try and soften your words, whether they are meant for good or ill. From now on, consider me among your ranks, a simple friend and brother-in-arms."

Dead silence

_I think you surprised them, Eragon._

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

_Just maybe, my beautifully obvious dragoness._

"M-my… my lord, but…" Calayn stammered.

He gave a soft smile, "Did I not just say there is no leeway? What do you wish to say, Calayn."

She bit her lip.

He touched her shoulders with a hand, calloused and strong.

"It matters not, my lord."

He gave a slight nod.

"You do not like the Lord Riders."

"My lord, I did not ever say that!" she exclaimed, blushing profusely.

"And yet I know you do not. Why is that, Calayn? For I will promise I will try never to become one of those Lord Riders."

She shook her head, "It is nothing, my lord."

A man stepped forward, piercing navy-blue eyes looking up at Eragon, for Eragon had grown slightly over-average in the last month or so.

"Our mother was bedded against her will by the last Lord Rider."

"Vrael?" Eragon asked, shock evident in his voice.

"No, my lord, Vrael was a close friend of the dreamwraiths, and we still mourn his death to this day. The Lord Rider was an older Dragon Rider, and though Vrael was more powerful in all aspects, our loyalty went to the Rider who had their dragon the longest. That was the Rider named Alren. I thank Galbatorix for one thing only and that is that he killed the man who defiled our mother."

Calayn was avoiding his gaze again, her head turned to the side.

"I see."

No fear was in the man's eyes.

"You may slay me if you wish, Lord Rider, for being so defiant. But that is why my sister, and I, and many of those here do not like the Lord Riders. Many of them were arrogant. And we do not relish the fact that we have to serve one in our lifetimes."

Eragon rose to his feet, walking over to the dreamwraith who coldly watched the man that could easily be his killer.

"I thank you, brother of Calayn. What is your name?"

"Kalyn, Kalyn Sion'vakana, meaning Ever-awake in our tongue."

He left out Eragon's title, clearly unafraid.

Eragon turned to the rest of the dreamwraiths who watched him with silence.

"That is what I wish from all of you. Speak your will, for those who speak the truth are my friends, those who try to soften the words that they think will anger me will end up angering me more. Kalyn, I promise I would never do anything of the like, for I have already had my heart caught and ensnared by one that is almost unattainable. You have my word that I would never take advantage of any of your kith, nor will anyone else have I a word in it._ Vel eïnradhin_."

The dreamwraith was taken aback.

Then he fell to his knees, "My lord, my life is yours."

Eragon held out a hand as Kalyn stared at it as if it was a foreign weapon that could blow up in his hands at any second.

"No, Kalyn, your life is yours to live."

* * *

><p>Calayn and her large band, maybe fifty dreamwraiths, had meager belongings, a few blades, weaponry, some keepsakes given to them by their parents. Apparently when the Lord Rider the dreamwraith was bound to died, they would begin to fade until they, too, died. It could take hours, it could take months, but they would die, unless the Lord Rider gave the title to the next, correct Dragon Rider before his death, therefore maintaining the bond between Lord Rider and dreamwraith.<p>

"We have had attacks on supply convoys that we have found, all shattered and ruined. Was that the doing of your kin and kith?" Eragon asked as he rode upon a horse beside Calayn, Kalyn on his other side, the long procession of horse-riding dreamwraiths followed close behind.

"It was a group from my clan, yes. Kalyn looked over those attacks. Did you take the supplies back to the Varden?"

"Yes, but why did you attack Varden convoys?"

The dreamwraith woman indicated the general direction of some place they couldn't see, "They were traitors, bought out by Imperial soldiers. Kalyn found the journal of one of the convoy captain, and it listed the traitor convoys, so I had the soldiers slain."

"You are sure they were all bought out?"

"I am sure. Do you not think one of the innocent soldiers would have ran away to the Varden to warn them?"

_It makes sense_, Saphira said, flying high above them, circling lazily.

"But other than that, why did it look like a young dragon did the slaughtering?"

"We have two forms, my lord."

"Eragon," the Dragon Rider corrected.

"Eragon," Calayn said, blushing slightly. "My apologies, I will never get used to calling you something other than 'my lord' or 'Lord Rider.' I doubt the others will, either."

"I certainly will not," Kalyn chuckled.

Calayn grinned at her brother, "Anyways, we have two forms, this form, which, in our tongue, we call _aven havïr_. The innocent."

"You seem anything but that," Eragon smirked.

She gave a mischievous smile, "Should I prove that?"

"No, no, I think I shall be fine," the Dragon Rider laughed.

"Anyways, the other one we call _aven ma'ru_. The kill."

They rode in silence for a while.

"How… fitting," Eragon said. "Is that your dragon-like form?"

_Arya's dream…_

Kalyn leapt off his horse, and with a pop of displaced air, a huge, dragon flew into the air, a dull gray-black, wordlessly answering his question.

Just then, a dreamwraith thundered out of the trees, breathing heavily as he bowed deeply, his horse shaking itself as leaves fell out of its mane, "My lord! My lord, there are Imperial soldiers, at least two platoons, my lord!" he shouted hoarsely. "I saw only swords, but I swear I saw archers in the back, Lord Rider!"

Kalyn landed, his wings shrinking as his form warped and seemed like quicksilver for a bit before a man stood in his place.

"Follow in the back, regain your breath!" Eragon ordered, urging his horse into a gallop. "Use wards, they may have archers!"

The other dreamwraiths spurred their horses as they charged after their leader.

Just as the dreamwraith had said, a league or so away, they met up with about two platoons of the Empire's elite soldiers, clearly waiting for them.

_They have about twenty archers in the back, Eragon_, Saphira warned, too high for them to see her, flying beyond the clouds.

_Deal with them, attack from the back. I shall attack when you do._

_Agreed. You _have_ learned something from me after all_, she teased.

_Me? Learn from you? Bah_, he smiled.

A tiny dot swirled in the air, going south, opposite the enemy troops as they watched the riders assemble at the edge of the forest, just out of arrow range.

"My lord?" Calayn asked.

"Wait. Saphira shall rid us of the archers and then we can attack. Still, keep your wards up, they may accidentally loose an arrow when she kills them."

That dot grew larger until Saphira could clearly be seen, the soldiers shifting nervously, unaware of death flying towards them in the incarnation of a dragon.

"Charge!"

The horses leapt down the hill right as Saphira crashed into the back, her tail, wing, talons, and teeth tearing the archers apart and any other soldier unlucky enough to be near the powerful dragoness. The horses quickly closed the five-hundred paces or so between them and the soldiers, and it was over in seconds. Not a single dreamwraith was killed, though a few had minor cuts from the desperate swordsmen who did not expect the last Varden Dragon Rider to be with the riders.

Eragon noticed Calayn quickly bind a wound, "Are you alright?"

She looked up at him with confusion.

"Your leg, is it hurt badly?"

She glanced at him, and then back at him, her confusion even greater.

"You ask in sincerity…" she said as if that was unbelievable.

Saphira landed, giving the dreamwraith a confused look, _Of course he asks in truth and good will, he always does._

"No Lord Rider has cared about us enough to ask that," she explained softly.

"Can your magic not heal it?"

"We do not use the Ancient Tongue. We can speak it, but our vow keeps us from coaxing magic from those words. It takes too much strength to heal but an arrow wound from the way we heal, yet many of the spells that weaken the strongest elf we may use without tiring ourselves. It is a fair trade, no?"

He unwrapped her leg's binding, gently probing the wound.

"_Waíse heíll_," he murmured softly, bright mist flowing from his hand into her leg, the somewhat-deep cut closing up without a trace. "Do not hesitate to ask me to heal you."

"I always will," she said, giving a self-conscious smile. "Thank you, my lord."

"Eragon."

"You may ask me to call you that, but to me, you are always my lord."

"Only because of a vow, Calayn."

She took his hand, "Even without the vow, I would call you my lord and be proud of it. You are different than the others, and for that, I respect you and I believe I will come to accept you as a friend. Would it be improper to say that no oath binds me to you now?"

"It is your choice, Calayn."

"Then no vow made by my ancient sires bind me to you. It is by my own free will that I shall follow you, to the end."

The dreamwraiths had all stopped to watch the two clasp arms, their horses unmoving as their riders stayed silent for a little.

"Should that be your choice, as long as I live, I shall protect you to the best of my ability. No prison shall stop me from trying to get to you, this I swear."

_This may be a foolish move, Eragon. You have just met her._

_Foolishness or not, she has sworn to follow me to the end. I trust her._

_As do I, Eragon._

_Then may our paths be guarded from treachery, for that is the last thing I wish from Calayn._

_Why is that? Another infatuation?_ Saphira teased playfully.

_No._

_Then why do you wish for her to stay beside you?_

Eragon watched Calayn's strong-willed gaze hold his, her silent approval meaning more than any others', save maybe Saphira and Arya.

_I think I have met someone who shares my view of the world. It is not every day you meet someone else who is bound to destiny with cords that were given to you before your birth._

* * *

><p>Translation: <em>Atra onr Gata <em>_w__aíse Vardaí_(title) – May your Path be Guarded

_Vel __eïnradhin__ – _Upon my word

_Aven havïr _(dreamwraith tongue) _– _The innocent

_Aven ma'ru _(dreamwraith tongue) _– _The kill

_Waíse heíll – _Be healed

Calayn Sion'vakana – Calayn (variation of name Gailé, meaning laugh or laughter) Sion'vakana (_sion_ meaning ever, _vakana_ meaning awake)

* * *

><p>TN: my first use of that language… please, no one copy? o.o;; lol, I made it as an elvish language and I have perhaps… one-thousand words? its pretty concise and I can make practically any sentence with what I have… and if I don't have a word, I can take thirty seconds of my time to make a new one XDXD anyways, I somehow made the title without having to create my own words, but all of the dreamwraiths' names are made up by me, somewhat based on their language, and the dreamwraith tongue bits are also mine, everything else save my own characters, my made up bits, and the dreamwraiths belong to Paolini ^-^<p>

* * *

><p>AN: well, say hello to my dreamwraiths~ they're also an important part in my own writing, so… yeah. You can base other things off them, but you'll see that they're a lot stronger than then simple dragon-like creatures that can use magic and can turn into human-like beings. I'm sorry if I stretched the extent of how much Eragon and Calayn quickly began to trust and appreciate each other… and for you ExA people, trust me, in the end, Calayn won't get in the way, promise.<p>

OOH, and… yeah, for those who have noticed, I did somewhat base the dreamwraiths off the Mord-Sith of the Sword of Truth series by Terry Goodkind, which, in all aspects, is an amazing series of books, though the TV show (Legend of the Seeker) is not much like the book save the characters, alliances, and such. Main plot, maybe… but otherwise—I'm getting off topic. Anyways, the dreamwraiths are somewhat based off the Mord-Sith, who are so freaking badass. So. Freaking. Badass. It's not even funny. Terry Goodkind is a genius and a brilliant writer (who looks like a hippie.) BUT ANYWAYS, so that's my little explanation of how the dreamwraiths came to be ^-^

Mord-Sith – An all-woman group of people who were tortured, turned into killers who are nearly heartless, have their hair in a braid for the most part, carry two red rods that apparently cause a lot of pain. Bound to the Lord Rahl, which in some way, is like the Lord Rider. They, like all other D'Harans, can feel the presence of the Lord Rahl if they gave their loyalty to him and swore their vows to him. They wear either brown or red leather, red when they're fighting, brown otherwise. And yeah. They kick ass. LOL XD oh, and you can't really use magic against them.


	5. Hljödhr Oroya

**Chapter 4 – **_**H**__**ljödhr**__** Oroya**_

"_I fear many things, Arya. I shall not lie, for one of those things is losing you."_

"_Eragon…"_

"_No… I know, do not reject me again, for I do not mean it like that. Losing you would be losing someone I hold dear for she has stood up with me many times in my defense and I have grown fond of her company. I would miss you dearly, but I know it would not blind me into suicidal rage. I would just feel the pain from losing you for all eternity."_

"_Then, Eragon, I shall no longer keep my affection away from you. For without a lie, I have grown to love your company and I now enjoy our conversations. You are one of the few that truly understand me."_

"_So friends?"_

"_Friends."_

_~Eragon Shadeslayer (first speaker) and Arya Dröttningu (second speaker)_

Arya shot up from her bed as a horn sounded from the lookout.

"Rider Eragon returns! Open the barricade, it is Rider Eragon!"

She swiftly pulled on her boots and threw a cloak over her leather tunic, tightening the laces across her chest that held the tunic together as she ran outside, a large group of soldiers already there. When they saw her, they parted in front of her as the wooden walls, reinforced with steel bars and iron bolts, was pulled open, a large group of riders galloping in. Eragon gave her a small smile as the soldiers made a huge path for him, bowing in respect, the elves among them giving him the traditional hand gesture and bow, murmuring soft blessings.

Saphira landed, ruffling her wings, the scales clacking with deadly strength as the dragon nibbled at a wing, pulling a squirrel off before tossing the brave animal away. A few soldiers laughed good-naturedly as the little nut-collector scampered off.

_The little fool thought he could hitch a ride on me_, the dragoness huffed.

Eragon leapt off his horse, bowing, gallantly as ever.

"Princess Arya," he said, using her title quietly so no others could hear.

She gripped his shirt's collar and pulled him into an embrace, expertly hiding her smile behind a stoic, convincing scowl.

"Did you purposefully take ten days to scare me? For if you did, I will slap you as hard as my immortal hand can."

He laughed, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles, "No, my riders and I were attacked multiple times by Imperial troops and we disposed of them. Any more attacks on the supply trains?"

"Only Imperial ones."

"Then there are no more traitors," Eragon said, his eyes quickly glancing at her, giving her a look that said he would explain everything soon. "I must talk to Nasuada."

"Of course."

She reached to the belt she had hastily strapped around her waist, unclasping Brisingr.

"You may want this back," she said, handing it to him.

He smiled, accepting his Rider sword with a little bow of his head.

"Jörmundur, get my riders a place apart from the rest of the camp, they prefer the shelter of the trees, give them food, water, and tents! Give them food for the horses, too, those powerful steeds have had a long ride."

The man saluted, "Yes, rider!"

"Calayn, Kalyn, with me," he said as the front two riders leapt off, one a man, the other a woman.

Arya could see a distinct resemblance and judging by the similarity of their names, she decided they were probably siblings or somehow related. The woman was… more beautiful than any elf, probably more than herself and her mother put together. Long-legged, slender and lithe, yet still having an aura of strength and a warrior likeness, she was clearly skilled with the many blades she had sheathed at various places, belt, thighs, biceps, and probably her boots too. Nearly-black eyes surrounded a white, spiked ring that surrounded her pupil, beautiful, exotic, and very strange. Her supposed-brother did not have the same spiked area around his pupil, but he too, was very attractive and well-built, though maybe not as handsome as Eragon.

She would kill anyone who told the Dragon Rider that she had admitted he was handsome.

They both bowed at the waist, Arya inclining her head respectfully.

"Arya, this is Calayn and her brother Kalyn."

_I shall explain everything later. Nasuada needs to hear this also._

_I believe you_, she smiled.

"Welcome to the Varden camp, Calayn and Kalyn. I am Arya of the elves."

"_Princess_ Arya," Eragon corrected. "Daughter of Queen Islanzadí. But do not make the mistake of telling the common soldier, they would be even more frightened."

"My lord has told us much about you," Calayn said, smiling beautifully. "Mostly about how many times you saved him and then scolded him for being so foolish."

Arya gave Eragon an exasperated look. He shrugged.

"I have saved him a great number of times, and scolded him twice as many times, if not more," she said. "Come, Nasuada would be pleased to meet Eragon's friends. Any friend of Eragon is someone I automatically trust."

Right when they entered her pavilion, Nasuada was on her feet, running over to Eragon to quickly look him over, embracing him before looking him over again.

"No injuries?"

Her voice was skeptical and Arya bit back her laughter.

_Curses, Eragon, you have made me a soft-hearted animal-hugger._

He choked, covering it up with a polite cough.

"No, I came out unscathed magically," he smiled. "Somehow. Miracles do happen, I suppose."

"Either that or I took all the hits for you," Kalyn said, ruefully rubbing his arm where a healed scar was left from what would have been a large cut.

Eragon looked sheepish, "Sorry, Kalyn."

"It is nothing, my lord, at least you are alive," the man said cheerily, Arya putting him on her "like" list. If a man could take a wound and talk about it cheerfully, he was worth talking to.

The Dragon Rider motioned for everyone to sit before warding the tent, making sure no one outside heard.

"Nasuada, this is Calayn Sion'vakana and her brother, Kalyn. They are part of the groups that destroyed the supply convoys."

"Oh! Eragon, the Varden ones are-…"

"Traitor supply convoys? Yes. That's why Calayn ordered them to be destroyed."

Dead silence.

"How did you know?" Nasuada asked.

The beautiful woman glanced at Eragon, clearly waiting for permission to talk. He waved his hand, urging her to explain.

"My kin and kith know the hearts of a traitor. We can see auras of people, and traitors have a certain quality that is too hard to explain, but we also had spies in Belatona. We heard that the captain of the soldiers there had bribed a few trains, so we kept a close eye on the Varden trains and destroyed the traitorous ones. We left the Imperial ones for your use."

"You are not elf-kind?" Arya asked, confusion flitting in her electric-green eyes.

The woman hesitated, and Eragon held up his hand.

"They are dreamwraiths."

Arya's hand shot to her sword hilt, but Eragon's was already there, strong, gentle, but unyielding fingers winding around her hand.

"Arya, let us explain."

"They betrayed the Riders," she hissed. "What is there to explain?"

The dreamwraith named Kalyn now joined in the conversation.

"Our grand-sires were under the orders of Lord Rider Galath. He was a suspicious man, and he told our ancestors to kill eighteen Dragon Riders for fear they were part of an 'uprising' against his rule. It was not by their free will they did this."

"And why is that?" Arya demanded furiously.

Eragon's calm, gentle voice swiftly quelled her anger.

"Arya, that is because they gave their vow to the stars and moon that they would serve the Lord Rider no matter what the Lord Rider says to do, and no matter what the cost."

Arya glanced at his milky-brown eyes, seeing nothing but truth and sincerity.

"So what? What would make me think they will not follow the orders of the Lord Rider, who is most likely elsewhere, and kill you?"

"Because he _is_ the Lord Rider, Princess Arya," Calayn said.

It all came together in her mind.

How they had followed him without any hesitation, obeying his command, called him "my lord," it all made sense now.

"Oh," was all she could manage.

Nasuada was quietly mulling over their words in her seat.

"So the dreamwraiths will fight for the Varden?"

"For as long as Eragon lives, he commands me and my kin," Calayn said with finality. "No matter what he says."

Eragon gave a sheepish smile.

"He tried to dissuade us from treating him differently and more casually than the other Lord Riders, but I doubt anyone will. He has our respect," Kalyn explained. "If he fights for the Varden, you and your allies have the word of the dreamwraiths that we shall fight alongside you and the Lord Rider."

Calayn gave the leader of the Varden a hard stare.

Arya noticed how Eragon gently laid a hand on his friend's shoulder, her gaze flitting to him before returning to Nasuada.

"And to add to my brother's word, I do hope you never have to fight against any of my kin or kith."

"So you _are_ the Lord Rider," Arya said softly as they walked through the Varden side-by-side, lapsing into a comfortable pace.

"Apparently," he said, raking his fingers through his shoulder-length golden hair. "I never expected it."

"Destiny does not choose the prepared or expectant for the most part," she reminded.

He chuckled, "Life would be too easy if it did, would it not?"

"That it would."

Silence hung between them for a few moments.

"So what can they do?"

Eragon glanced at her before looking back up ahead.

"Your dream. Did you see their wings?"

Arya was too shocked to answer for a while, her eyes catching his as she looked at him with surprise.

"They are…"

He nodded.

"The beings in your dream."

He held up a finger, "Two forms, one is human, one is somewhat dragon-like. They have wings. They have sharp talons. They can passively become pretty much invisible. They are as quiet as a wolf stalking prey, and they are absolutely deadly. Calayn and Kalyn slaughtered thirty soldiers by themselves."

Arya pursed her lips, a rare sign of worry.

"You trust them?"

"With my life," he assured. "Arya, believe me."

They kept walking, Eragon leaping onto the barricade of bricks, wood, and dirt, pounded together and held together by wooden planks and even more stone. He held out a hand to her, and despite the fact she could easily make the jump herself, she accepted his help, somewhat touched.

It was the North Barricade, facing the Spine Mountains, where just at the foot, lay the village where Eragon had been raised.

"It seems so long ago," he said quietly. "And yet, it seems like only yesterday I saw a baby dragon break out of a blue stone."

Then he chuckled, "Apparently she had thought my hand looked very tasty at that time for a reason she could not remember."

Arya laughed beautifully, and for one moment, from the simple joy of hearing that wondrous sound, he forgot his troubles and smiled. Arya's laughter died, but a smile stayed on her full lips, something he found her doing more and more often, much to his delight. She looked gorgeous with a scowl, but when she smiled and laughed, she was a goddess.

"Perhaps dragons are made to think that so they will give you the sign of the Rider," she said, her smile fading as she mulled over her words. "Actually, come to think of it, that sounds like a possible reason."

He shrugged, "It would make sense why it almost looked like she was going to bite my hand off, though."

She smiled again.

"You are a rare person to meet, Eragon Bromsson," she said softly. "Somehow you can make me smile in the face of the dawning of an inevitable battle that may claim our lives."

"Maybe it is simply more Dragon Rider magic," the Lord Rider said, leaning against the rampart. About thirty paces away, men, dwarves, and elves were working on an actual stone wall, the elves using magic to bind the stones together, a few humans testing the strength every once and a while by pounding on it with a huge hammer.

Perhaps the survivors could use it to last a few minutes longer and add more Imperial troops to the list of dead should the battle go ill.

"Do not risk yourself needlessly in the last battle, Eragon," Arya whispered.

He looked over at her as she hesitantly met his gaze. Her emerald eyes were subdued, the usual fire of independence and strength dim.

"What is the life of a Dragon Rider without risk?"

"A long one."

He smiled reassuringly, "I still stand before you after charging blindly into hundreds of risky situations. Perhaps I shall be the first to survive after all those risks."

Though she gave him a smile in return, she was silently praying his words would prove true.

* * *

><p>Translation: <em>H<em>_ljödhr__ Oroya _(title) – Silent Words

* * *

><p>TN: <em>Oroya<em> is my word~ ^o^ so yeshhhh

* * *

><p>AN: AHHHH four chapters! :D I'm happy. XD yes,I will admit, Terry Goodkind does give me much inspiration for all my stories, without a doubt. He is an AMAZING AMAZING AMAZINGAOSDIJASLKDJ writer, and if you have not read his books, you ought to read all of his books. No joke. I loved them. but… yeah, heh. they're a bit bloody and a bit explicit. So you have been warned, but I loved them through everything. I highly suggest you read his books, they're wonderfully plotted and genius and the characters are so… well-made, it doesn't even seem possible. So yeah, that's my blurb on Terry Goodkind. Too bad he asked not to have fanfic written on his stories… well, no one could even come close to writing something like his, so I suppose it makes sense. So yeah. Bye. ^^<p>

And yes, this was one of my shorter chapters… sorry D: and Kalyn's name sounds like Kalin, not a long y sound, it makes an "ih" sound.

OK, fine, after saying this, I will really, really leave

* * *

><p><strong>*SPOILER, OK?*<strong>

* * *

><p>Ok, in the book "Wizard's First Rule" by Terry Goodkind, the main character, Richard Cypher, is captured by his enemy and is tortured in a way that… is very imaginative, to say the least. anyways… A similar thing will happen, but it will deal with betrayal and then his torture and thus forth and I am sorry you ExA fans, you may not like what happens to him. All I'm gonna say. And that it won't happen for a little bit, so no worries. Yet. ^^<p>

OKKKK, BAI. GO. NOW. NAOOO.

Yeah. Bye.


	6. Lámarae

**Chapter 5 - **_**Lámarae**_

"_It takes reasoning to start a war, but it takes a fool to end one."_

_~ Eragon Shadeslayer, Bromsson, last Free Dragon Rider, Heir Lord of Vroengard_

Arya watched the soldiers as they quickly packed their weaponry and their equipment, some casting wary glances at her. Others simply nodded their greeting, walking without a word to her.

Normal.

Elf she may be, fair and commanding, and respected for she was considered a fine warrior, they feared her. She was elf-kind, not human. They loved Eragon, they lived in fear and respect of her, nothing more, nothing else. But she was used to it. The elves knew of her heritage and knew of the power she held at the tip of her finger, but what they didn't know was that Arya did not wish to be feared.

In some ways, she envied Eragon.

At least the soldiers loved him and would gladly die if he asked them to.

Other than that, he had Saphira to talk to and to confess anything to without fear of her leaving him.

"Milady, are you alright?" a soldier asked as he hauled a huge bundle of bound arrows.

She nodded, "I am not dying, simply watching, soldier."

He shrugged, "You looked worried, milady."

She looked at him curiously, hiding it behind a calculative eye, "Most soldiers fear me, why are you different?"

He shouldered the bundle, catching another with his open arm, "I do not fear a person who fights alongside me, milady, it is simple logic."

"You are a strange soldier. What is your name?"

"Haman, milady."

She watched his strong arms as he tossed the bundle to a companion, "I shall see you on the battlefield, soldier. You have my thanks and my respect."

He bowed, "Thank you, milady."

* * *

><p>Eragon saw Arya walk over to him, the soldiers making a clear path of her, her aura of… the word "frightening" was appropriate here.<p>

Unarmored, unarmed, yet the mere slant of her eyes, her cool, calculating gaze, her cold expression, it was enough to drive soldiers out of her way.

"_Ono kanë medh eka ganyë_?" she asked.

He glanced at the soldiers.

"_Eka vilya eom dula hëora_," he said. "_Vel lan tula_?"

"_Shur'tugal_," she said, eyeing him with exasperation.

The expression read "would-I-come-if-it-was-trivial?"

"Soldiers, do you mind if I steal the Rider for a little while?" Arya asked.

The men laughed, "Go ahead, milady," one soldier called. "He has been doing too much work, we barely get to do anything, how am I supposed to impress the ladies with underworked muscles?"

More laughter.

Eragon patted a soldier's back, "Alright, leave me with the weak muscles."

"Of course, sir," another man called out, laughing. "Your looks are enough, my wife can't stop staring at you when you pass!"

Eragon just smirked, following Arya away and towards the outer city limits.

Much of the Varden army was ready and were beginning to file out of Belatona, the others hurriedly packing their weaponry and saying farewells.

He whistled, the stallion that had once been Imperial trotting over to him.

"Stay in the trees, Scar," he said, patting the horse's neck.

He whinnied, laying down by the edge of the trees, finding a fruit to nibble on happily.

_I shall be with the army_, Saphira said, her small figure silhouetted in the sky, about the size of his thumb.

_Are the dreamwraiths with you?_

_They have taken horses and are with the Varden. Calayn wishes to know where you are, as does Kalyn and Nasuada._

_Tell her I shall be there soon, Arya wishes to talk to me._

_Of course, little one._

He could sense her smugness.

_Nothing like that, Saphira._

_Oh, alright, if you decide to mate with her, just remember to keep me out of your head._

_Saphira!_ he said with exasperation, her mental thrums dying out as she fled the barriers of his mind, leaving a very annoyed Rider.

"Eragon?"

He quickly glanced at Arya, "Oh, sorry, princess," he said sheepishly. "Saphira was talking to me."

She nodded, "I understand. Come, I need to show you something."

He warily followed her, "Perhaps like the sharp end of your blade like last time?" he asked wryly.

A tiny smile flickered but then vanished.

"No, I shall not test you again, no doubt you would have Brisingr drawn by the time I had Aiedail in my hands."

"Perhaps."

They walked through the forest, listening to the sound of birds, Eragon ever-aware of how close their hands were, their skin brushing every once and a while.

His ear twitched slightly at a new sound.

Rushing water.

He looked at Arya curiously, but she just indicated for them to walk on.

A waterfall.

It was not high, perhaps twenty feet, but it was beautiful in its own way.

Silvery water rushed down the steps of rock and stone, a fish flopping over the rapids every once in a while. Reeds grew along the side, the large stream flowing away, most likely away from Leona Lake.

"You brought me to see this?" he asked softly, dipping his hand in the soft, welcome water.

"Yes, and this," she said, taking a strange read, snapping it.

She gently took his hands, placing the thin strips in his palm.

"Break it."

He did so easily.

She took her cloak, and cut a bit of it, unthreading the wool it was made of, quickly braiding it with the reed strips.

In a few minutes, she handed him a strip of fabric.

"Rip this."

He pulled, and found it strangely resistant.

He quickly applied more strength, and it ripped in half.

Then he understood what she was saying.

He murmured a few quiet words, and the fabric tied itself together.

He set it in her hand, closing her fingers around the re-knit strip of _lámarae_, hesitating.

"You have taught me a lesson I will not forget," he said softly.

She nodded approvingly.

"Now may I teach you one?"

He stood up, pulling her to her feet.

"What do you wish to teach your superior?" she asked, a teasing tone in her voice.

She frowned at his smirk.

Then that frown turned into a shriek as he easily tossed her into the stream.

She came up, sputtering and cursing in Elvish.

"What will throwing me into a stream teach me?" she demanded furiously as he laughed at her angry expression.

He knelt in front of her, a smile upon his lips.

"To have fun."

Her eyes narrowed and she strode forward, her fingers gripping his collar.

"Oh, I will have fun."

Then she jerked him into the water with a splash and a swear word from the captive Rider.

* * *

><p>Nasuada raised an eyebrow as a horse galloped towards them from Belatona, Eragon's wavy blonde hair flowing behind him, disheveled as always, but what she didn't get was why he was soaking wet, and why Arya was just as wet as he was.<p>

"What happened?" she asked, looking them over.

Then she saw the elven princess smile slightly and it made her wonder what they had been doing.

"He was teaching me how to fall into a stream."

Eragon put a hand to his heart, "Milady, you hurt me! I would never do something of the such!"

Arya punched his shoulder, "Chivalrous as a dying fox, Eragon Shadeslayer. Next time I shall throw you into a lake."

"I will just take you with me then," he said, eyes twinkling with mischief.

"You tossed the elven princess into a stream," Nasuada said incredulously.

Eragon smiled, "She taught me the lesson of unity. In return, I taught her the lesson of having fun."

"The only fun part was dragging you into the water, Eragon," Arya grumbled, but by the way her usually harsh eyes were a bit warmer, Nasuada could tell the elf enjoyed being with Eragon.

Perhaps he didn't notice. Saphira usually teased him about being unperceptive.

She would have to ask him sometime, but for right now, she ignored it, just shaking her head with a quiet laugh.

"Arya, I never knew you could be such a troublemaker," the Varden's leader said.

The princess glared, "Stars, me? I was the victim!"

"Of fun? There is no such thing called a 'victim of fun,"" Eragon grinned.

The elf just sighed, leaning against his back, Scar trotting up beside her horse, neighing to the mare. Her ride butted the other horse's snout in greeting, the two going at an easy pace.

_If only I could get a fairth of this_, Nasuada chuckled, watching as Arya slowly but surely fell asleep.

* * *

><p>Translation: <em>Lámarae<em> (title) – fabric made by cross-weaving wool and nettle threads

_Ono kanë medh eka ganyë?_ – Can you walk with me? (lit.: _You can with me walk?_)

_Eka vilya eom dula hëora – _I wish to help here

_Vel lan tula? – _Is it important?

_Shur'tugal – _Dragon Rider

* * *

><p>TN: <em>Kanë<em>, _ganyë_, _vilya_, _dula_, _hëora_, _vel_, _lan_, and _tula_ are my words. XD

* * *

><p>AN: Simply a filler chapter really… XD<p>

EminemBitches – OMFG, THANK YOU… truth is I haven't read the books in so long so I was almost guessing my way through, I'll remember that nowww :D thank you thank you thank you, God, I was like… wtf, I swear Arya would slap him across the face if she ever got hugged by Eragon… XD thanks brah, I'm gonna be changing some stuff in the other chapters now. Thank God I finally started to remember thanks to you XD

Uhh… as for Eragon, well, he may be 16-17, but he's had to grow up really fast due to the war and his duties and so on and so forth, and not to mention, I will say this later, but he has spoken to Glaedr many times and the dragon has been mentoring him in a way only an ancient dragon living inside a crystal can. XD but yes, his mentoring with Glaedr has made him more patient, but I will give him his child-like moments, his joy, his grief, etc, but thanks a lot for your help :)

And heheh… naww, thatd be too graphic XD imaginative as in ways that are usually not used or with weapons usually not used, you'll see, lawl

Youngwarrior117 – Thank youuu :) I have to give my inspiration for the dreamwraiths to the thing called a night fury and the Mord-sith XD


	7. Fricai Onr Eka Eddyr

**Chapter 6 - **_**Fricai **__**O**__**nr **__**E**__**ka **__**E**__**ddyr**_

"_We march to Kuasta? It is folly."_

"_Wars are won upon victories others claimed were follies until their enemies lay slain beneath their feet."_

_ ~Arya Dröttningu (first speaker) and Eragon Shadeslayer (second speaker)_

Eragon rode at the head of the Varden Army, having started their long march to Kuasta about twelve hours ago, stopping for quick respites every once in a while. It would almost take three days for an army of this size to get to the city. About forty score men, dwarves, and elves marched, armored, grim, and ready. From Belatona, it was about two-hundred fifty leagues to get to Kuasta.

It was barely a fraction of the Varden. Their army had been split so they could protect more, about fifty score at Farthen Dûr, about as much at various areas in Surda and other surrounding Varden cities. In the end, they had about four-hundred score, but right now, they needed not that many to besiege and overtake one city.

Saphira flew above them, the dreamwraiths invisibly trailing the dragoness, the blue dragon dropping back to speak with a few of them, which she could see only because she flew among them. From the ground and anywhere else in the air, they could not be seen. Despite his protests, Calayn, Kalyn, and a few others of the dreamwraiths rode on horses near him, Arya at his right, King Orrin at his left, the other leaders in the first rank alongside him.

The Varden had grown accustomed to the dreamwraiths in the week since his return from Vroengard, many of them befriending the quiet beings who had quickly teamed up with the twelve elven spellcasters, the elves grateful to have additional guards for the Dragon Rider. Blödhgarm and Kalyn had become quick friends, the two now riding beside each other, talking casually, laughing every once in a while.

"How will we enter the city? The walls are said to be as strong as Urû'baen itself," Arya asked.

"Nasuada tells me that we can infiltrate the caste, deal with the gatekeepers, and open the gates, holding off the soldiers until the Varden can come in. What more, we cannot let any soldier escape, so we shall besiege the whole city."

The elf princess looked at him in confusion, "Why can we not?"

He indicated the dreamwraiths.

"Should Galbatorix not know of them, it would give us an enormous advantage in any following battles. They would only expect Saphira attacking from the skies, not so many dreamwraiths who are almost as deadly as her."

Arya nodded in realization.

Nasuada reined in her horse, the rest of the army stopping as the officers roared orders to halt.

About a hundred Imperial soldiers stood in the broad path, their weapons sheathed, a blood-red symbol of the Empire, a horned skull of a dragon, emblazoned on their pitch-black breastplates.

"Hail, Varden! I wish to speak with the Lord Rider Eragon Shadeslayer!" the man at the front called, pulling off his helmet, a wicked-looking one too. He was clearly a veteran, having many scars across his once-handsome face, long, black hair tied back in a ponytail, hard, cold eyes surveying the huge army without any trace of fear.

Eragon spurred his horse forward, riding a few paces forward from the first rank, "Hail, I am Eragon Shadeslayer!"

The man bowed, "My lord, me and my men have been searching for you! It has been many years since we last met, my Lord Rider."

Uneasy silence.

The man noticed the hesitance, and raised his hands, "_Mor'ranr, Shur'tugal. Eka malabra ono né haina._"

Eragon urged his horse towards the soldiers, leaping off the stallion to land in front of the man, comparably small to the bulky warrior. He reached about ten hands in height, broad-shouldered and his scars proved his toughness. He held out a hand, one Eragon took as the two powerful warriors shook hands heartily.

"I have met you before?" Eragon asked.

The man nodded, "Yes, my lord, it was perhaps fifteen years ago. My name is Captain Ralmir, of Lathina. When I heard of your appearance and your feats, me and those loyal to our oath came to find you."

"I seem to be receiving a lot of oaths these days," the Rider said wryly.

"I was good friends with your father, Brom," Ralmir said. "When Galbatorix struck down the Riders, Brom came to me and I swore an oath to protect his son."

"How?" Eragon asked with shock. "You…"

"Look younger than a hundred? Yes, but to be truthful, I am one-hundred fifty-eight years old."

Those who could hear stared in wonder, save his soldiers, similarly armored and all well-built and armed.

The man pursed his lips.

"It was both a blessing and a curse. The warriors of Lathina are given reprieve from age and sickness, but we may die from wounds and magic. We fear nothing but to die in a bed from a fatal wound, for we would rather die in the blaze of a battle, for glory, honor, and for our belief. For a hundred years, I served Galbatorix, waiting for the son Brom told me he had foreseen. He went to a seer, and was told his son would be born of a woman who was bound by black chains and a tower of magic. When he met Selena, it was fulfilled. And thus here I am, a warrior in your service, my liege."

The soldiers all dropped on one knee, their right or left fist to their heart, most likely their dominant hand. Their heads were bowed, and it was a strange and frightening sight for they all moved in unison with lethal grace and with brute strength an elf could probably not match.

"On your feet, Captain Ralmir."

The man rose to his feet, once more standing taller than the Rider.

"So tell me… how did you meet me?"

The man smiled, "It was when you were but a wee child, my lord. Brom, before the soldiers came to Carvahall, was close to Garrow and his wife. Then the soldiers came, and the two agreed to stay apart to avoid suspicion. Anyways, Brom contacted me through a wolf messenger, and that is where I met you, Lord Eragon. You were a very curious child."

"Nasuada, get me a horse!"

A soldier quickly ran to the back, unhitching a stallion from a cart to run the great beast over to them.

"Please, ride with me. Your men can join the ranks of the vanguard, we always have room for more people."

The man hauled himself up with practiced ease as he shouted some orders, the men quickly getting to their feet to join the vanguard of the army.

As the army resumed their march, Ralmir told his story.

"It was simple. Either I joined the Empire's army, or I died, so to help me in my promise to protect you, I joined. I told the original men who were with me, for Brom had saved me and my men's lives with his dragon years back. The men called him 'brother' for that is what we called a man we trusted and would fight for. Most of us still live, though some have passed into the starlit path. Others have heard our story and are willing to fight for you, my lord."

"You say your men are blessed and cursed with immortality?"

Ralmir nodded his head grimly.

"We cannot marry. The oath gave us long life, for unknowingly, Brom used magic to lengthen my lifetime to the point where the end is too far to consider a time. Should we give another oath that lasts our lifetime, it would kill us. We cannot have conflicting oaths. Some of us died for that very reason until we learned."

Eragon pitied the man.

"I am sorry, captain."

"It is but a price we are all willing to make to honor Brom. He was a great man and we respected him greatly for he truly cared for our wellbeing. He was a man I was proud to serve under."

Arya rode up on the other side of Eragon, her elven mare, bred for speed and strength, snorting softly, talking to Eragon's stallion.

"Did Galbatorix not make you give an oath of fealty?" she asked.

The man shook his head, "He may be a bastard and a tyrant, but he has a sense of honor. He understands my vows, and he also understands that I am a future enemy, yet he did not slay me for he also knew I was a worthy opponent. It will be the same for you, Eragon Shadeslayer. No matter what the people say, he… is understanding."

Arya looked at the man as if he had just said the moon was green and had ducks floating on it.

Ralmir caught her incredulous gaze, and sighed, putting his helmet on the little knob on the backside of the saddle.

"He is, truly, but in his own, strange way, if maybe slightly perverse and twisted. He may not understand mercy, grace, forgiveness, and love, but he does understand how it feels to follow through on a promise, and more over that, he understands war. He will not kill a warrior in cold blood. It will only be through fair combat."

"For some reason, that gives me little comfort," Eragon chuckled.

Ralmir smirked confidently, "You are Brom's son, are you not? I fear not."

Arya gently drew Eragon aside, his horse following hers as they pulled ahead of the army, aware of the confused eyes on their backs as she bent in towards him as he leaned his head sideways, her lips grazing his ear. He had grown used to her actions and he knew she was about to ask something she did not others to hear.

"Do you trust him?" she asked quietly. "It seems too coincidental. Galbatorix does not make him swear loyalty in the Ancient Language, he comes to us right before a battle…"

"He said he meant me no harm in the Ancient tongue, he cannot go back on his word."

Calayn rode up beside them, grim and wary.

"If the princess is telling you that she is unsure of their loyalty, I am here to agree with her."

Arya gave a nod.

"I need not worry. After all, I have Saphira and fifty dreamwraiths who can easily slaughter a score of soldiers," he smiled. "I can worry about myself, Arya. I am not one of those human children."

She gave him a glare, "Do not misquote me, Eragon Bromsson."

He smirked playfully as Calayn laughed quietly.

"Misquote? I simply said that on my own accord," he lied playfully.

"Perhaps a prolonged swim in the lake would prove your lie otherwise?"

He threw his hands up in the air in exasperation, "Bah! How am I supposed to have any fun with you two criticizing my every move? And to tell the truth, I do remember Ralmir now, though he had a lot less scars last time I saw him."

Calayn shrugged, "If you trust the man, I shall not say anything against your word, Lord Rider. But you have my word that I shall be keeping a sharp eye on him and his men."

"As will I," Arya said sharply, giving Calayn a commending nod. "One false move, and I shall spit his body on the wrong end of my sword."

"Wrong end as in the hilt?"

He laughed as she punched his shoulder, his horse leaping forward as the beast spun on its hooves, prancing as if it was dancing.

Calayn raised an eyebrow, as did half the army.

His horse stopped as Eragon held up his arms in mock approval for the applause, bowing.

Arya smiled as Nasuada laughed, "Come, I see the plain! We shall rest here for the night!"

Eragon, Arya, Ralmir, Calayn, and Saphira all sat by a fire (or lay, in Saphira's case), watching the stars as a hundred other campfires burned, loud and raucous songs coming from the main bonfire as a man danced to the cheers of his comrades.

_So tell me, captain_, Saphira said. _Was Eragon always reckless or did he just become reckless over the years?_

Eragon glared at his dragoness as the others laughed good-naturedly.

"Actually, I think so," Ralmir chuckled, patting Eragon's back. "Thing is he just wasn't big enough to get his head into big trouble, so it was fine. The worst that could happen was that he was reckless enough to fight a dog, perhaps."

"Already done," Eragon grunted, receiving laughter from his friends. Saphira thrummed with laughter, her tail wrapping around her Rider protectively.

Not that long ago, Ralmir and his men had sworn fealty to Eragon in the Ancient tongue, erasing most doubt from their minds and putting most of them at ease. They all had their suspicions, but they swore to protect Eragon with their lives and to fight for the Varden as long as they had breath in their nostrils and lungs. It was enough for the Dragon Rider, though Blödhgarm had reluctantly agreed to it.

Many of them had been shocked when Ralmir introduced his men—and women. They were slight of build, made like Arya, slender yet under their skin they held nothing but sheer muscle and deathly elegance. They were either beautiful or ruggedly attractive, and that also somewhat put them on edge, for not many women other than elven women fought, and to have humans who were immortal was strange as it was, but women?

Ralmir had explained that their warriors were taken from a tribe beyond the Hadarac, where women, if they could fight, were treated as warriors and respected. They all seemed deadly enough by the sheer fire and venom in their eyes as Eragon spoke with them, all of them eyeing him with a critical eye, finding him satisfactory, physically strong, and mentally strong. They had given him a powerful slap on the shoulder as he did the same, later figuring out it was a greeting between warriors to show that pain did not faze them.

"Lathina is on the edge of the Hadarac, and it is a place the Empire does not dare try to fully control. We govern ourselves, and many of the men are loyal to Brom for he came to help us when Urgal tribes attacked. I only brought a small number of the three-thousand loyalists in fear that we may be attacked, but should I call, the whole army of Lathina shall come to your aid, my lord," Ralmir had said when Eragon had asked where Lathina was. "Our warriors our tough, one man is worth at least five of the Empire's, that is why they are cautious when dealing with us. Our shield walls are impenetrable, a well-equipped wall of a hundred men can hold off a thousand with ease."

"I have heard but mere stories of shield walls," Arya said. "Is it not that your shields are made in a certain shape that they can be interlocked?"

"That is correct, Princess Arya. We have the outer ranks lock their shields in a tight circle, the others raising their shields above their heads to protect from arrows and spears. We then attack with our long-shafted spears to strike at the enemy before they can get into sword range."

"An impressive feat, one not many armies have dared to try," Arya said, nodding her approval.

Ralmir leaned back, sighing softly, "So it is Kuasta we attack?"

"You heard correctly, friend," Eragon grunted. "But I must say it is not a task that many armies would relish tackling on their best day. The walls are thick and high, the men brave and brawn."

"You have dreamwraiths, no?"

Eragon looked startled, "You know of them?"

The man shrugged, "Only me and my men, the Empire knows not. I can sense them, but only distantly. I can never tell how many, only if they are near."

"I am a dreamwraith," Calayn said.

"Ah, so that is why I felt your presence. An honor, milady," Ralmir said, inclining his head. He then stroked his trimmed beard.

"Lady Calayn, do you believe your kin and kith could each fly with two people on their back, armored and bulky?"

"Our wings are strong, captain, I believe we could manage."

Her eyes lit with realization as his plan became obvious to them.

"We fly men in."

Ralmir nodded, "Precisely. If you wish, I can take twenty of my men and storm the ramparts while you and the rest of the men can open the gates and hold the soldiers off with the dreamwraiths. I have heard but legends of their ferocity being a rival to even a dragon's."

Saphira thrummed, _They are powerful allies, without a doubt._

Calayn smiled, leaning against the dragon she had swiftly befriended.

"I believe that is a good plan," Eragon agreed. "Calayn, how many dreamwraiths are in your clan?"

"Fifty-eight, ten more, but I do not think they are old enough to carry two fully armored warriors."

"Then we shall make do. I think it would be best if we attack at night, we should march the night, and then rest tomorrow day. It may seem strange, but it would be best. Anyways, it is easier to stand guard in broad daylight than night," Arya said.

Eragon got up, "I shall go inform Nasuada. We must rouse the camp and start the march over again."

When the march began once again, the moon was high in the night sky, gleaming down on the army as they marched down the path. Some soldiers were sleeping on the shoulder of their neighbors, somehow resting while marching in perfect sync. Nasuada had quickly agreed, though many of the soldiers were horrified to learn they were marching through the night, though none disagreed with the logic.

Eragon and Arya rode a farther than the rest, scouting and relating information the Nasuada through the mind bond he shared with the dreamwraiths, namely Calayn, who was riding beside the Varden leader, telling him whatever her liege lord told her.

The Rider reeled back on his horse's rein, which he had come to call Dancer due to the horse's nimbleness and coordination. Dancer could do a quick reverse, trot backwards, trot sideways, spin in circles, and rear on his hind legs, backing up a few steps before leaping forward again, all quite amazingly and expertly executed.

He patted Dancer's neck, looking around as Arya stopped her horse, her sensitive ears twitching slightly at every sound.

"_Hav'er vel lan_?" she asked softly.

"_H__ljödhr__in_," he hissed, slipping off his horse. He motioned for her to dismount as they slipped through the forest, Eragon telling the horses to stay where they were as quietly as they could.

_My lord?_

_Calayn, I think I hear something. Wait a few moments._

_Of course, my lord._

Eragon soundlessly slipped through the trees, parting a bush.

An army.

He could see the red and black armor of Imperial soldiers as Arya surveyed the men without any reaction, her eyes icy cold as usual.

_Maybe five-thousand Imperial soldiers. Tell Captain Ralmir and his men to come to me with the dreamwraiths, dismounted and quiet as they can._

_Yes, my lord._

A few minutes later, Ralmir crouched by them, his sword drawn and his helmet pulled on, though his visor was raised. He eyed the soldiers, calculating their chances.

"I believe we can take them," the captain whispered. "The dreamwraiths are invisible, let them come after us, we can take the brunt of the blow, they can slaughter everyone else with ease."

"Calayn, is she here?" Eragon asked.

A cloaked figure slipped through the darkness, "Right here, Lord Rider," she said quietly, pulling back her hood to reveal her beautiful face.

"Tell your kin and kith to follow behind Ralmir's men, Arya and I shall be with them. Try to stay alive," he smirked.

She gave a lopsided smile.

"I always have, milord," she said, her exotic accent alluring and wonderfully beautiful. Her "r's" vanished slightly, giving her a more lilting pronunciation.

He pushed back his distracting feelings, motioning for Ralmir's men to draw their swords as quietly as possible as they noiselessly ghosted through the trees, the fires dim, the few guards talking idly, unable to see the mostly-black armored men coming towards them.

Arya's fingers curled as she whispered a few words, and the five guards fell down, their necks bent at awkward angles.

Eragon held up his hand, his conscience telling him this was dishonorable.

He grabbed a bowl made of clay, the size of his chest, and threw it on the stone pit.

The shattering sound was like thunder in the silence.

The camp sprang awake, the men diving for their weaponry, only to find a sword stabbed through their hearts before their hands could even touch the handles.

A few soldiers cried out in alarm before they were silenced by a storm of blades, but it was useless, the whole camp was already awoken. Ralmir shrugged at Eragon, knowing that the young man's heart had been feeling guilty about slaying unarmed and sleeping men.

Eragon slashed through a man, the soldier still half asleep as he desperately swung his sword, Eragon's easily throwing it aside. In the next instant, Brisingr was buried hilt-deep into the man's chest. He spun to block another blade, letting Arya dispose of him as she ran her blades through the back of his neck, kicking him to the ground for dead.

The dreamwraiths could not be seen, but whenever they saw torn and mutilated bodies, you knew where they had been. A man screamed as his chest was torn open, throwing away by a punch too powerful to be human.

Twirling his sword in his hand, he lopped the head off a yelling man, ending his pain with a deft flick of his wrist as Eragon used the next flick to disarm a man before Ralmir grabbed him, breaking his neck with a violent twist of his muscled arms. He tossed the dead man to the ground, surveying the carnage.

"Is that everyone?" Eragon demanded.

Calayn walked over, licking the blood off her fingers like a cat. It was somewhat disturbing until he remembered she had probably been in "the kill," and she was part beast, part human. The beast of her was right now in charge of her body.

Her eyes blazed as she noticed what she was doing, grimacing with disgust as she spat out blood and saliva.

"Hence why I prefer staying in one form for longer than ten minutes," she grumbled. "Kalyn and fifteen of his friends went into the forest to hunt down the ones who escaped, only thirty or-so got away. They will all be dead in the hour."

Eragon grunted, "Galbatorix would be so very proud of what we just did."

The dreamwraith woman looked at him with eyes that spoke too much, showing him that she adored him for who he was, the Lord Rider, and her new friend and protector.

"Eragon, you are nothing like that bastard murderer and traitor," she whispered, gently taking his face between her slender fingers, still bloodied from Imperial blood, but his face was blood-stained too. "Galbatorix would not look upon me and my brothers and sisters with compassion as you did."

"But he would have slaughtered five-thousand men at the dead of night."

"But with warning?"

She smiled triumphantly as he came up short of an answer, "Exactly, my lord."

He took her hands in his, bringing them away from his dirty face.

"Things are changing."

"Then I shall be the stone of consistency for you to hold onto, milord."

He gave a small smile to return her beautiful one.

"Just be my friend, and I think I shall be fine, Calayn."

"I would march through the Land of the Tormented and back through for you, my lord. Being a friend is simple enough."

* * *

><p>Translation: <em>Fricai <em>_O__nr __E__ka __E__ddyr_(title) – I am Your Friend

_Mor'ranr, Shur'tugal. Eka malabra ono né haina _– Peace, Dragon Rider. I mean you no harm

_Hav'er vel lan_? – What is it?

_H__ljödhr__in_ – Silence/quiet

* * *

><p>TN: <em>hav'er, vel<em>,and _lan_ are my words. _Hljödhrin_ is in a way, I just changed the word for "silent" a bit to make it into "silence," I just added an "-in" to the end.

* * *

><p>AN: MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH, THIS CHAPTER IS MUCH BETTER AHAHDLSKJ and as you can see, I have been in a very Eragon-y mood… I've been writing so much for this Inheritance fanfic… Ok, anyways, yesh. You can see that in the few days between this chapter and the last, maybe… eight days? They say week in a general term, not necessarily seven days… and hey, this is Alagaësia, not Earth, so they may have different weeks… Paolini never mentioned how long their years, days, and weeks were, did he?... oh well…Anyways, yes, Calayn and Eragon have become close friends ^-^ after all, he is the Lord Rider, and she's supposed to be his protector, duh?... (like Cara and Richard) soo… yeah. GOODBYE *runs upstairs*<p> 


	8. Hav'er San'lira Hïroa

**Chapter 7 – _Hav'er San'lira Hïroa _**

"_I have yet to find something that means more than the victory of the Varden, my friend."_

"_Truly?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Then you are looking at the world through the wrong set of eyes, Arya."_

"_And why is that? It is an honorable vision we have."_

"_Because the victory of the Varden comes second after the victory of humanity. Our humanity."_

_~Arya Dröttningu (first speaker) and Eragon Shadeslayer (second speaker)_

Eragon listened as Kalyn… "asked" the captive questions. The unlucky soldier's answers could be heard in the incarnation of a scream throughout the whole camp, the Varden warriors dead silent as they listened to the Imperial soldier beg for mercy, his ragged screams once again filling the air when he refused to answer the dreamwraith's question.

Kalyn was easy-going and playful, but this man… Right now, that easy-going and playful dreamwraith needed answers, needed them fast, and this man was refusing to give them. It scared the Dragon Rider to know his friend could be so fun to be around, but in the torture chambers, he was as frightening and cold-hearted as a wall as he listened to the man scream without any outward emotions.

Another scream rent the air.

Calayn sat stoically, her eyes unwavering as she watched the flames.

Kalyn swept out of the tent in a huff, broken sobs behind him as he stormed over, sitting by his sister, "Damn that soldier," he growled. "I have a mind to crush his bones one by one if he keeps refusing to answer my questions."

Eragon had to admit it was somewhat tiring to try and question a man if he refused to answer.

Did anyone mention he loved stating the obvious?

Calayn got up, "Let me."

His hand gripped her forearm, holding her still as he got up.

"No. I will."

He stalked into the tent, the smell of blood, sweat, and tears smashing him in the face as he refused to react. He looked at the pitiful man.

"My friend tells me you refuse to answer his questions."

The man kept sobbing, blood dripping down from a thousand wounds. Kalyn was a masterful killer. He knew all the kill points and all the parts where it would hurt like the nine hells yet keep you alive. He had healed a few, more serious wounds, but had left the man without the respite of a full healing due to his inability to conjure healing powers without draining his whole energy supply.

"Why will you not tell us?"

"Damn you, damn the Varden!" he screamed. "Damn this world! Galbatorix will be king in the end, he will crush you, you and your damn reb-…"

Eragon's powerful uppercut to the gut silenced the man into hacking coughs.

"Do not speak unless you are begging for mercy or giving me answers," the Dragon Rider hissed. "The man who tortured you before me is a novice compared to me when it comes to giving pain."

Eragon watched as fear squirmed into the man's defiant eyes, his rebellious fire dying down.

"You're…"

"Yes, as you would say, the 'damn Dragon Rider,'" Eragon grunted.

Then his fingers pushed down on a gash—hard.

The man howled with pain as he kept pushing, his finger cutting into the man's shoulder as he twisted, tearing flesh away.

"And if you do not give me the answers I want, I will be your 'damn killer.'"

"Never! Long live the king!" the man yelled hoarsely.

That declaration broke into another ear-splitting scream as Eragon sent a bit of fire through is finger and into the wound.

"Wrong answer. Tell me, how many men are in Kuasta."

"You whoreson! You think you're goi-…"

Eragon cut off his remark with more fire. His screams grew even louder when the Rider added some electrical shocks into his touch, the fingers that were on the arm of the shoulder he was touching twitching spasmodically.

"My mother. Was not a whore. Wrong answer again. Do you wish to try my patience? I know thousands of ways to-…"

Eragon cut off.

"_Waíse heíll_."

The man gasped raggedly with relief as the wounds vanished, every single one, down to the last nick and bruise.

"Now what, you start all over again on a fresh body?" the man sneered.

"No."

Eragon cut his bonds, whispering some spells.

"I am letting you go. When you get at a league away from this army, these ropes will vanish, and you will forget you ever saw me or my friends. The Varden army, as you last remember, is still at Belatona. We have no plans of attacking Kuasta or Teirm or Narda, or any other city garrisoned by Imperial soldiers. If you see any of your comrades or any other Imperial troops, you will instantly forget about the Varden. You may join the Empire's army once more if you wish."

Eragon shoved him lightly, "Now get out of here."

The man stared at him with shock.

"S-sir?..."

The Dragon Rider's eyes were dark and stormy.

"What is it?"

The man nearly trembled as Eragon tossed him a brown tunic and some traveling clothes, including a pouch with five gold coins, a small halberd, a belt, and a cloak.

"Why are you letting me go? It looked as if you were going to kill me, sir…"

Eragon led the man through the astonished camp as soldiers stared at him.

"I am letting you go because I am no Galbatorix. Had I tortured you to death as I was going to, that would be against my ideals I live by. You will remember those words when you leave, and someday, perhaps you will act upon them."

The man hesitated at the edge of the camp, a large crowd of men gathered to watch the spectacle.

He fell to his knees, "I am honored, Lord Eragon."

When Eragon nodded, he stood up, eyes strong and proud.

"Not eight-thousand, but the walls are more than ten feet thick. The gates are bronze and of reinforced steel, the frame of the strongest oak and of stone. There are two gates, the larger gate is weaker than the smaller. There are two gatekeepers, guarded by a half-platoon of soldiers at each gate. Make sure they do not reach the gatehouse or they will sound the alarm. The bell is too large for two gatekeepers, and that is why a soldier or two need to help when it is rung.

"When you kill the groups of soldiers at both ends, you will be safe until more soldiers see the slaughter and start coming. Open the gates, it will take three men on each side to pull open the gates, even with the help of the lever. Another four must be at the top with the portcullis. When the soldiers come, silence them. There is no other alarm than their voices and the bells. Beware of the keep, many say there are dark mages that live there and protect the lord of the city," the man said in a hushed tone, making sure no one else heard. He glanced at the wary soldiers before continuing. "In five days, they will have ten-thousand men coming from Teirm to help reinforce their garrison. You must take the city before that or you will be caught between two formidable forces."

Eragon nodded.

The man gave a salute before the Rider whistled, a horse trotting over to him, a young mare.

"Good fortunes to you, soldier."

The man gave a grim smile, "Fair battles to you, Lord Rider. You have my word that all I said is true, upon my honor, warrior to warrior."

The horse leapt forward as the man spurred her gently, riding away.

* * *

><p>Needless to say, Kalyn was furious.<p>

Until he heard what Eragon had to say.

He told them every bit about what the soldier had warned him about, the bells, the mages, the walls and how to attack and the soldiers marching in from Teirm in five days.

Nasuada chewed over his words.

Arya's fingers tentatively rested over his.

Their eyes met.

"_You chose well_," she mouthed.

He smiled tiredly.

She frowned, her brows furrowing as she reached over to touch his forehead. She raised an eyebrow.

"Lady Nasuada, please excuse me and Eragon, I believe he has fallen ill for some reason," Arya said, her soft words cutting through the tense air as she motioned for Eragon to stand. He unsteadily did so, stumbling almost immediately as he gripped the pavilion's frame for support, his gaze swimming dizzily.

He felt strong arms wrap around his waist as another pair of hands held him steady, leading him to his tent.

Air whistled past his ear as he fell onto his bed, velvet-skinned hands touching his brow, a strangely muffled voice asking for something he couldn't comprehend. Everything sounded as if there was a fluffy pillow tied around it.

Then he fell asleep.

* * *

><p>When he woke up, his ears were ringing painfully, his head pounding with his heart. A familiar person was watching him with warm eyes, her hand resting on his.<p>

Familiar? Where the black heart of the black king did he see her before?

"Who are you?" he croaked.

She gave a sad smile, "Eragon, that was somewhat hurtful. Do you not recognize your own mother?"

Mother…

So that was why she looked so familiar. Now that he knew, he could already see the beginning of their similarities. Their brown eyes, the strong-jawed chin, regally-straight nose, slender, sinewy fingers, muscled, yet slim, bodies, whereas Brom had been lankier and had an air of agile, wiry strength. But he had inherited Brom's hair, though when he had seen the storyteller, he had been gray-haired and an aging old man.

An aging old man still able to whack him enough times with a stick sword to convince him he wasn't all that old.

"Mother…"

She got up, sitting on the bed by him, her fingers caressing his face as he relished her gentle touch, something he had never been able to receive from a motherly figure. Or at least he had never been able to remember. Garrow's wife had died of the flu when he was barely three years of age.

"You have certainly grown, my love," she said softly, leaning down to kiss his forehead, her warm lips lessening the pain of his headache. Silken, black hair brushed his face, but even that was welcome.

"I think I have seen you somewhere before," he whispered. "I swear… in the market, where…"

Her finger touched his lips, silencing him as she smiled.

"My dear, that was not me you saw."

"I know… but she looked so much like you…"

Selena laughed beautifully, "Eragon, you are always so inquisitive and wondering about things that you can probably never figure out. You are so much like me when I was your age," she smiled, drawing his head into her lap as he sighed with the instant relief it brought to his aching back. The pillow had been too low for his comfort.

"I thought the word stubborn was always applied to anyone related to Brom," the young Dragon Rider chuckled.

"Stubborn is one of your better characteristics, my son."

He grimaced, "Then that leaves a very short list of good characteristics and a very long list of bad ones."

"Eragon, being stubborn is not always bad. Be stubborn at the right times, and it will be one of your greatest strengths."

"Riddles? Mother, I do not like riddles, they are as confusing as prophesies, and I already have a headache."

She chuckled, brushing some hair out of his eyes, "Think, Eragon. What made you spare that soldier?"

"Mercy, grace, whatever you wish to call it."

"No, my love. Stubbornness."

"You truly are a mystery. No wonder Brom fell in love with you; he loved untangling mysteries and puzzles."

She smirked, "He figured out every knot and loop, my dear. But listen. It was stubbornness. Not mercy. It was stubbornness to become a murderer like Galbatorix that made you spare that man."

"I believe I untied one of your many knots, Mother."

The smile she gave him was beautiful.

"Eragon, you are a wonderful person. But there is a force that lies within here," she said, tapping his heart. "And here. It is a battle. Every story, every war, every battle and every argument started out between a fight between heart and mind, love and duty. You must find equilibrium, Eragon. And you have. Stubbornness—against both. You spared the man, giving your duty a rest, for you have a duty to be a Dragon Rider, not a killer, and you appeased your graceful and merciful side, your heart. You killed the Imperial army, but you threw that pot to ease your compassion, while your sword eased your duty's wishes. Your stubbornness makes you protect your friends, to the point where they point out you are stubborn. But on the inside, each one of them loves you more than you could imagine. Even Arya."

"Arya is a stranger puzzle than you, Mother, and she has twice as many knots."

Selena graced his forehead with another kiss, "That she is, but her life has had more twists, turns, betrayals, and broken stepping stones than anyone else, save perhaps you. She has found a kindred spirit in you, Eragon. Do not lose her."

"It is hard."

"Life is made to be hard. Those who live soft, easy lives will, in the end, get nothing of value. Those who live on the edge, on the edge of a sharpened, hot sword, will face death, face trouble, face evil and everything else hell has to throw at them, but in the end, their names will be remembered for eternity, for good or ill. Galbatorix is one of those men and women. Brom is another. Eragon, you will be one too."

He gave a weak smile, "You give me a hard agenda and legacy to live up to, Mother."

"That is what a mother is for, no?" she teased, poking his nose. "Make your life as miserable as humanly possible."

They laughed quietly as her fingers stroked his face, tender and loving, just as he always imagined her to be. Others spoke of her as a killer and a heartless assassin, but the way Brom had said her name… it changed everything. He would get that dreamy look, his eyes misting over as he said that single word that had changed his life in so many ways.

"_Selena… Eragon, I pity that you would not have the honor of meeting such a wonderful woman and lover. She… hell, I don't know what to say of her," Brom laughed without mirth. "She was beautiful, strong, independent, fiery, yet when she loved you, she wouldn't let you die without a fight, and she would fight with you through hell and back. But most importantly, she is not the woman everyone says she is. Believe me, she may have had a dark past, but I would not have loved a killer like I loved Selena. Trust me on this one thing if you never believe anything else. Never judge someone by what they are. Judge them by what they can become."_

"_Mäaïr_," he whispered. "_Ach ono elsara eka?_"

He could feel the soft brush of lips on the bridge of his nose.

"_Eka elsara ono meiri ena hyvetnya_," she promised.

"_Táo vatki elliar hïroa_."

Then the world around him faded away.

* * *

><p>Translation: <em>Hav'er San'lira Hïroa <em>(title) – What Truly Matters

_Waíse heíll – _Be healed

_Mäaïr. Ach ono elsara eka?_ – Mother. Do you love me?

_Eka elsara ono meiri ena hyvetnya – _I love you more than anything

_Táo vatki elliar hïroa – _Then nothing else matters

* * *

><p>TN: ok, it's easier to say what words I didn't make up in this chapter. <em>Ach<em>, _waíse_,_ heíll_, _ono_, _eka_. Everything else that's Ancient tongue I made up. XD ohhh yeyeahhh

* * *

><p>AN: yes, I will admit… I really did like this chapter. I always wondered what Selena was like, and now this is my chance to choose ^o^ harhar<p>

I hope you liked it as much as I did, I'm pretty sure in my story at least, Eragon inherited his wryness from his mother. XD lolllll, but really… you've got to be kidding me… six chapters? And I've only writing one chapter each for the other stories? Gosh…

Keep reviewing! :D please? _Sil vous plait?__Por favor? Diolch! _:)_ ^-^_

…

* * *

><p>Translation: <em>Sil vous plait (French)<em> – Please

_Por favor (Spanish) – _Please

_Diolch! (Welsh) – _Thanks!

Mind me, I might get something wrong if its anything not in English or Korean or French, and even things in Korean and French might be a little inaccurate because my French is rusty, even after three years, and I wasn't born or raised in Korea, so my accent is a bit strange, but I can speak it well enough to be passable for Koreans, they understand me ^-^ hahahaha, what a joke.

They actually do though. XD


	9. Fyla Anfílwyn

**Chapter 8 - **_**Fyla Anfílwyn**_

"_There are things worth fighting for, and things worth dying for. And then there are things that are not worth anything but the sharp end of a sword."_

_~Arya Dröttningu, Princess of Ellesmera, daughter of King Evander and Queen Islanzadí, egg courier, freedom fighter, one of the council members of the Varden, friend and companion of Eragon Shadeslayer and Saphira Bjatrskular_

Eragon landed soundlessly on his leather boot soles, drawing his black cloak around him even tighter. Arya was behind him, Blödhgarm and most of his personal guard also with him. The dreamwraiths materialized nearby, mere shadows in a night full of them.

As if nature had sided with the Varden for this fight, the moon was hidden behind clouds, masking them even further.

_Milord, I see the gate and soldiers ahead. Dathal says his group has found the other gate. Should they strike?_

_None alive, no mercy, do it quietly, _Eragon thought back to her.

They stalked forward towards the soldiers sitting around the gate, talking idly.

_Calayn, take them out. Fast, none may live._

The air shimmered and warped slightly as the dreamwraiths moved behind each soldier, the unlucky victims unaware of their death hovering behind them.

The soldiers fell as one.

Eragon charged into the gatekeeper's cottage, smashing the door down with a silenced spell.

The two men in their leapt up, their eyes wide as they saw the cloaked figure walking towards them with a blade that glowed with its own strength.

Without thinking, Brisingr slashed through them.

He walked out, Calayn dropping a dead soldier as the men at the ramparts swiftly fell to their blades.

"Raise the portcullis," Eragon ordered as he walked up the stairs to the rampart.

Two dreamwraiths ran to the section of wall that was across a thin strip of stone, leading to a huge wheel and axle that would raise the iron gates and thus allow the Varden in.

"Gates, now," the Dragon Rider hissed as he saw Ralmir's men turning the huge wheels that opened the bronze doors.

Ralmir raised a hand, holding up two fingers.

All clear.

Eragon leapt down, bending his knees to take the impact of the forty-foot jump.

He grabbed the wheel, turning it rapidly with inhuman strength as Kalyn took hold of one of the spokes, his muscles tensing as the two friends swung the heavy gates open as the rest of their group pushed upon the gates to help them.

Eragon grabbed his bow off his back, lighting the end of an arrow with the word "_brisingr_."

He shot it into the air.

A group of black-armored soldiers, smothered in ash to not give away their location, hurried down over the hill, running into the city, around a hundred of them. At the other gate, he could see similar numbers.

They would help hold back Kuasta's army until the full force could be marched into the open city.

Now for phase two.

Eragon stretched out his fingers, blue swirls of energy gathering at his fingertips as he chanted some words, flames springing into existence.

The energy streamed away.

A line of houses caught fire, followed by practically the rest of the area they were in as the other spellcasters with him did the same.

The signal was lit accompanying the screams and shouts of Kuasta's inhabitants.

* * *

><p>Nasuada nodded grimly as nearly a tenth of the city sprang up in flames.<p>

"Take the city," she said.

The Varden marched down the plains.

* * *

><p>Eragon ran at the first soldiers that appeared, his blade becoming a blur of blue as he cut through them with frightening ease. Left parry, uppercut, disarm, stab, duck, it was a dance he knew all too well.<p>

He was immediately aware of Arya rushing beside him, using her blade to great effect as she quickly dispatched a warrior with a blow that nearly severed his head from his neck, kicking the dead soldier down against one of his comrades, giving Eragon the distraction he needed. Brisingr flashed into the astonished Imperial's chest, using his muscled arm to throw the dead soldier at another group of soldiers.

"Where is the lord of the city?" Eragon asked as they drew back to plan as the army of the Varden began their march down towards the city.

"He should be in the keep," Arya said, indicating the second wall in the center of the city where citizens were streaming in. "They will have mages ward the doors."

"It is of no use, the dreamwraiths can handle that," the Dragon Rider said with a confident nod. "Trust me."

She shrugged, looking up as Saphira landed in the midst of enemy soldiers, her roar deafening probably half of them, her various natural weaponry killing them in the next instant. She took to the air, torching other bits of the city, the flaming liquid sliding off air around the wall of the keep.

_They have warded their last refuge_, Saphira said with annoyance.

_Let the dreamwraiths handle that._

_Very well_.

Calayn ran over to him, grasping his arm, "My lord, we must get to the keep, the soldiers are drawing back!"

Arya nodded to him.

"Come, we must kill as many as we can, we cannot have too many soldiers in the keep or it will be hell for us trying to take it."

_Saphira, kill the soldiers, do not let so many get into the keep's shelter!_

In response, she dived down, her fiery breath burning dozens to death, the smell of burnt flesh nearly making him puke. The ran through the burning carnage, slicing through the soldiers that got in before they reached the wall. Calayn leapt into the air, vanishing over the wall as the shadows of the dreamwraiths pierced the protective wards without any problem.

Arya let out a quiet gasp.

The screams of tormented soldiers came out before the gates smashed open, Calayn standing with her hands on her hips, a grim smile upon her lips.

"Welcome to the keep of Kuasta, milord," she said, bowing.

The army of the Varden burst into the city, slaughtering everyone who held a weapon against them.

Kuasta has fallen.

Eragon cleaned his blade on a dead captain's cape, striding through the gates, Arya right behind him.

"Leave none but the lord and those with him alive.

* * *

><p>Calayn and her kinsfolk walked alongside Eragon and Arya, their swords and bows drawn, Eragon having Brisingr sheathed to show his confidence in their protection.<p>

No soldier who came at them lived. The maids and servants were spared.

Calayn muttered a word, the soldier who was running away from them tripping and falling, backing away as quick as he could.

The shaft of an arrow sprouted from his neck, the man gasping a few times before his fingers went still.

"Spare one," Eragon said as he saw a group of soldiers waiting, weapons drawn.

"For the Empire!" the man at front shouted, his man screaming in battle rage as they charged down the halls.

Kalyn raised his hands, "_Arka, alla fas ligai viv'ian_."

Brilliant streaks of yellow and white lightning flashed from his fingers, striking them all down.

One man gasped with pain as he gripped a bleeding stomach.

Dathal, a handsome, cold-featured dreamwraith, strode forward, gripping the injured man by his collar.

"Where is the lord of Kuasta?" he asked, his eyes empty and heartless.

"Good luck finding him, you bastard," the man said, laughing wetly, coughing up blood moments later.

"I will."

Dathal threw the man effortlessly, the man crashing into the wall and sliding to the floor, unmoving. Blood trailed down from the marble bricks.

"We will have to scour the keep," the dreamwraith growled.

"We will go to the left," Ralmir said, he and his men walking up behind them, weapons drawn. "I will take half, Dalwyn, take the others."

"Yes, sir," the man at his right said, motioning as the men split up.

"I shall take the dreamwraiths and go straight ahead," Eragon said, his little procession of warriors walking through the doors that conveniently shattered into tiny splinters at a single word from Kalyn.

The maids scattered in fright as the grim group strode through the keep.

Dathal glanced at the Lord Rider, Eragon nodding.

"Where is the lord of the city?" he demanded, his sword held at the ready.

"I know where he is," a young maiden squeaked.

The dreamwraith swiftly sheathed his sword, the blade flashing half a breath away from the girl, the attractive maid screaming with fright as she stumbled back.

"You are to address Lord Eragon and such or as Lord Rider, girl," Dathal said, his eyes glaring. "Lead on or you shall regret it."

* * *

><p>Lord Tanwen merely glanced up at the doors slammed open, armed men walking into his office.<p>

"Lord Tanwen, the Varden now controls your city and whatever men you have left are now disarmed and bound in a burning city, the citizens held captive," the man he supposed was the legendary Eragon Shadeslayer said. "I advise you turn over the city to our control and surrender yourself."

"Allow me to finish my writing before I answer your question. I presume you are the famed Eragon Shadeslayer?"

The man to his left flicked his sword under his chin.

"Milord, I suggest we slay him. He is just stalling us for some reason," the cloaked man hissed. "Perhaps men from another city are on their way here."

"No, I am simply finishing today's journal, good sir," Tanwen replied, gently pushing the blade away, accidentally pricking his finger. "I wish for it to be at least mostly complete should I not live past today."

"Allow him to finish, Dathal," Eragon said.

The blade reluctantly came away, the man named Dathal scowling.

Soon, the lord of the city put down the quill, crossing his fingers in front of him.

"Now, what may I do for you?"

He saw the elf at his right glance at Eragon, her brows furrowing.

"Surrender the city."

A few more minutes…

"I am afraid I cannot do that, Dragon Rider. I am bound by oath to never surrender the city."

Dathal's blade flickered up, "I told you, my lord, he is just stalling."

Eragon's eyes glazed over a few seconds.

"Finish him off."

Tanwen's throat went dry.

"Dragon Rider, you need me to surrender the city."

Eragon turned, "You are stalling me. Saphira tells me of an Imperial army coming from Narda's direction. Dathal, make it quick, I shall need you upon the field of battle."

"Of course, milord."

The Dragon Rider walked out the doors as did his followers.

Dathal raised his sword.

"Come now, what did I ever do to harm you?" Tanwen asked, desperately seeking for something he could use as a weapon.

Then he saw one of his guards quietly walk over towards the man, sword drawn.

Victory.

"Silence, you bastard," Dathal hissed.

The man stabbed.

And then blinked as his blade glanced off the air.

Blood dripped down from the air where the blade had struck.

Dathal spun around, his sword flashing through the man's arm, the man almost getting out a scream of agony before he found a sword in his windpipe.

He strode to the lord of the city who now was cowering against the corner.

"You saw too much, my lord."

The blade stabbed down.

* * *

><p>Dathal turned around when he heard the frightened yelp and a pattering of light feet.<p>

The maid, dammit!

He sprang into the air, rocketing after the young girl, tackling her to the ground before his sword found its tip resting at the base of her throat.

Her huge eyes stared up at him with horror.

Rhoslyn had never seen a man as handsome as the Dragon Rider, but this man was almost close.

But it was hard to concentrate on noticing how handsome he was when he looked so frightening and lethal.

"You are stupid and foolish," he growled. "Do not dare run from me, girl. On your feet."

She did so, backing up against the wall, watching the sword.

He sheathed it.

"Move, and do not do anything you will regret.

As she walked, she tried to find the other maids, but they all stared at the man with fright.

He was not tall or imposing, but his aura was one of death. She could almost smell the grave on him.

He shoved her to the ground, "You stay there!" he snapped, drawing his blade as he ran at four soldiers.

She prayed he would die here.

But watched with even more horror as he easily slashed the first man down, using his foot to break the wrist of another, taking the falling blade in his hand to fight with two swords, a skill she knew was rare, but here he was, wielding them flawlessly.

Two bloodied bodies dropped to the ground as he tossed down the other blade, the metal clattering on the floor.

He turned to her.

"Up."

She was too scared to do so.

He strode over to her, her eyes transfixed to the bloody sword.

He gripped her by the collar of her maid gown, hauling her up until she was nearly a handbreadth above the ground, her fingers winding around his fingers.

His eyes burned.

Then he let go.

"Do not make me do worse, girl. Follow me."

* * *

><p>When the soldiers from Narda saw the burning city and the Varden soldiers standing on the ramparts, the hellish, gore-smeared blue dragoness resting atop the keep, they turned back, marching away.<p>

The Imperial soldiers who survived were bound and chained.

Arya walked to them, eyeing them dispassionately.

"What do we do with them?" she asked coldly.

Calayn observed them.

"Kill them," the dreamwraith shrugged. "It would take too much of our supplies to feed them and keep them alive. Spare the trouble I say."

A few soldiers stared up at her with horror.

"But you are Varden! You would kill us to spare supplies?" a man wailed.

The dreamwraith glared at him until he fell silent.

"I am not Varden. I obey the command of Lord Eragon alone, no simple human may tell me what I can and cannot do."

"But-…"

Calayn drew her sword.

"Brother, get the others. I will not let these weaklings live."

* * *

><p>Translation: <em>Fyla Anfílwyn <em>(title) – Empty Fulfillment

_Arka, alla fas ligai viv'ian – _Lightning, let but one live (literally means: _Lightning, but one let live_)

* * *

><p>TN: Everything is mine. LOL<p>

* * *

><p>AN: Yes, that is the way of the dreamwraiths. The weak are killed, the strong survive. Calayn may be a sweet woman off the battlefield, but on the grounds stained with blood, she is harsh and cold as Galbatorix.<p>

SOOOO, now you know a little more about the dreamwraiths ^_^


	10. Eka eddyr du Sundavar

**Chapter 9 – **_**Eka eddyr du Sundavar**_

"_Shadows are a safer place than the light, for in shadow, there is utter absolution. But in light, there is always the shadow that those who dwell in it cast."_

_~Orik, forty-third king of the Dwarven Clans, foster brother of Eragon Shadeslayer_

Eragon strode through the charred city of Kuasta, his cerulean-hued cloak swirling behind him as his metal-clad feet made tiny clicking noises on the ground, Brisingr gently swaying at his hip. Soldiers cleared the path for him, many of them bowing to him or saluting as was due respect. He gave a slight nod to them, searching for Calayn.

He was furious.

Dead furious.

Calayn stood at the edge of a burning house, using her magic to gently rain mist over it, putting out the fire without totally destroying the building with a blast of water.

_Calayn, we need to speak._

She spun, giving him a warm smile, "_Tiaran_!" she called out, running over to him.

He indicated for them to leave the city limits.

She saw the anger in his eyes, and nodded, sobering very quickly.

Right when they were out of earshot, he gripped her arms in his, the wince giving away the strength of his hold.

"What were you thinking?" he hissed dangerously. "You slaughtered two-thousand unarmed soldiers who had surrendered themselves! Do you think something like this would have escaped my ears?"

She looked up at him, and he could see the shame and fear flitting in those ethereally beautiful eyes he hated to look at. They were too distracting.

"Eragon…"

"No!" he snapped. "You do not understand, you may not be part of the Varden, you may not have sworn allegiance, but your allegiance lies with _me_, and I _am_ a part of the Varden! Now we will have rumors of us killing unarmed soldiers for no reason other than to save provisions, do you carry air in your mind instead of thought?"

Hurt flickered in her eyes, and she bowed her head, pain filtering from her mental barriers.

Only then he could get a grip of his anger and felt the profoundness of the words he had just said and how much they had hurt her.

"Calayn…"

"No," she whispered. "You are right, milord, I did not think. The soldiers were harmless, but the way they begged made me enraged. Forgive me, I accept any punishment you deem necessary, milord."

He gazed down at her.

"Alright. Here is your punishment, Calayn."

She looked up at him, tiny orbs of liquid at the corners of her eyes.

"Tomorrow, you will come with me and we shall walk through the forest and I shall teach you how to hunt."

She frowned.

"What, milord?"

"And to add to your punishment, you shall never call me milord again."

"But…"

"That is your punishment," he smiled, gently leaning down to kiss her cheek. "And if you had a little sense in your mind, you would do it."

"Milord, but…"

"Do you want to learn to hunt in the innocent? And do you want me to make you never call me 'milord' again?" he asked.

She slowly shook her head, "Not really…"

He smirked, "Then it is punishment enough. I forgive you."

"Thank you," she murmured.

* * *

><p>Arya ran through the streets, "Soldier! Where is Rider Eragon?" she called as she neared a group of soldiers putting out a flame.<p>

"He went out of the city with Lady Calayn, milady!" a soldier called out, sweat dripping from his brow as he took a quick break to wipe it off his face. "He did not look all that happy, if you wish to know."

"Thank you!"

She quickly uttered a spell, a gentle mist of rain dripping from the air, putting out the fire as the soldiers saluted to her in thanks.

She found Eragon talking quietly with Calayn, her fingers curled around his thick biceps, something she still found disconcerting at times. Being used to elven company, she was not used to seeing such definition in muscles, for all elves were lithe and strong-limbed by nature, but tone was missing.

She stiffened when Calayn laughed, leaning up to playfully peck his cheek before pulling him towards the city, light-hearted.

"_Shur'tugal_!" she said, striding over to him wiping all her emotions from her face.

He looked up, his smile vanishing when he saw her somber expression.

"Arya, is something amiss?"

She shook her head, "Nasuada wishes to see us, come swiftly."

Without a word, she turned on her heel and ran to the keep, "Come! I may not know anything amiss, but perhaps she does!"

* * *

><p>Indeed she did.<p>

"Rumors of a new ally of Galbatorix's," she said quietly.

As if anyone could hear them through the wards.

"We only know they wear red or white leathers and seem to be either women or men, no matter, and that one is in Teirm. I wish for someone to go investigate it, and they will have to be strong. Very strong."

Eragon instantly stood, Arya rising at the same moment. When she saw Eragon go to his feet, Calayn stood also, Kalyn following her example.

"I am not all that surprised," Nasuada said wryly.

Eragon motioned for Calayn and Kalyn to sit, which they did uncertainly.

Blödhgarm raised a hand, "_Shur'tugal_, if you do not mind me saying this, I wish you would at least take two dreamwraiths along. I do not feel comfortable sending you to one of the Empire's strongest cities with only Arya for protection, and only you to protect her."

The elven princess bristled, opening her mouth to find Eragon's finger over it.

She glared daggers at him, daring him to keep his finger where it was and risk losing it to her teeth. He ignored it.

"Two riders could easily escape Kuasta unnoticed. Four, that will attract attention. We must keep the story as realistic as possible, four riders getting out of a fallen city will not be as likely as just two."

A few members of the Varden council nodded. The council consisted of the leaders, including King Orrin, King Orik, Eragon, Saphira, Blödhgarm, and a few other prominent officers and leaders among the rebellion. After the battle at Feinstar, it was decided instead of having a dozen or so leaders leading different factions, it would be best to have a single council where everything could be discussed without having to worry about orders from other leaders that might get in the way.

"Does anyone disagree with the choice of Rider Eragon and Lady Arya to go investigate these rumors?" Nasuada asked.

"I would go had my height not been a strange hindrance," Orik commented, getting a small amount of laughter.

Eragon gave a small smile, "I would let you go if your head was a bit higher so you could laugh more effectively at this new ally."

Orik gave a beard-filled smile, eyes twinkling.

"Then you shall laugh for me too, aye?"

The Dragon Rider smiled, "Aye."

* * *

><p>Eragon swiftly packed his bags, relating what was going on to a curious Saphira.<p>

Well, she was curious until she heard she was not going, and then it turned from curiosity to straight-out rebellion.

_Saphira, come now, we want to see what they are like, not slaughter them_, he teased, kissing her snout. _Anyways, I shall be fine, it is Teirm, not Urû'baen. Do not worry too much about me, my love._

_I always worry, Eragon._

He smiled, throwing on his traveling cloak, slinging his bag over his back, _Take care, I shall be back within ten days' time._

_Very well. If I hear of any danger, I shall storm the gates myself._

_If they knew your threat, they would never lay a hand on me, my queen of the skies_, he laughed, hugging her tightly before running out.

Arya was already on her mare, dressed in simple clothes, her black hair tied back under her cloak's hood as she nodded at him, the soldiers of the Varden watching them.

"Safe journey, sir," Jörmundur said, handing him the reins to Snowfire.

"Fate never loved me, brother," Eragon smirked, leaping onto his trusty stallion, gently pressing his heels to the great beast's sides, the horse moving forward at a gentle trot.

* * *

><p>Saphira watched her beloved rider ride off with the princess and had a sudden urge to make him stay.<p>

Flashes of tortured scream she knew too well.

The slicing sound of flesh against blade.

The laughter of a cold, cold soul.

Dripping of blood added with a ragged cry.

The dragoness shook her head.

_By the stars, when did I start worrying this much?_ she sighed with a puff of smoke.

Spreading her wings, she took to the air to go find some deer to hunt. Hunting always was fun and kept her in shape.

By the time she caught sight of her quarry, the visions were already forgotten.

* * *

><p>Translation: <em>Eka eddyr du Sundavar <em>(title) _– _I am the Shadows

_Shur'tugal _– Dragon Rider

* * *

><p>TN: everything is Paolini's~<p>

* * *

><p>AN: yes, one of my shorter chapters o.o;; and I personally thought this chapter was bit too hurried and bit too content-less and point-less, but it really is just a transitional chapter to get to this part many of you ExA fans will find horrifying, but bear with me o.o;; I promise it will end up well ^^ promiseeee *holds out thumb*<p>

* * *

><p>Restrained freedom – You like reviewing… I like you. XD I hope you don't mind the sugar… ^^;; and about Saphira, I just like to think she considers him an enemy and doesn't really like him like Eragon respects and feels bad for Murtagh because he was one of the main reasons Glaedr died. So… yeah. AND THANK YOUUU D: I accidentally messed up, I changed those bits ^^ thank you thank you thank you<p>

Eragon is… chivalrous, he has to be, he's in a game of politics as much as he is in a game of swords and spells, and thank you for the language compliment ^^ and about Selene/Eragon/Murtagh… yeah, I need to have her appear again with advice about the Red Rider XD thanks for pointing that out to mee :D

And remember in… chapter five was it, that Eragon said to Arya they were to keep the dreamwraiths a secret to have them be a surprise force that Galbatorix doesn't know about to give them an advantage in the last battle, so it's either keep the man captive, which would be pretty pointless seeing that he doesn't know as much as others can, because lets keep it real, Kuasta isn't that important of a city, however big it is. Calayn acts on Eragon's orders, but he trusts her to do the right thing, so he gives her much more leash and freedom, and they've become quick friends with just as quick minds, and trust me, Dathal kills only because he needs to, they spare the women and children because even angry dreamwraiths have morals too XD

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><p>Pepper – thank youuuu! :D your review meant a lot to me ^^ hope you like the rest of my story that will soon be appearing on XD<p>

* * *

><p>EminemBitches – LAWLLL XD thanks<p>

* * *

><p>Sable1212 – agreed but extra enemies is alright, right? XDXDXD lol, trust me, I will not think of adding any "" allies to Eragon's side, just to Galbatorix's, and they will have much more diverse of a history than the dreamwraiths and Ralmir's Lathari soldiers.<p>

* * *

><p>Cara meiffert – did I ever mention I love Cara? XDXD<p>

"_If there's no one we need to kill, why are we going there?"_ XD oh Cara, Cara, Cara

But thank youuu, I really enjoy Terry Goodkind's books, he really is an amazing writer and his books are so good~


	11. Ansaëro

**Chapter 10 - _Ansaëro_**

"_The line between wrong and right is like the line between water and sand, it always changes, and there is that spot which is wet and is sand. It is a fine line to walk, a line that does not exist."_

_~Oromis, one of the last dragon riders of the First Order_

Eragon rubbed his eyes tiredly, looking at Arya, "Are you tired? Teirm lies just beyond that range of hills," he said.

It had been a long ride, and Snowfire and Evandara were both tired and worn out, though the two horse s resolutely strode on.

She raised an eyebrow, "I am Elfkind, Eragon. I do not tire as quickly as you do."

"Do not start this debate again," he groaned. "But I shall concede, I am more tired than you clearly. While I am tired enough to fall asleep on a treetop, you look as if you could destroy a dragons and still have enough strength to defeat me in a couple dozen duels."

She almost smiled, but the ghost of happiness left as soon as it came.

"You may sleep against Snowfire, I can hold you in place with a spell."

"Then it shall be harder, for you may be the stronger of us two, but I am the one who lies most convincingly," he smirked.

She glared, "I am a diplomat, I am sure I can lie better than you."

She frowned when he laughed, "See? I lied right there and you fell for it, mistress diplomat," he winked.

This time he was rewarded with a small smile, "I shall give you that, Eragon, but for some reason I feel like that was also a lie."

He pouted, "Caught in the act."

Arya gave a mischievous grin, "Come, I shall lie more convincingly to the guard."

"But I am much more convincing! You are too frightening, at least I can put the innocent youth look!" he called, Snowfire leaping forward.

"Innocent? With eyes that glint like that?" she teased.

"My eyes glint with innocence and absolute truthfulness!" he protested.

She just laughed and all his playful bantering fled with the sound.

It was just…. Gorgeous.

She was gorgeous.

With the wind in her hair, her hood pushed back, a smile upon her lips, her eyes partly closed from her laughter, she looked like a simple angel.

He just chuckled, and rode on.

* * *

><p>The guards warily let them approach, "Hail! State your names and business in Teirm!" one called out.<p>

Eragon raised a hand, "Hail! Name's Richard, Richard Smithson! Me and my wife, Stella, are running from the Varden in Kuasta!"

They had agreed that it was too hard to act as brother and sister, Arya with her black hair, Eragon with his fair hair, him with warm, mocha-brown eyes, her with harsh, calculative green, a paler complexion while he was tan from farming. Even though they had both blunted their ears, given themselves more blocky, human features, making themselves seem more normal, they were both still inhumanly fair and beautiful, and to compare them and call them alike was like trying to compare water and fire.

_Oh yes they are both nature's destroyers. So I suppose me and Arya are both fate's swords_, he thought sarcastically.

Emotionally, too. Arya acted with her cool composure, Eragon with his passionate and impulsive habits to follow his heart while his female companion took things with a diplomat's view.

In other words, anything that wasn't a problem had the potential to be one, be prepared to end that problem.

The soldier straightened, "Kuasta fell?"

Arya nodded, "Yes, sir, I don't know when, but the scouts came back with reports of the Varden's numbers, but no one but me and my husband and a few others listened and left the city. We saw the smoke a few leagues back."

The soldiers groaned with frustration, "Those bastard rebels don't know when to get a point, if only Galbatorix would crush them like he could. Narda's army passed a day or so ago with reports that Kuasta had fallen, but I hoped they were wrong."

Eragon nodded, sighing, "I had friends back in Kuasta, I wished they had left. I hope the Varden doesn't kill them, they say that those rebels have a strange sense of honor."

The soldiers shrugged, "Go in, the inn is straight ahead."

"Fate watch over you, sir," Eragon said, tipping his head as the soldier's companion gave a polite touch to the brow.

They found the stable boy, paying him as the young man hurried off, talking softly to the horses, walking into the inn.

They rented a room, which—to Eragon's abstract horror—held only one bed, a desk, a room that had running warm water, and a small wardrobe.

The part that horrified him was the "one bed" bit of it.

Arya watched him with one brow raised as he quickly moved the chair out of the way, "I shall sleep on the floor?" he asked hopefully.

A few weeks ago, before Feinstar, he might have been blushing to find he was to sleep in the same room, not even considering they would have to share a bed the size of a military cot. It might have been exciting and nerve-racking, but right now, he was not all that interested in sharing a bed with the woman who had repeatedly turned his affections away and considered him a friend.

_I should have brought Calayn_, he thought to himself, groaning internally. At least he was comfortable with the dreamwraith; he might have even enjoyed sleeping beside her, talking to her quietly into the night, but not with _the_ Arya Dröttningu of his dreams and nightmares.

She frowned, "Are you that eager to stay away from me, Eragon?"

He blushed, "No, but I was inferring you would like your space, and the bed is not all that large."

Her eyebrow rose.

"I believe it shall comfortably fit both of us. I will not have the last free Dragon Rider sleeping on the hard floor, and I doubt you would let me do the same."

"The very thought of it chills my bones," he assured.

She gave a smirk that was cute and somewhat playfully sinister.

"I do not bite, Eragon Shadeslayer."

"You have not proven that, you looked ready to when I silenced you at the council."

She shook her head, hiding a smile as she motioned for him to turn around, undoing the clasps for her shirt as he obediently did so, searching his bag for another tunic, not willing to sleep in the same tunic he had ridden in for the past four days. Finding none, he sighed, ripping off the leather shirt to wash it in the basin a few times, scrubbing it clean before hanging it on the back of a chair to dry, washing off the sweat from his body.

He glanced at her to find her in a thin nightgown that let her arms and slender legs feel the night breeze, her limbs nearly completely exposed.

He prayed the moon was not bright enough to show his blushing cheeks.

"You did not bring another tunic?"

"I did not think to, but I did bring a rain-blocking cloak and another pair of riding pants. I should have let Saphira tell me what to pack," he grumbled.

"She would have made you pack five swords."

"She would," he agreed readily, drying his strong back with a towel. "Do you mind if I sleep without a tunic?"

She shrugged, lying down, her fingers gently twirling a lock of hair, something he had never seen her do before. It was a normal girl habit, Roran had told him. But Arya was not a normal girl.

Stars, she wasn't even a girl, she was a woman, an elven, beautiful, elven woman who was over a century old.

Even with human-like features, it was impossible to ignore how beautiful she still was, though she had sharpened a few of her features. It almost seemed to accent her beauty, not dull it.

A simple ring encircled her marriage finger like the one around his, three bands of gold wrapped around in a braided spiral. They had quickly stopped by a village's blacksmith to ask for them, quickly haggled with a price, and rode off.

It felt strange even to act as her husband.

She scooted over to give him a good half of their bed, and he lay down, putting an arm under his head as he used the other to scratch his hair in a nervous habit.

"You are nervous?" she asked.

"Just a tad bit," he grumbled.

She chuckled.

They lay in silence as the wind rustled through the open window and the leaves of the tree that grew by their window.

"What do you wish to do after the war?"

"If we win?" he asked tiredly.

"No, _when_," she corrected.

He shrugged.

"I know not what to do. My life has revolved around this war and I can think of nothing but the war… But if—when—we defeat that black-hearted king… perhaps I shall fly across the waters with Saphira and the dreamwraiths. Angela foretold I would never set foot upon Alagaësian land again. Perhaps I shall find a new land to live in."

He did not mention that he wished that by the end of the war—or his life—he would be at least able to hold her like he wished to. To see his feelings reciprocated, but he knew that was a dream he had yet to accomplish, one that would not be wrought any time soon.

He looked over at her, "And you, Arya? What do you think you would do once the war is over?"

"Should I live, you mean," she said softly.

He smiled, "As long as I have a say, Arya Dröttningu, you shall live to see Galbatorix smote upon the ruins of Urû'baen, and the elves changing that cursed place into a beautiful city once more called Ilirea, and see the people of Alagaësia flourish under a banner of freedom and peace."

"That is a heavy promise you make, Eragon Shadeslayer," she smiled. "But I am much like you. After the war, I know not what to do. Ellesméra never felt like home. Perhaps I shall leave Alagaësia alongside you."

He smiled dreamily, "Imagine… absolutely nothing but the wind in your hair, the fresh scent of the ocean, flying into the sunset, with just the stars to guide us in our way."

"A new beginning, a new life, flying away from the past, letting the celestial lights guide us to the future," Arya sighed. "By the stars, it sounds like a poem too beautiful and too wonderful to become true."

"I would fight a thousand black kings to see it come true," he murmured.

To his surprise, he felt her fingers wind around one of his, bringing it up between them as she turned over on her side, beautiful emerald eyes capturing his gaze.

He felt no attraction. He felt… a strange stirring, as if he was talking to a friend he had left behind ages ago, and found just now lying down beside him in a bed. He tried, and he felt his ever-present love for her, but the other feeling kept it locked behind.

"Hold onto that dream, Eragon," she murmured. "Your humanity—my humanity, flies on the wings of dreams and wishes."

Then she kissed the back of his hand, a chaste, gentle brush of lips against skin.

"I shall look forward to that day, friend."

_You do not know half the truth of your words_, he thought softly as he nodded.

"Goodnight, Arya."

* * *

><p>When he woke up the next morning, he found an adorable Arya sleeping beside him.<p>

One arm under her head, the other hand under her neck, partly curled up, lips curled slightly in a tiny smile.

She was beautiful. As always.

He quickly washed his face and most his body, sitting down in front of the windows, drawing the shades back.

The inn was huge, five stories tall, surrounded by a small garden. Apparently the "Lady of Teirm" liked gardens and life in general, despite the pain she could supposedly give and heal. Their room was high enough to avoid having people look in through the open window, but low enough to be safe, and still give a good view of the city and garden.

He closed his eyes, trying to calm his rapidly thinking mind like Oromis had taught him. He quietly murmured poems, songs, and laments under his breath, his mind circling around the words, wrapping around them, embracing them, pulling their meaning from the very heart of the words he was saying.

Poem after song, lament after lay, the words flowed out of his lips like water over a cleft, rushing out, eager to be released into the world and air around him.

Time became alien to him, his concept of the meaning vanishing as the thoughts rushed and calmed, eddied and turned, drawing huge landscapes in his mind, the water of the ocean, the majestic mountains in _Du Weldenvarden_, the air around him as he streaked through the winds upon Saphira's back.

When he finally opened his eyes, he found the sun still hiding behind the Spine. He turned to see Arya watching him, a thoughtful look upon her beautiful features.

"I never thought of meditating like that," she said softly. "I always tried, but Oromis never could teach me to calm myself like you do so easily."

He chuckled, "If calming myself like I do is easy, then it would be simple to lift up a mountain and fill it with the waters of the oceans and seas. What time is it?"

"Not five," she said after glancing at the sun. Or the lack of it.

"Sit down here," he said. "Let me teach you."

As she did so, he rummaged through his memory for a famous poem Arya probably had memorized.

"Lay of Eragon?" he asked.

She nodded, closing her eyes, her lips letting the words flow out of her mouth.

Soon, without conscious thought, he found himself muttering the words along with her, his lips moving on their own accord.

"Thus fell his foe at his feet, his fate one Eragon would soon meet, upon a field of dying screams, his last words would be his dreams …"

He sat down by her, letting his mind flow with hers as she willingly entwined her thoughts with his, their voices blending perfectly.

"A sad collection of broken hearts, a quiet life of shattered starts, he helped them all, catching every single fall…"

Hours passed, turning from the Lay of Eragon to the Lament of Vrael, the Lament of Vrael to the Fall of the Riders, poem after poem, he recited them with her, singing the songs, his soft alto vibrantly mixing with her beautiful soprano.

When the last notes of the Song of Vándil faded into nothingness, Arya's eyes fluttered open, taking a deep breath.

She smiled.

Truly, beautifully smiled.

"I have never felt so calm," she whispered. "Stars… I cannot believe it…"

She turned to him, and gently took his hand.

"You are a rare, rare man, Eragon Shadeslayer. _Elrun eka_."

Those words, and that single touch, was worth more to him than a thousand of Calayn's embraces and kisses.

And so they stayed that way, hands in each other's hold, watching the sun rise, nothing but calm currents of thought rippling through their minds.

* * *

><p>Gossiping was a horrible, useless, pointless, silly thing.<p>

It was no wonder many of the elves hated it.

But here she was, forced to endure the endless chatter of her new companions for any information that was useful.

So far, the only useful bits were something that went along these lines.

"Heavens, did you hear that our Lady of Teirm is called the Hand of Death, and she slaughtered thirty rebellious soldiers by herself?"

And: "I heard she seduced Galbatorix and then threw him out! Without even bedding him! Why, if she can do that, why doesn't she just toss him off the throne and take it herself? She's fair at least, she listens to us, and doesn't give a biscuit about any lies! Anyways, she is the most gorgeous thing _in the entire world_! Even those prissy elves would be jealous!"

So, all she learned in that hour of insistent talk was that she was called "The Hand of Death," she could apparently kill thirty well-trained soldiers single-handedly, and she could seduce Galbatorix.

And she was pretty.

_Not that helpful_ in other words.

"So, Stella, is your husband handsome?" a woman named Elene asked, grinning.

"The handsomest in the world," Arya said, putting on her best dreamy look.

Thank the stars Eragon wasn't there to hear that, because she would never hear the end of it.

"I would think so, I would give anything to be as gorgeous as you, darling," Lyre sighed.

"You _are_ gorgeous," Arya exaggerated.

Truth be told, Lyre was pretty, she had slender limbs, pleasantly buxom, and had eyes that glittered beautifully.

Then she saw Eragon striding through the crowd, a smile on his lips though his eyes were dark with worry.

"Richard!" she squealed, trying not to break into uncontrollable laughter at the sound of her own voice.

She was having too much fun with this acting, and no doubt he was trying not to laugh.

She peppered his face with kisses, her arms slung around him intimately.

"Hey, Stella," he smiled, his lips brushing her cheek. "I found something you would absolutely _adore_, come see it?"

"Of course," she chirped, following with him.

When no one was looking, his eyes flickered to the alley, and they slipped in.

"I saw her," he whispered. "By the stars, I do not wish to fight her anytime soon until I can defeat Galbatorix. She feels… so… sinister, so malicious, the soldiers do not respect her as much as they fear her. She looks like hell incarnate."

"They call her the 'Hand of Death,' I would expect so," Arya muttered. "I also heard she seduced Galbatorix and then threw him out without even bedding him.

He chuckled, "Well, our black-hearted king must have a broken black heart now."

They quickly relayed information, talking about plans for a bit after. There wasn't much else to talk about, and soon, he walked her back to her friends like a loving husband would, kissing her softly, "Get something to eat later or find me and I'll buy you something."

"What did you show her, Richard, sir?" Lyre asked shyly.

He smirked and Arya instantly felt the urge to shut him up.

"A nicely cushioned bed that got much warmer than it should have."

He vanished into the crowds leaving a flustered and inwardly furious Arya.

"Oh my lord, I think I'm in love," Elene breathed, the other young women nodding in agreement. "I hope you wouldn't mind if I borrowed him for a night?"

Arya smiled, "I hope you don't mind if I say no?"

"If I had a man like him, I would do more than say no," Elene laughed. "Is he good in bed?"

Gail saved her from the embarrassment of having to answer favorably to that question.

"Good dear, Elene, don't make her blush so much!" the young woman fretted, giving Arya a cup of water. "Don't worry, sweetheart, we won't steal your man. A pretty thing likes you deserves such a marvelous husband."

Arya just nodded, trying to decide how many times she would throw him out the window later.

* * *

><p>Eragon wandered through the outdoor vendors, stopping every once and a while to talk to the sellers, leaving or buying a small trinket or something that may come in handy later. A few elixirs, some salves, and so on and so forth.<p>

He caught sight of a blacksmith's store, and walked over it, studying the well-crafted weaponry and jewelry. Most of them were simple but held a deadly elegance that most elves loved.

"Best in Teirm," a heavily-muscled man said, grinning widely. "Made from the strongest metal and steel and bronze, and our jewelry is made amongst us, me, a few of my human companions, a few dwarves, and an elven blacksmith. We go through from city to city, and by God, it is a good season to sell weaponry. What you interested in, good sir?"

Eragon picked up a sword, drawing it to hold it ahead of him, nodding his approval at the impossible straight blade, the elegant, scimitar-like curve, the ripples of a flamberge on one side, the side that bent inward.

"'Tis good blade," he said. "Is it made of iron and _dethalos_?"

The man nodded proudly, "You have a good eye, sir," he said. "Iron, shipped from the northern countries with _dethalos_ from the Hadarac, purified ten times, hardened with some tin and steel. The flamberge side'll make the enemy's sword vibrate strangely if you strike with any side, and it will lessen the impact's strength. You seem more like the elegant fighter than the hack-and-slash, if you don't mind me saying, sir."

Eragon shrugged, "Could say so. Name's Richard, Richard Smithson."

"Nice to meet you sir," the blacksmith said, shaking his hand heartily. "They call me Ash, but real name's James Caleson, a family of blacksmiths."

"How much for the blade, James Caleson?" Eragon asked, not wanting to disappoint the kind man.

"Not much, sir, I suppose we could argue over the price as is usual," James laughed.

Eragon's eye caught a dangling piece of jewelry, a graceful necklace made of black and white metal with a blazing red pendant.

James followed his eyes, grinning.

"Called the Heart of Fire, sir, one of our finest pieces."

"_Althera_ and _dëathanal _metal?" Eragon asked with shock. "Is it not a rare cache of precious metals?"

The man smirked, "Best in the world, sir, we get it from across the ocean, about halfway, there's an island we buy it from for a hefty price, but 'course, we sell it for even more, so in the end, it's a win-win," James chuckled. "Pendant's made of a single water ruby we found on one of our voyages, the elf sang that thing into that shape, hence why it's so natural-looking and so beautiful."

"Would fifty gold coins do for both sword and necklace?"

"That be too much, sir, I would say forty," James said.

Eragon smiled, counting out fifty gold coins, "No, perhaps it is, but it is worth more than that to me."

He slipped the few coins he had left into his tunic, handing the man the bag. Fifty gold coins were enough for a mansion and a year's worth of food, but right now, he didn't really care.

The blacksmith hesitated, shrugged, and then set the necklace in a pretty little box, tying it with a beautiful ribbon that was a white silk with random streaks of color through it.

"Good day to you, blacksmith!" Eragon called as he made his way to the inn.

"Bless y'er good heart, sir!" James said, giving a jaunty salute.

* * *

><p>Arya came back to their inn room to find Eragon writing down some things on a piece of parchment. He smiled at her before turning back to his writing. When she looked over his shoulder, she saw a map, labels, and some notes of what they found out about the new "Hand of Death."<p>

"Rest," he said, "I will finish this and then sleep."

She shrugged, quickly changing to lie down on the bed, falling asleep almost instantly.

Eragon set the box on the table, quickly putting a note next to the gift, lying down beside Arya who was fast asleep.

He smiled slightly.

Perhaps this wasn't as bad as he had expected.

And surprisingly, she hadn't gotten revenge for him embarrassing her that evening.

He prayed she wouldn't do anything.

* * *

><p>When Arya woke up, she found the spot next to her vacant, Eragon's cloak and tunic gone. Brisingr rested beside her, a mutual message to use it to protect herself if she needed to.<p>

She pushed herself up, frowning when she saw the box and the piece of parchment on top of it. Quickly walking over to it, she read the note.

_Arya_

_Went out early, might find more things in the morning shadows, be back by nightfall. Happy birthday, my princess._

_Eragon_

She smiled helplessly.

Somehow, the forgetful, foolish Rider had miraculously remembered the exact day.

She gently pulled the ribbon off, and when she opened the box, all thoughts of throwing him out the window fled out of the recesses of her mind.

Only a fool would waste a fortune buying such an expensive necklace.

And because he knew her, she found a small note at the bottom of the piece of parchment.

_Do not ask of the price._

The Dragon Rider definitely knew her.

She swiftly clasped it around her neck, feeling the cool surface of the water ruby resting against her chest.

She had only heard rumors of the necklace, something called the Heart of Fire, or something of the like, and she knew he had thought of her when he had seen the necklace. Perhaps she was a bit _too_ independent.

Oh yes, he definitely knew her.

* * *

><p>Eragon quickly moved off the streets with everyone else as a group of soldiers walked through, following a single woman wearing red leather and frighteningly dangerous-looking crimson gauntlets. Instead of having links for the segments of the fingers, it was made up of dozens of little links, the edges serrated on the top part to stop the fingers from bending backwards and maybe as a more painful blow if she struck with her fists.<p>

The leather stuck to her well-formed body, pleasantly buxom, yet still lithe and he could tell she had barely any extra fat on her, her graceful, strong, predator's stance gave away too much. Muscles rippled under the leather, cold, dark eyes looking over the frightened citizens.

Her eyes caught his, her brows furrowing.

"You," she said, pointing a metal-clad finger at him, her eyes lethally sharp, more piercing than any predator, any dragon, any hawk, it was strange and frightening. "Get out here."

He did so, falling on his knees in what looked like a scared slump.

"Mistress?"

"What is your name" she asked curtly.

"Richard, Richard Smithson, mistress."

Before he could sense the impending danger, he felt her fist crash into his face, throwing him back a few paces as he struck the hard pavement, wincing.

Blood trailed down his face.

"Draw your sword, Rider. Captain, dismiss the citizens, block off this part of the city until I say otherwise."

"Yes, mistress," the soldier said, roaring at the people of Teirm who instantly reacted, fleeing from the streets.

She knelt down by him, her metal gauntlets gripping his collar as she hauled him to his feet.

"Defeat me, Rider, and you and that elven princess go free."

_She knows… by the stars, how does she know?_

He saw a dark smile.

"Draw your sword, or do you fear me?"

_Arya, get out of the city!_ he said, desperately trying to find her presence.

_Eragon?_

_Get out!_

_Where are you? I shall come for you._

_Arya, listen to me, she knows who we are, get out of the city while you can! I order it!_

_Not without you, Eragon Shadeslayer!_

_Dammit, woman, get out of the city!_

He shut her out of his mind.

He drew the sword he had bought the other day, and swung at her, none of the soldiers drawing their weaponry.

Their faith in their mistress was disturbing.

But it was proven to be well-placed.

Her gauntlets caught the blade, her elbow ramming into his bloody face, throwing his head back.

"_Brisingr_!" he snapped, fire streaming out of his hands.

She walked right through it, catching his sword arm in her grip.

Unimaginable pain rocketed up from where her armored fingers touched his limb.

He cried out as the sword dropped from his hands, the pain traveling up his arms and to his chest.

A thousand daggers ripped into his body.

A scream came from somewhere, blood-curdling and unearthly. It took a few moments to figure out that scream was coming from his own throat.

She finally, mercifully drew back her hand, his ragged gasp of relief sounding hollow to his own ears.

"Weakling…" she muttered.

Her fist crashed into his temple, and darkness slowly came over his vision.

* * *

><p>Nasuada leapt to her feet along with half the present Varden War Council as the doors slammed open with a resounding <em>boom<em>.

After Feinstar, it was obvious it would be too hard to maintain such a large force with different leaders leading different factions. Orders could countermand other leaders, so they created a council at the advice of Eragon and Glaedr, both who were still mourning Oromis' death at that time.

Arya and Eragon were missing, as was Orik and Roran, though Roran had been at Surda for some time, leaving for Surda when the army left for Kuasta from Belatona, along with most of his men.

Orrin was gone, as were a few high-ranking officers, but a majority had come with the army that had attacked Kuasta.

But now, Arya stood at the doors, looking like a furious demon.

Her hair was tangled, the dark tresses soaked from the rain pouring outside. Her eyes blazed, but they all could see defeat in her unsure stance.

"Arya?" Nasuada asked softly. "Where…"

"Captured," she snapped hoarsely. "The new ally apparently can defeat Riders."

Dead silence.

Saphira calmly walked over to the elf, _Come, I will help you to your quarters. You need rest, my friend._

* * *

><p>The dragoness padded quietly after Arya, a gentle wing helping the exhausted elf maintain her balance.<p>

_You left him?_

_He told me to, Saphira, you know I would not leave if it was up to me._

_You actually listened to him_, the dragoness thrummed softly.

_He holds higher rank than me now, as Lord of Vroengard and the Riders of the Second Order. And not to mention I have found he has become wiser than I in many ways._

_I can tell you wish to change your decision to leave him._

_Of course I do_, the elven princess groaned. _Stars above, he charged into Helgrind, the maw of hell, to save me from a Shade when he was but a boy, an untrained spellweaver and warrior, and he saved me. Now, I do not help him escape from Teirm, a simple city, and from a woman that is no Shade. What kind of friend am I?_

_One who loves him enough to let him decide his fate._

She bristled.

_Arya, I know you may not love him like he loves you, but in your own special way, you do love him._

The elf sighed.

_Yes. Yes I do. And that is what makes me afraid._

* * *

><p>Translation: <em>Ansaëro <em>(title) _– _Flawed

_Elrun eka – _Thank you

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><p>TN: Just the title belongs to me ^^<p>

* * *

><p>AN: rawrrrr, now time for you ExA fans to like… hide. Because you may not like the next seven-eight-nine-ten chapters or so. ^^;; just bear with me, please? You'll see what I mean.<p>

Now that you met the Hand of Death, you are totally screwed.

* * *

><p>Restrained Freedom – LOL, maybe all of the above? ^^ harharhar<p>

And to quote Éomer~~~ _"Go, search for your friends, but do not dare to hope. It is forsaken in these lands."_

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><p>EminemBitches – LOL, thanks brah, I'll be killing off some people soon. :D<p>

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><p>Iameragonshadeslayer – thank youuu! ^^# I'll try and make sure everyone likes it~<p>

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><p>Dearth Feanor – Thanksss~ and… about the golden hair, I suspect after spending all that time out in the sun it might bleach a little, my hair has a habit of turning from uber dark brown to like, a bit lighter brown.<p>

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><p>Arya – <em>danke shenn~ <em>^^


	12. Eom Néiat Jierda

**Chapter 11 – **_**Eom Néiat Jierda**_

"_If you ever have to torture someone, no matter how cold you are, that person's screams will haunt you for the rest of your life."_

_~Eragon Shadeslayer, Bromsson, last Free Dragon Rider, Heir Lord of Vroengard_

Eragon woke up, finding himself chained, his arms tied to the ceiling, his legs to the ground, making every movement nearly impossible save his neck. His eyes raked over the large room, taking in everything. In one side there was a large bed, a small pit under him, a wardrobe, a door, another door, probably a closet and then the other one being a bathing room or something of the like. A few paces away, there was desk, a rack of weaponry, including two pairs of gauntlets, one white with gold clasps and trim, the other black with gold at the tip of every edge. Every link, every plate trimmed by gold.

"You are awake," the voice said, utterly calm yet with a small tone of excitement under her cold voice.

He turned to see the woman who had been on the streets the other day sitting on a lavishly upholstered chair. Icy, blue-violet eyes stared at him.

"If answers are what you want from me, you chose the wrong man to try to break," Eragon said, wiping every trace of fear away from his face and posture.

"Answers?"

Her laughter was harsh, yet he couldn't help but be attracted to the lilting sound.

"No, Eragon Shadeslayer."

He watched warily as her finger trailed down his bare chest, tracing the hard muscles on his torso.

"I want to break you until you are nothing, my pet. It is the way of the Pact, of the Hands of Death."

He tried in vain not to yell when the same pain that had surged through him yesterday shot through his veins, starting from his stomach, slowly climbing over his body.

"You will never break me," he hissed through gritted teeth.

He could feel skin rip and blood trickle down his bare stomach, soaking into the underclothes that were the only shred of fabric on his whole body.

"From now on, you are to address me as Mistress Sarissa or mistress," she said, her voice almost dripping venom, ice mixed in with the poison.

"Try your best," he growled.

Then he screamed.

His bones shattered where she was touching, his ribs snapping into dozens of pieces, jutting out of his torso as she gently drew her finger up, breaking bone as she went.

"You will thank me in the end, Eragon. Now, what is my name?"

"Mistress Sa… rissa!" he managed between ragged screams.

She smiled, the pain lessening as she brought her hand away, "Now, wasn't that simple? Do not forget to call me that or you shall regret the day your father met your mother."

He felt her lips brush his stomach, and suddenly, the pain started to vanish, the bones popping back into place with a sickening, wet noise, the rips and cuts and bruises fading away until only a ragged mess of thin, white scars were left on his abdomen.

"How?... How did you do that?"

He remembered too late, her fist smashing into his jaw, breaking bone and skin.

"My name?" she growled.

"Mistress Sarissa," he said, his cheeks and jaw hurting with exquisite pain whenever he moved a muscle.

"Do not make me remind you again. But for some reason, I know I will," she grunted. "Now, you are lucky to have me as your mistress. My brothers and sisters are not always as lenient as I. I have heard them give victims Revival and have them disemboweled for forgetting to address them correctly."

She kissed his cheek, and everything healed again.

"Mistress, how do you do that?"

She smiled, "Very good, pet. I am a Hand of Death, we can kill as easily as we can bring life. That is but a little of Restoration's Breath, it heals, but a full breath can convince a person who has been killed recently to come back from the starlit path."

Her laughter rang out at his visible shock.

"You… can bring back to life?"

Right when her arm cocked back, he hurriedly added onto his question, "Mistress."

The arm lowered.

"As long as they have not been dead that long," she said. "But there are other requirements that I will one day show you. First…"

He forced back a shiver as her hand touched his shoulders, metal-clad fingers tapping his back, slowly.

"I will break you into a million pieces."

* * *

><p>Talin sat on the wall, wincing at every scream.<p>

"I am glad she doesn't find us worth breaking," he murmured softly, his companions nodding their agreement. "He's as good as broken if she stays anywhere near him."

Instantly, pain erupted in his head, feeling like a dagger was being run through his skull.

"No! No, forgive me, mistress!" he shrieked, falling to his knees as he gripped his hair, trying to alleviate the pain. "Mistress, please, mercy!"

He could feel her displeasure, but the pain drifted away.

_Do not displease me again, soldier._

"Never, mistress, never again," he rasped as he fell to the ground with a relieved and ragged sigh.

His companions helped him up, "You alright, Tal?" Kel asked.

Talin nodded shakily, stumbling on his first few steps.

He could almost hear her laughter.

* * *

><p>Arya paced back and forth, Calayn, Kalyn, Saphira, Ralmir, and Nasuada watching her, all quietly mulling over the news.<p>

"We attack Teirm from the back," Arya snapped. "We can raid a port and use the ships to cross to Teirm across the bay. The dreamwraiths can fly in without being seen and we can storm the gates."

"Arya, the wards around Teirm were made by Galbatorix, they will reveal us," Kalyn said softly, his gentle words not helping the enraged elf.

"Then we will just storm the gates and bring that cursed city down on their heads!" she growled. "I will not leave the man who saved me countless times, regardless of the danger to his own life, charging into the Gates of Hell to rescue me on the mere notion of a dream! And yet here I am, thanking him by arguing about how to save him!"

"What will you do when you get in the gates?" Calayn asked, her voice quiet and filled with sympathy. "Arya, if Eragon cannot defeat her, no one can. And what if she is not the only one? What if there are more of her… kind?"

"Simple, I slaughter them," Arya said, her eyes blazing furiously.

"I say we move onto Narda," Ralmir said.

Everyone turned on him, venting their pent-up anger by shouting and yelling at him, everyone turning against him in their frustration.

He raised a hand, his death-like calm near-instantly making them shut their mouths.

"I was once a captive of these… Hands of Death. They _are_ powerful, their gauntlets can do things you could not imagine. A mere touch and a small bit of magic from them, and they can shatter your bones. But I survived. I got away, and if I can, Eragon certainly can. We cannot attempt to take Teirm by force, not with the Hand there. My spies report Murtagh is also going to Teirm, and will probably be staying there for a little bit. If Murtagh is anywhere near, we cannot attack, for even Saphira needs her Rider to hope to battle Murtagh and Thorn.

"Also, we are sitting ducks here in Kuasta, there is no way out of this valley. Water behind us, mountains on either side, a narrow pass through them, this is a place too vulnerable to my liking. I say we get out and march on to Narda, take that city. No reports of any Hands there."

No one could dispute his reasoning. Narda was an important port city, and taking it over would mean giving them control of most supply trains coming in from other ports, and if they were lucky, it would give them access to a few ships. That would be a prize worth considering, if the Varden could pirate a few ships from the Empire.

"I do not wish to leave Eragon," Arya said resolutely.

"Then, by all means, go join him in the dungeon and make his inevitable escape much harder than it would be," Ralmir said, his voice dead-serious.

Arya glared at him, "Are you saying I am a liability?"

"If you went, Eragon would worry more about you, and in the end, should you get caught, you would be more than a liability. You would be a lever to breaking Eragon. I do not dispute that you are a strong warrior and a very powerful ally, Arya Dröttningu, but right now, you are the last thing he needs."

"I do see the logic of your reasoning, captain, but I agree with Princess Arya. I do not wish to leave behind our most valuable warrior and a close friend," Nasuada said.

The captain finally lost his cool

"Dammit, would you moronic bastards listen to me?" he roared, shocking everyone into silence. "I have known Eragon the longest out of all of you, I have watched him grow up, I knew his father, his mother, his heritage, I know practically there is to know about that boy! And if there is one thing he is, he is stubborn, and he will _not_ break! I have more faith in him than all of you put together, dammit, would you stop talking like he has already been broken and that he is a damsel in distress waiting to be rescued? He would scoff at you all, worrying about him when he would gladly give his life for the Varden, not have the Varden give its life to him! Get a damn grip of yourselves, you fools!"

Saphira's wing gently touched Ralmir's shoulder.

_As much as it pains me to say this, Ralmir is correct._

The captain let out a quiet whisper of relief, touching Saphira's wing gratefully.

He turned to Arya.

The elven princess sighed, rubbing her temples.

"I shall go take a walk."

She gave a weak smile, "Do not worry, Ralmir. I see what you mean, I will not try and go save him by myself."

Saphira walked out after Arya, wordlessly following her friend.

* * *

><p><em>Arya, I know you worry for him as much as I do, but we must have faith. Ralmir is right, if anyone can escape from the starlit path with his hard head, it is Eragon.<em>

_He saved me hundreds of times, yet here I am, not even trying to help him escape something I could have saved him from earlier! It does not feel right, Saphira, I do not wish to leave him behind to face that Hand of Death alone…_

Saphira could see the small tear before Arya's hand flickered, brushing the tear away vehemently.

_You care for Eragon greatly._

_Saphira, though I have known him for little over seven months… how could anyone not care for him? He is the most selfless man I have ever known…_

_I know. Let us just pray for his strength._

_I actually pray he breaks._

Saphira looked at the elf with shock, _What?_

Arya shook her head softly, burying her face in her hands.

_I do not want to even think of him being tortured. Eragon can slay Shades, but how can he kill someone who has sworn herself to Death itself? I do not want him to be hurt, stars, I do not wish for him to even get a cut, and here I am, letting him be tortured and broken…_

Saphira's wings gently enveloped the elf as the dragoness lay down on her scaled belly, drawing Arya close to her warm flanks.

_Shhh… sleep, little one._

_I do not think I can._

The dragon carefully licked Arya's cheek, laying her head by Arya, allowing the elf to use her head as a scaly pillow, _Dream of Ellesmera, not of anything else. The beauty of _Du Weldenvarden_, nothing else. The trees, the birds flitting around the branches, the call of the wolves, the rustle of leaves… the mating songs of morning birds, the golden sunlight of the early sun streaming through the trees…_

* * *

><p>Eragon gasped with relief when her kisses healed the wounds she had given, ignoring when Sarissa struck him.<p>

"I never told you that you could make any sounds," she snapped.

He closed his lips, relishing the way the pain vanished without a single trace.

She reached up, tapping a finger against the chain, the shackles around his wrists snapping open as he unsteadily fell to the ground, his feet splashing into the blood in the pit.

His blood.

Now he understood why there was a pit under him.

"You will lie down on your back, on those cuts and bruises. I am too tired to heal, I have used enough magic today," she said coldly. "There will be a containment bind, move too much, you will feel the touch of the gauntlet in your mind, and believe me, that is much worse. Now, on your back, beside my bed."

He tiredly obeyed, wincing when he felt the cold stone intensify the pain he felt from the bloodied, butchered thing that was his back. She had healed all the bones, and in the process, had closed up the wounds, but still the scabs would scrape and bleed, and they still hurt like there was no tomorrow.

Hopefully there was no tomorrow. At least Arya was not here to feel what he was.

A fist flew out of nowhere, striking his cheek, splitting skin, but the impact softened as to not break his jaw.

"Do not think of her."

"Mistress?"

She scowled at him, "You know of who I speak of. I know what you think of, pet. Need I remind you that I can hear every thought in your mind?"

She walked to the wardrobe, casually stripping off her bloodied clothes, using the water in a basin to wash the red stains off her gauntlets and skin. She hung the metal gloves on the rack, and let out a quiet sight. Tossing her bloodied clothes into another basin of water, she opened the wardrobe, showing a pretty simple collection of clothes. A black uniform, probably a match to the black gauntlets, hung in the wooden chest, next to a white one, two of those, and three red ones. A few gowns, white, surprisingly, a pink one, a red one, and a few night clothes, she seemed like an important person to the Empire, but she did not have a room full of clothes.

She pulled a simple nightgown over her head, opaque and made of a white silk that shimmered in the moonlight. She strode over, flopping down on her bed, watching him with eyes that were hidden in the darkness, though the irises slightly glowed a color that was somewhere between violet and blue, though more inclined towards violet and purple. He found it strangely pretty and alluring.

He could see her lips curl into a smile.

"You think my eyes are pretty, pet? Truthfully?"

"Yes, mistress. I have never seen violet eyes before."

She looked genuinely pleased.

"After a breaking, your eyes will change colors," she said. "Mine used to be blue, but after I killed my trainer, they shifted to violet."

She reached over, taking his chin in her hands, tilting his face towards her.

"A pity… I personally find your eyes very attractive, pet."

"Thank you, mistress."

She pulled her hand back, the flawless skin a few shades lighter than his, fair and her arms slender, yet she had proven over and over they held lethal strength.

"Now, sleep. Tomorrow your breaking will resume, and I shall make you rue the day you were born."

"Mistress? May I ask a question?"

"Hmm? Why not, I rather like pets who ask questions. Others hate that and slaughter then straight out. What do you want to know?"

"Am I the first person you have tried to break, mistress?"

She laughed, "No, I have broken hundreds of people, pet. But I will admit this to you now, I am impressed, thoroughly impressed. Not many people can even survive the first hour of my… 'training.' Yet you have survived a day, and all I can get you to do is call me 'Mistress,' and even that took hours."

"I listen to you, do I not, mistress?"

She smirked, "Only because you fear the pain I can give you should you not obey me. If I did not hurt you, you would not listen to me. But that shall change. Now sleep, my pet."

It was hard, but he didn't want to feel her wrath should he not be able to, so he forced himself to sleep.

His dreams were no easier on him than she.

* * *

><p>Translation: <em>Eom Néiat Jierda <em>(title) – To not Break

* * *

><p>TN: Paolini's words. XD been a while when I used just his words…<p>

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><p>AN: OKKKKK, mwahahahaa, so say hello to Hand of Death, Mistress Sarissa, the bane of every living being and of death itself. Even death fears what she can do to it, for once in the hands of Mistress Sarissa, death cannot escape into its realms, nor can he wish for death, for that is what he is. You will come to… understand her. I hope. ^^ next chappie shall be in third person POV, mostly centered around Sarissa :) and of course, my little parts from the other characters ^-^<p>

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><p>Restrained Freedom – now you know the beginning of what I'll do ^^ and trust me, she'll speak of her history, and at the end of the story, I'll upload a chapter that explains the dreamwraiths, the Hands of Death, and everything else that may confuse people~<p>

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><p>Madddogg789 – LOL, that is an idea, but trust me, I have a different connection that will hurt Eragon more than having her be his aunt~ and… really? You think its going too fast?... sorry o.o;; I'll try to change that, but things are going to change much, much more<p>

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><p>Strong Hammer – thanksss!~<p>

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><p>Eragonfan123454321 – LOL, I'm working on it, I need to fix the next… four chapters or so, I have them all written out, just need to do a few tweaks~<p>

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><p>Darth Feanor – thank youuu~ :) and like I said to restrained freedom, she'll come to explain her own history, and at the end, you know<p>

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><p>EminemBitches – LOL, talk about it, but she'll change that very soon<p> 


	13. Eom Waíse du Eld Jierda

**Chapter 12 – **_**Eom Waíse du Eld Jierda**_

"_Death fears me, you bastards, do you think you can make me fear anything? Should I die, and I go to the underworld, nothing shall touch me for I am a Hand of Death. Should I walk the starlit path, no angel shall stand in my way and challenge me. For where I can send the living to death, I can bring eternal torment to the dead. The Lord of the Underworld dares not question my abilities. How, tell me, can you?"_

_~Mistress Sarissa, Hand of Death, Mistress of the Gauntlet, Keeper of the Pact, Lady of Teirm, called "Death-bringer", "Mistress of Pain", and "Bloodstained Gauntlets"_

She had to admit, Eragon was stubborn and had a heart made to take pain.

It infuriated her.

Sarissa smashed her fist into his stomach, his hacking cough coming up with blood.

She was getting impatient.

Four days, and he didn't break, four days and nights of torture, and he still refused to be broken. He still left out "Mistress" sometimes, and most the times, she knew he had left it out on purpose.

Her Restoration would keep him alive whatever she did, unless she crushed his heart—literally—or beheaded him. And she was being careful not to do either of those, but she did everything beside that.

Well, besides disemboweling because it would be too messy.

Her prize, if he broke, was him. And that was something she found herself wanting more and more intensely every day.

It wasn't that he was handsome, though he was plenty of that. He was muscular, well-built, strong-jawed, his hair, though bloodied and matted with sweat, was silken and she found herself wishing to run her hands through it every once in a while. It was a temptation she would have to resist.

No, his beauty was not the reason.

It was his strength and compassion.

She had never been attracted to a man like this before.

She hated it. Yet she didn't want to stop.

She grit her teeth as the gauntlet sent a wave of pain through her, snapping her out of her little reverie.

She kissed his stomach and face, his wounds fading beneath her gentle kiss, though she quickly found herself touching his skin too long.

"I tire of this game, Eragon," she whispered into his pointed ear.

She could hear his thoughts start to try and figure out what she would do next.

Oh, he would never understand what she could do to him.

She ran her hands down his back, feeling him tense under her touch, her fingers trailing to his strong legs. His thoughts quickly averted from her intimate touches, going to the wardrobe, memorizing every little detail.

Smart.

She sent a rush of magic through her gauntlets.

His scream was satisfying.

His thighs broke in half, a sharp edge of a bone jutting out of his skin, blood pouring down his legs. She grabbed a dagger off the rack, and stabbed it into his stomach repeatedly.

"Dammit, would you break?" she asked, furiously smashing her fist into his face.

She barely restrained from punching him again, breathing heavily, chest heaving as she closed her eyes. She turned around, tossing the dagger onto the top of the rack with ease.

"Mistress?"

She resisted the urge to strike him as hard as she could.

"What is it?" she snapped.

"Are you alright?"

She hesitated, opening her eyes and turning to face her captive.

Large, beautiful brown eyes were gazing at her.

"I do not get you, Eragon Shadeslayer."

She had hurt him. She had brought him to the edge of death so many times, killed him a few times, and breathed life back into him with Restoration. Yes, she had to kill someone to gain their last breath, but it was worth the final prize. She had tortured him for days, relentlessly hurting him, heartless, cold, uncaring of how long she hurt him, only that it hurt and hurt a lot.

Yet here he was, sincerely asking if she was feeling alright.

She kissed his cheek, the wounds vanishing as she purposefully let her kiss linger.

"You are such a strange man, my pet," she whispered. "So different… I doubt I will ever fully understand you in my lifetime."

"Is that a good thing, mistress?"

She laughed, kissing his legs and torso, the bruises and the bone realigning itself.

"Of course it is, Eragon. And I have figured out how to break you. The next few days, I will bring you to the brink of insanity, my pet. And by the end of this week, you will break."

* * *

><p>Arya watched as the Imperial soldiers of Narda lined up on the walls, archers standing on the ramparts, no doubt the armed with swords for more personal combat that was soon to come.<p>

"You will show no mercy until they surrender!" Arya roared, wearing her armor that she had cast a color-changing spell over, turning it the color of Saphira's scales. Either in honor of the man she could not save, or for Saphira's comfort, she knew not, but it felt wrong to wear the colors of someone she had deserted. "Show no leeway, slaughter every single one until they throw down their swords and every single man lays dead, dying, or on the ground, prostrate and helpless! Put the city to the sword, spare the children and women, let no one who holds a sword against us live! This is the Varden, we are no mindless collection of ragtag rebels, we are an army, a single unit, bound by our belief of freedom! There is no backing away, there is no retreat, let us win this battle for Eragon!"

Her last words were punctuated by her drawing of Brisingr Eragon had left her.

The very cry of fury and rage shook the ground as with one voice, the whole army took up her last two words.

"For Eragon! For Eragon!"

It had been no secret that their hope incarnate had been captured by the enemy, but perhaps the fates did know what they were doing. The army, instead of being discouraged, was enraged. Furious. Bloodthirsty.

Narda was going to fall.

"Calayn, take your dreamwraiths and attack the ships, let no living soul leave Narda's port!"

She nodded, her and her kinsfolk vanishing as a great whoosh of wings were heard, the grass flattening and their hair billowing in the downdraft from their great wings.

There would be no dawn for Narda's Imperial troops.

Eom bavodar, _princess_, Saphira said gently.

"_Eom bavodar_, queen of the skies," Arya whispered.

* * *

><p>Eragon knew he was frightened. So did Sarissa.<p>

If he broke…

No, there was no "if", he was not going to break, not today, not tomorrow, not any day. That was final.

She was watching him from her bed, her head cocked a tiny bit, beautiful eyes raking over him.

"Does your back hurt?"

"Yes, mistress," he answered truthfully.

"Turn over on your stomach."

He did so without questioning her, surprised when she swung her legs over the edge of her bed, bare feet soundlessly padding over to the marble floor.

She opened a cabinet, digging through the contents. She pulled out a bottle, opening it to smell it before walking over to him. "Lie still, it will sting a little, but it shall make your back feel much better," she ordered.

He nodded, relaxing his tensed muscles as her fingers lathered some strange, exotic-smelling salve over his back. Like she had said, it stung, but it was nothing like the gauntlets, which she had told him were called _daor hald_, or death hand from where she came from, which was a country across the ocean.

Soon, the pain drifted into nothingness, and he could only feel her velvet-skinned hands. As her hands skimmed over his back, shockingly gentle and soothing, she told him of her country's history.

"The Pact was a small group of mages that had risen to power after a civil war that had torn the country into pieces. They brought order to the people by force and fear, but truly, they were fair and made sure those loyal to them, their subjects and the citizens under their rule, were protected and treated fairly. The Hands of Death were a radical, less-conservative group that had broken off from the Pact when the earlier Hands decided the Pact was beginning to loosen their hold too much. Civil unrest was starting to appear. Rebels were getting bolder," she said softly, her fingers gently running through his hair. "Then my sect of the Pact took action."

"The rest of the Pact was slaughtered by the Hands, and we took power, squashing rebels and insurgents, turning a loose-held country into a country held by an iron grip, just, powerful, unyielding. Our armies doubled and tripled in size, our soldiers became the feared Army of Death. The Hands had brought stability to a rapidly-weakening country in a land full of hostile tribes, raiders, and enemy countries. Leading our armies, we conquered all of the continent within a year, and our armies never wavered in fight. Then we heard rumors of an enemy we may not be able to defeat. Dragon Riders."

She smiled, sighing softly, "I suppose we can defeat Dragon Riders, can't we?"

"Clearly, mistress," Eragon said. "Mistress, why are you telling me this?"

Sarissa shrugged, a polished nail tickling his neck muscles, but it felt welcome after all the torture he had been through. "I do not know. You are a rare man, Eragon, perhaps I have found someone I can talk to in you, pet or not."

Apparently only a few of her brothers and sisters, a few comrades from the Pact, had come with her, the rest staying to keep order in their country. They had come to find these so called "Dragon Riders," but they had come too late, and had instead found the usurper king, Galbatorix, his pet Dragon Rider, Murtagh, and rumors of another Dragon Rider that could easily outmatch the Red Rider if he had no Eldunarí.

She sighed, "Go to sleep, pet."

"Yes, mistress."

* * *

><p>Murtagh silently watched as Thorn chewed contentedly on a leg of a deer, glancing at his Rider.<p>

_Hungry?_ the dragon asked.

"No, not anymore at least."

Thorn rumbled with laughter, throwing his head back to swallow the leg, a snap of bone coming from inside his mouth.

_Your loss_, the blood-red dragon said, happily munching on his catch.

_Galbatorix says one of those Hands of Death captured Eragon._

The dragon's tail whipped around a tree, _Well, no one is infallible. I have heard rumors that she and her friends threatened Galbatorix and he could not hurt them at all._

_That would be a sight to see. Wait, it's a she?_

Thorn gave a dragon shrug, swaying his head back and forth a few times, _Not sure, but wouldn't she be? I think women have more potential to be more heartless than men. And not anyone can catch a Dragon Rider._

_I suppose we shall find out in a few days. We lost a few days following that pack of Kull, I swear it was a waste of time._

His dragon gave a snort of smoke, the fire sputtering before flaming up again.

_Of course we did. It will take about a week, we're practically in the Hadarac by now._

_Oh well, it shall make no difference._

_I think your half-brother has a very bad habit of finding how to get out of any prison or situation he ends up stuck in._

Murtagh almost smiled.

_That he does. That, he truly does._

* * *

><p>Calayn smashed her sword into the man's chest, her blade dragging down his body as she nearly cut him in half, kicking him off her sword's point before dodging a wild swing, her wing crashing into his stomach before she stepped on his sword arm, no doubt breaking it. He screamed, but she ended the sound prematurely, using a quick spell to break his neck.<p>

"I surrender!" the last man standing near her shouted, throwing his sword down.

She raised her sword anyways, but then a hand gently restrained her arm.

Arya.

The elven princess strode to the man, tying his hands before Blödhgarm ran into the picture, ordering some Varden soldiers to guard the prisoner. Already, the other Imperial soldiers were surrendering, throwing down their weapons.

"We storm the keep," Arya said, walking towards the forbidding black tower. "And I shall spare none but the lord of this city once I get inside."

"I am with you, Arya."

The elf nodded her thanks as Calayn fell into step, mentally calling her clan to her as they all silently made for the last fortification.

* * *

><p>Lord Dunham watched the large procession, feeling a chill of apprehension run down his back.<p>

Why did the figures in cloaks send so many shivers down his back?

"My lord, the mages have sealed the doors! We can last a few days, but we must find a way out of the city, my lord, it is over," a soldier said, running into his room.

His wife shot up, her attractive face contorted with worry.

"Love, calm yourself," he said, kissing her cheek. "There is a tunnel."

Then he heard an explosion, and the tower rumbled. Shouts came from the bottom of the large spire of stairs.

The soldier swore, sweat starting to form on his face.

"My lord… they broke through the wards… how?" the man stammered.

Screams, sounds of battle, anguished cries ending abruptly every second

A black-cloaked man strode up the stairs, his face invisible under the hood.

Dunham threw his hands out, "_Skölir_ _nosu fra älfr_!"

A shimmering wall of air appeared in front of the man, and Dunham could hear the soldier sigh with relief.

The figure walked right through.

"_Núla deyja_," he snapped.

The soldier dropped, his helmet crashing into the stone floor, dead before Dunham could even blink or react.

A woman walked through the barrier, also cloaked in black, "_Kano'ner san ma'ru en_," she said.

The man lowered his hand, and the lord of Narda realized he had been about to kill his wife. She let out a small whimper of fright. After all, she was a twenty-five year-old woman, still young and innocent.

"Surrender the city," the woman said harshly.

"That would be treason."

"It would save the two-thousand men outside your window on their knees, unarmed, bound, and helpless. Otherwise, we shall untie their bonds, and slaughter them."

"You are the Varden, it is against your ideals," the lord said confidently.

Her hidden eyes bore a hole into his.

"I am not of the Varden. I fight for the Lord Rider, no one else. By him, I fight for the Varden, but I gave them no pledge. Me and my kinsfolk will not hesitate to kill unarmed people for our own kin were slaughtered in the same way by your foul race. The Lord Rider is dishonored to have such ancestors."

Somehow, he knew she wasn't bluffing.

"Will I be given amnesty along with the soldiers and the citizens?"

"They are to never pick up a weapon in the name of the Empire again, but yes. They shall be kept under watch, and Narda is now controlled by the Varden, the port, and every ship docked here."

"Many of the ships are not Imperial."

"Then they will be given amnesty, but they are not allowed to leave the harbor until we allow them. Is that clear? You have not seen what we can do."

"Of course. I shall go speak with the city."

She nodded, _"Dearth'àir, han lyan en._"

Her companion nodded, "I shall come with you. I would watch my tongue if I were you."

Dunham inclined his head, "Of course."

* * *

><p>Arya dreamt of Eragon.<p>

It was more like a nightmare. She saw herself killing him. She saw him being tortured, being killed only to be brought back to life by a woman in red leather.

_He is going to break._

Arya shook her head violently, _No! He will not break!_

_You do not know the capabilities of the Hands of Death, daughter._

She froze.

_Father?_

Evander floated into her vision, handsome, fair, armored, his features sorrowful.

_Arya, you do not know what they can do to him. Ralmir stood at the foot of a mountain and tried to see the bird resting in the snow at the peak. That bird is their ability to bring pain. He saw nothing. He felt but a mere drop of their ocean of abilities. Eragon will break._

_Father, I believe in him._

The elven king hesitated, sitting down beside her. _I do as well. But when the Hands of Death come, even death flees before them. No living or dead thing does not fear them, the keeper of the underworld himself fears the day he should accidentally displease the ones in his domain._

_Father… I missed you…_

He smiled, _Daughter, I miss you too, but the road I have taken is one you shall not take for many centuries. You still have much to accomplish, my love._

_Have you met Fäolin?_

_Actually, yes. He says he is sorry. For everything. Glenwing sends his greetings, his best wishes, and an apple._

Arya laughed, _I see he has not forgotten that he stole my apple as a child. I miss his jokes._

_He is at rest here._

Her sire studied her. _You do not regret losing Fäolin._

_No._

_Why is that?_

_He died how he wished to, not in a bed, not fading away from the weight of the ages, not with his friends gathered around him… he died a warrior. How am I to deny him the rest he deserves?_

_You did not love him, even though he was your mate._

_I was young, father._

_I will not argue that point. The city calls to me, daughter. I must leave._

_I love you, father…_

His smile was warm and held nothing but happiness.

_I love you too, my daughter. Your mother does too. You shall see._

Arya shot up in her bed.

_Little one?_

She sighed, wiping sweat from her face and neck.

_Go back to sleep, Saphira_, she said, kissing the dragoness' snout. _I will go for a walk._

And during those four hours where she wandered helplessly, she prayed to the stars and whatever god came to mind that what her father said was not true.

Yet she knew her father would never lie to her.

* * *

><p>Translation: <em>Eom waíse du Eld Jierda<em> (title) – To be the Breaker

_Eom bavodar – _To battle

_Daor hald _(Tongue of Sarissa's people) – Death Hand

_Kano'ner san ma'ru en_ (dreamwraith tongue) – Do not kill her (literally 'Do not her kill you,' but grammatically meaning 'You do not kill her' as an imperative sentence)

_Dearth'àir, han lyan_ _en _(dreamwraith tongue) – Brother, follow him (literally 'Brother, him follow you,' but grammatically meaning 'Brother, follow him,' imp. sentence)

* * *

><p>TN: <em>Bavodar<em> and all the dreamwraith and… Sarissa-people tongue words are mine. XD yuppp

* * *

><p>AN: hurrrrr… keep reading. ^-^ sorry that I keep jumping days, but for your sake, I am skipping out on most the torture for good reason. Oh… if you're really squeamish, you might not want to read the next chapter. Or some of it at least. It's going to be bloody.<p> 


	14. Eom hávr Jierdan

OK, TRULY, THIS CHAPTER WILL BE BLOODY. BLOODY, WITH BOLD LETTERS THAT CAN GET NO BOLDER STUPIDLY. I AM SORRY IF IT IS A LITTLE TOO BLOODY, BUT IT NEEDS TO HAPPEN, ALRIGHT? TRUST ME. SORRY AGAINNN D: DO NOT READ ON, IF YOU GET SQEAMISH, FEEL FREE TO STOP READING AND SKIP TO THE OTHER PARTS WHERE SARISSA IS'NT BUTCHERING PEOPLE

**Chapter 13 – **_**Eom hávr Jierdan**_

"_Breaking has a simple definition. To make that person have no will of their own, but lives only to do yours."_

_ ~Master Aias, Hand of Death, Master of the Gauntlet, Keeper of the Pact, Lord of Bullridge, called the "Black Ghost," "Dark Master," "Iron Hand," and "Lord of Hell"_

Eragon shivered as Sarissa's hands traveled down his stomach, coming to rest at his waist.

"So… my pet, are you ready to break today?"

"No, mistress."

He could feel her lips smile against his neck.

"I like that spirit."

She brushed past him, her fingers skimming his side, which, despite his captivity, still had a healthy amount of meat on them. She had kept him well-fed, surprisingly.

"Guard!"

The door opened, the burly soldier throwing a bound man into the room.

Eragon knew him.

"Lord Rider!" the former Imperial soldier he had spared said, swiftly getting to his feet, but Sarissa quickly brought him down, faster than he had risen, his yell of pain grating in Eragon's ears.

Then he figured it out.

Sarissa…

"Mistress, please do not do this," Eragon whispered.

The man raised his head proudly, "My lord, do not break to this bi-…"

His insult was cut off by Sarissa's gauntlets.

"I am so sorry, Eragon," she purred, her eyes glinting with deathly malice. "But you said you were not ready to break. So, I have to."

"The starlit path awaits me, bitch," the soldier smirked. "I wonder what waits for you in hell."

Her grin had nothing but cold, hard, ice.

"An empty path as the dead, damned, and the lord of the underworld part before me, fool. Death fears_ me_."

The Dragon Rider shut his eyes as he heard the sound of breaking bones and screams mixed with other wet sounds he did not wish he could hear.

_Well… Eragon, do you like this image?_

She slipped past his mental barriers, and he knew closing his eyes was useless. She could just show him what she was seeing, and it was just as horrid.

Describing it would be like trying to describe hell.

And the soldier's screams went on. And on.

And on.

* * *

><p>Sarissa angrily threw the dead body away.<p>

"Guard, bring in the next one."

A young girl stumbled in through the doorway, and Sarissa's anger vanished, replaced by pleasure.

Oh, this was going to hurt him.

"Eragon," she cooed.

The girl looked at her with fright.

The Dragon Rider had a tiny tear in the corner of his eye.

"Mistress, please… She's just a girl," he begged.

"Pet, it is easy as this. I will kill every person my guards give me until you break. And clearly you have not broken yet."

The girl looked at Eragon.

"Sir?"

He looked at Sarissa, begging her to let the girl at least speak.

She shrugged.

"What is it, little one?" he asked hoarsely.

"Are you feeling alright? Are you the Dragon Rider everyone talks about?" she asked, her voice heartbreakingly innocent.

Sarissa watched carefully as she saw Eragon's tear drop into the puddle of blood under him. Perhaps letting her talk would do just as much harm as another death.

"Yes, I am Eragon," he whispered.

"Momma says that you're a good man."

"I wish that I was."

The girl shook her head, "No, Momma is always right. Am I going to die, Eragon sir?"

Sarissa felt a shiver of accomplishment as she heard his thoughts grow sorrowful and she could almost hear his breaking heart.

"Yes. I am sorry, dear one, I am sorry."

"It's ok. Papa said he would wait for me and Momma at the gate of stars."

Eragon's weak smile was forced.

"Then someday, I shall meet you there and make up for what I made you go through."

"Ah, enough of this," Sarissa said, casually laying her hands on the girl's shoulders. "I think she will hate you after this."

She sent a surge of magic through her gauntlets, smiling lustily as the girl's shoulders broke and bled, the child's screams echoing off the walls and hallways.

Lust not for him, not for anyone.

No, this was lust for blood.

_This room shall be drenched with the blood of the innocent_, she thought with satisfaction. _And Eragon shall break._

* * *

><p>She could hear his weeping when the girl finally fell silent a few minutes later, a bloody mess instead of the cute girl she had been before. Lifting her up effortlessly with one lithe arm, she tossed her by the dead ex-soldier, smiling as Eragon winced at the crunch of bones and the wet splat.<p>

She was going to enjoy this.

The next one had heard the screams. He was already crying, for he was an old man, perhaps in his fifties, but still fit, and his beard was still dark with only a few streaks of gray.

Sarissa turned them into streaks of blood.

Bones jutted out of his skin. With a flick of her finger, his stomach shredded open, intensifying his screams as she delicately poked his innards.

Eragon was shivering.

Oh yes, she was going to enjoy this so much.

* * *

><p>Eragon could feel his tears streaming down his face.<p>

Victim after victim, innocent being after innocent being. Sarissa slaughtered them all.

The guard threw in a young man, the man bravely staring at Eragon, nodding, but Sarissa quickly turned that brave look into a bloody horror.

His ribs shattered. His legs twisted at wrong angles. His tongue lay on the ground where Sarissa had lazily dropped it, and right now, she swiftly spelled his body into stillness, carefully carving off his bottom lip.

_I always wondered what people looked like without lips_, she mused to him, and he couldn't stop the blur of images that popped into his head from her thoughts. _I suppose it would look more bizarre if there was less blood. Ah, that is it! I shall seal the wound._

He heard a ragged, breathless scream and the smell of burnt flesh made his nostrils flare, his mind swimming in helplessness.

His heart reached out to the dead corpses in the side of the room. To the man who was being mutilated. And for what? Simply because Sarissa wanted to break him. Just that she could break his spirit.

And he knew he couldn't lie to save lives.

And the screams continued.

* * *

><p>Sarissa blinked in pleasant surprise as the guard shoved in an elf, the woman tripping before elegantly straightening, dark eyes glaring at her defiantly. No tears stained her face.<p>

She was going to have to change that.

"An elf? A welcome change, those humans were weak. I shall enjoy making you scream. On your knees."

The elf did nothing.

"Lord Rider, I trust in you not to break," she said calmly.

"I hope I am worthy of that trust," he murmured, tears pouring down his fair face.

She gave a weak smile, "You are, my lord."

Sarissa sighed, "On your knees, elf."

"No murderer commands me."

With a vicious kick, she snapped the joint in her knee, bringing the elf to the ground with cold precision. Her face blanched.

"You do not scream. An improvement. _Vera bruna_. Oh, a question," Sarissa said, using a finger to break the stillness spell around the elf's head, for good reason. It let her scream. "Is there a relationship between you and the elven princess? You look like her."

Eragon then knew Sarissa had chosen this elf in particular.

She did look like Arya.

Sarissa knew his feelings for her.

The blood in his veins ran cold.

The elf spat in Sarissa's face.

The Hand of Death calmly wiped it off with the elf's sleeve.

"Defiant. I will kill that."

She gently brought her lips to the elf's, the elven woman's eyes widening with surprise.

Eragon knew what she was doing.

Restoration.

And when he thought over it, he also knew why she was doing it.

To make sure the elf would survive what Sarissa was about to do to her.

His cry of heartfelt pain rang sharply in the room, and he could almost hear Sarissa's laughter.

Sarissa let go of the elf, her dark smile never leaving her lips.

"You whore," the elf hissed. "Only you would take advantage of me like that."

The Hand laughed, "Me? A whore? No, elf. I am Mistress Sarissa, and on the starlit path that you will walk, much, much later, you shall remember that name and have nightmares. And you have no idea what you shall feel in the next few hours."

He closed his eyes, but then Sarissa let her eyes see for him too, and he could see the gauntlets close around the elf's arms.

She was starting easy.

Bone shattered and skin split, blood dripping down the elf woman's sleeve and Sarissa's gauntlets.

It suddenly struck him why she wore crimson-red leather.

To hide the bloodstains.

The elf knelt stoically, still and motionless as the spell never released her, her lips pursed.

"I am impressed. Even my pet did a little wince and yelp when I broke his arms."

"He is the Lord Rider, he serves no one save the wellbeing of the people of Alagaësia, and that includes killing you, you cheap whore," the elf hissed.

"Never knew the fair folk of the world had such harsh words in their vocabulary," Sarissa smirked. "You'll be saying more than 'cheap whore' to me soon."

Her fingers moved up to the biceps, bone and muscle ripping apart violently, her eyes dilating with the pain, but she stayed silent save a quiet whimper.

"I spent years learning every point on the body, animal, human, elf, dwarf, even an Urgal. I learned what places hurt the most, what places killed, what places knocked the victim unconscious… everything. There is not a place I do not know."

She tapped the elf's collarbone, moving a few spots to the left, tapping the spot. "On an elf, this place is said to hurt more than having your arms ripped apart if I push hard enough. Should we figure out?"

"Mistress…"

"No!" the elf snapped. "Say nothing more, Rider, you will not break!"

Eragon gave a slow nod.

Sarissa's finger tapped the area, the elf wincing.

"Ah, so it does hurt," she said, almost happily.

Then her finger pushed down on the spot—hard.

The elf's eyes slammed shut, her fingers shuddered, her lips quivering as Sarissa cruelly twisted her finger, the elf letting out a quiet cry.

"You are very resilient," Sarissa said, patting the elf's head. "If I did not have a better prize, I would have taken you as a pet. I would have enjoyed breaking you. Alas, I will have to use you to break Eragon, so let us let him hear your screams, shall we?"

The Hand pulled her to her feet, the elf standing stock still due to the spell.

She let her fingers trail down the elf's hard abdomen, muscled from work and no doubt, fighting. She could see the familiar calluses on the pads of her fingers and the edge of the palm.

The elf gave a quiet whimper.

Her hand came to rest on the elf's sternum.

"Let's hear your beautiful scream. Evarínya."

Evarínya's eyes flew open, her mouth opening.

And her scream shattered the silence of the room of the dead, breaking with the bones of her chest.

Eragon heard a wet rip and a ragged scream, Sarissa showing him images of what she was doing.

Evarínya's chest had been ripped open.

Sarissa picked through the organs, pulling out a small spherical thing, shrugging as she crushed it, the elf that looked so much like Arya letting out a harsh scream again.

The Restoration would keep her alive for hours. Maybe even a few days.

There was no way out of it.

"Oh, I take blame for that," Sarissa said as a hoarse cry of anguish came from Evarínya. "I think that might have been the spleen. Oh, Eragon, did you know we had to know the anatomy of almost every living thing. But with everything so bloody, I can barely tell the difference between the lung and the liver," the Hand of Death said, casually picking out something that was probably a lung, and ripping it in half, Evarínya screaming up blood as her torn lung fed the elf her own lifeblood instead of oxygen.

"That was a lung," Sarissa said, her cold obviousness frightening. "This, my pet, is a heart."

She carefully pulled out a pulsing blob, her mind-bond with him showing him everything and letting him feel what she was feeling.

It was sickening. He quickly fought the urge to puke for about the fiftieth time.

She poked it, and Evarínya shuddered as the extra pulse shivered through her whole body. Sarissa placed the beating heart back in her chest, licking the blood off her metal fingers, eyes gleaming with darkness, if that were possible.

"Your screams are beautiful, my dear," she purred. "I'd love to hear more."

"You are a heartless, cold, damned witch," Evarínya whispered, blood trailing from her full lips. "You…"

She screamed as Sarissa slammed a knife into her arm.

"Thank you. I promised you that you'd call me more than a 'cheap whore' before the end," 'Death-bringer' smiled.

She twisted the blade around, flesh ripping with a wet sound.

"Let me tell you something about myself, Evarínya."

"Your vile lips do not deserve to say my name!" she shrieked, turning into a tortured yell as the Hand tenderly turned the knife some more.

"I have a nickname. Some of my Brothers and Sisters of the Pact called me 'Bloodstained Gauntlets'. Can you suppose why?"

Without waiting for the probably insulting answer, Sarissa walked over to her desk, pulling a cloth from the drawer.

It was instantly stained with blood and gore, something the gauntlets had hidden. She wiped it across her torso, and it came away, slick with blood.

She tossed it into the basin of water, and walked over, smiling.

"Now you know why."

She gently ran a metal-sheathed finger down the trembling, sobbing elf's cheek.

"My other name is 'The Mistress of Pain'. I think I have proven this well enough."

"Get away from me, you heartless bitch," Evarínya wailed.

"You're too beautiful, the 'whore' in me cannot resist. It lusts for blood."

She slammed the knife into the torn stomach of the screaming elf.

"Enough," Eragon rasped.

Sarissa froze, drawing the blade from the elf who let out a cry of relief.

"What, pet?"

"End her anguish, mistress," the Dragon Rider begged.

She swam through his thoughts, a triumphant smile gracing her lips.

"Very well."

She took the elf's lips in hers, and with one draw of breath, took the air from the elf's lungs.

Dead, she released the elf from her spell, her body falling into the blood that nearly covered all the floor of the lower half of the room.

She walked over to Eragon's shivering form.

"_Laúss_," she whispered.

He fell to the floor, his tears mixing with his blood, now dried and hard.

"Get up, my pet," she said.

He tried, but his weak legs gave out.

She caught him under his arms.

"Come, you are bloody. Wash with me."

He gave no sign of resistance as she led him to the bathing room.

She couldn't help but smile.

She had won.

She had finally won.

Those ten days were worth every second.

For she could see his silver-gray eye looking at her, his other still a brown shade, though it was lighter and more bronze than the chocolate brown it had been.

And that made this her greatest victory, and thus it would stay for the rest of her life.

She was satisfied.

Eternally satisfied.

* * *

><p>Translation: <em>Eom hávr Jierdan<em> (title) – To have Broken

_Vera bruna _(tongue of Sarissa's people) _– _Be motionless

_Laúss _(tongue of Sarissa's people) _– _Release

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><p>TN: <em>Jierdan<em> is what I am guessing is the right word for meaning broken. _Vera_, _bruna_, and _laúss _are my words. All of the "tongue of Sarissa's people" words are. XD

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><p>AN: You know… I never think I could have written such a dark scene like that… o.o;; oh God… yeah, even I got a bit squeamish but it was worth it. Now you can see how… cold a Hand of Death can be. But there are some things about Sarissa you all will soon learn.<p> 


	15. Sevá Aiedail Deyja

**Ok, I'm not all that sure if this chapter's rating is T, so if you find anything you don't wish to read, skip it, it won't be straight out, only inferences, but I felt like I should warn you. ^_^;;**

**Yeah, this is the part you ExA fans will despise me for.**

**Chapter 14 – **_**Sevá Aiedail Deyja**_

"_Never before did the morning star seem so… bleak. So dark and so dull... No longer did it awe me, no longer did it remind me of beauty. It reminded me of my past life."_

_ ~Eragon Shadeslayer, Bromsson, last Free Dragon Rider, Heir Lord of Vroengard_

Eragon watched as Sarissa unbuttoned her leather uniform, ripping it off with a sigh of finality, tossing it into the basin that held nothing else at the moment but water. She took some water from the boiling cauldron that was at the fireplace in the bathing chamber, pouring it into the large tub, filling it most of the way, using some cold water from a bucket, testing it with her foot. She frowned at herself, noticing the dozens of bloodstains.

"Here, stand in that ditch and pour this water over yourself," she said, handing him a pail of cold water, tossing some leaves and herbs into the steaming water.

He did so without any question though he felt like he should try and break away from this hell.

She smelled the air, smiling, the scent of the flowers and herbs mixing and making the air beautifully sweet and exotic.

"Do you like how it smells? For truth, no lies."

"Yes, mistress," Eragon said.

It was the first beautiful thing he had experienced in a ten days save her eyes.

She picked up some water from a small flowing stream that was flowing down a groove, pouring it over her bare body, goose bumps rising on her skin though she showed no other sign of the coldness or discomfort.

She walked over to the tub, slipping into it with a quiet moan of unimaginable relief and pleasure.

She smiled at him, and he could see no malice in it.

"Eragon, I said to join me in bathing, not stand there looking like a fool. There is enough space for the two of us," she said silkily, her voice smooth and beautiful.

He hesitated, and she laughed.

"Come, are you shy of being naked with me? It is nothing I have not seen before, pet," she teased, her eyes glimmering. "I wish for you to come in the bath with me."

He did so, but it was not rebellion that made him hesitate, more like the wish for decency. It was not usual for him to strip in front of a woman.

She moved to one side, pulling him into the water as she washed her hair in it, using a sweet-scented cream to lather her silken strands, washing the bubbles out in the water, adding to the intoxicatingly alluring smell.

She smirked, "May I wash your hair?"

Eragon blinked, "Mistress, why are you asking me?"

She shrugged, "I do not know, Eragon. May I?"

"Of course!" he said with surprise, still not sure why she was asking if she could.

She scooped water into his hair, "Lay back, Eragon."

It confused him even more why she was calling him by name and not "my pet" or something of the like, but he did so because she was his mistress.

He let out a quiet groan as he felt the sweet, blissful massage of foamy soap, shocked when she didn't scowl and say to stay quiet, but instead smiled, laying his head on her cream-hued thigh, the skin soft against his neck as she raked her fingers through his hair and against his scalp, his soft sounds of pleasure leaving unbidden from his throat, but she never said a word against it.

"How does it feel, Eragon?"

"Like heaven, mistress," he sighed, and he could hear her chiming laughter, beautiful like her eyes.

She rinsed the soap out of his hair, and she lay down by him, her soft breasts pressed to his side as she laid her head atop his strong, muscled chest.

"Will you hold me?" she asked softly, her fingers resting over his heart, feeling the strong beat of that heart that held so much compassion.

Compassion she may have killed.

"Of course, mistress," he said as if it was obvious, his arms curling around her bare torso. He looked down at her. "Mistress?"

"Yes?"

"Can you not ask me to do things? It feels so strange, you always told me to do them, not asked me if I could."

She almost smiled.

"You are a strange, rare man, Eragon. So I shall not treat you like I have my other pets. I shall ask you of things, not order everything for you."

"Alright, mistress."

She hesitated.

"Eragon, look at me."

He did so.

"Am I beautiful? Truthfully? Do I look beautiful to your eyes?"

* * *

><p>Eragon gazed at his mistress, looking over her slowly and thoughtfully.<p>

She was beautiful.

No, she was gorgeous. Her harshness, her malice and dark attitude had hidden it from his notice before, for she had seemed so sinister at all times, not… vulnerable. Not even touchable. But right now, she looked nothing like a murderer, nothing like a torturer or warrior or fighter or fearsome Hand of Death.

She just looked like an angelic, beautiful, gorgeous, young woman.

Violet blue eyes, straight, regal nose, full lips, a curvaceous body, high cheekbones, slim and muscled, slender, graceful like a doe, yet as deadly as a dragoness. She… she was a marvel.

"Yes," he breathed. "Mistress, you look gorgeous, more than any other woman I have seen."

Her smile was even more beautiful.

"Truly?"

He nodded, "Yes, mistress, I would never lie to you."

She smiled, kissing his jaw, just for the pleasure of feeling his soft skin against her lips.

"You are wonderfully handsome, Eragon, no elf could ever match your beauty."

She could feel his thoughts turn slightly embarrassed.

"Thank you, mistress."

She pursed her lips.

"Eragon, can you go get my gauntlets?"

He did so, yelping when the metal gloves sent a searing burn up his arms, the gauntlets falling to the ground.

Sarissa walked over, her wet body moving with lethal grace and elegance, something the elves tried so hard to achieve, but something she did naturally, her stance casual, her legs moving without breaking stride, her feet flowing over the floor…

Yes, she was gorgeous.

She picked them up, and then he fit the pieces together. Her quiet sighs when she put the gauntlets on the rack for the night…

The gauntlets hurt her, and almost as much as they hurt him.

She picked them up, her eyes emotionless as she indicated to get back into the tub.

She slipped in beside him, handing him one, "Slip it on. It will hurt, Eragon, but I taught you to accept pain and embrace it. Pain makes you strong, pain erases weakness and liabilities. Do not love pain, but simply understand that pain makes live go on."

He nodded, biting his lip as he took the gauntlet, prepared for the pain, and this time, he held it without any sign of pain besides the slight wince.

"Put it on."

He did so.

She ran a hand down the strong cords of his muscled arms.

Her bare hand.

She wanted to feel him, his strength…

"I have decided."

"Mistress?" he asked, his eyes looking up at her in confusion.

"I shall take you as my mate, Eragon. You will not mind that?"

His heart cried no, but his heart was imprisoned behind bars of steel and pain.

Thoughts of Arya flashed through his mind.

Sarissa stared at him.

"Eragon… Come now, Arya does not love you. I can give you what she cannot. I can give you pleasure," she purred. "I can give you everything, my body, my love… my passion… Forget her…"

She kissed his lips, and he could feel pain start to tingle from where the metal hand touched his side.

Thoughts of Arya fled his head in an instant with that simple kiss.

"Mistress, I do not know why you honor me like this."

"Because I can, Eragon. My love, listen to my words. Send the tiniest bit of magic into the gauntlet. No Hand of Death makes love without the gauntlet or without pain. Make it hurt me, for we are bound by pain and by the gauntlet, sweet Eragon," she whispered.

He did so, and he felt the replying pain from her gauntlet. He winced.

She kissed him again, and he could find himself kissing back despite his heart's sobs and wails.

"I shall share the pain with you, my love," she promised. "I will teach you the way of the Hands of Death._ Ael mëen, ael melgin, val esen fayla, min elsa._"

Slowly, tiny bit by tiny bit, he was losing his memories of Arya.

Her laughter.

Her smiles…

The gentle touch of her hands against his face…

The memories vanished completely as Sarissa smiled, capturing his attention.

By whatever god ruled the world, how was she so beautiful?

* * *

><p>Arya stared blankly into the fire.<p>

Narda now belonged to the Varden, but what infuriated her was that none of them knew much about Mistress Sarissa, the Hand of Death who ruled Teirm through pain, iron, and fear. All they knew was that she wore red leather most of the time, she could easily slaughter thirty well-trained, heavily armored and armed men by herself without breaking a sweat or her stride. Other than that, it was the usual "heartless, cold, murderer" deal.

None of it was reassuring.

Saphira lay behind her, her wing lain across the elf's lap as the dragoness did her best to reassure her friend though she herself was worried out of her wits.

_No, we had to have faith in Eragon_, Saphira told herself.

Hundreds of times she told herself, and it never helped her.

A huge tear rolled from her cheeks.

_Oh, little one, what did you get yourself into now?_

Arya watched a single star in the sky, slowly fading in the light of the rising sun. It was a beautiful sight, truly, it was, but she felt no stirring in her heart like she usually did. She would usually smile at it, hear Eragon's quiet comment about how beautiful it was, but it did not make her do that this time.

Nor did she hear that stubborn Dragon Rider's voice say just how beautiful the star was.

A tear trickled down her face.

"Oh, Saphira," she whispered. "The morning star has never looked so dark and dull to me… it does not look beautiful any more, my sister…"

_Neither does it to my tear-filled eyes, my little elf_, Saphira said, mournfully laying her head on the ground, tears dampening the earth below her great jaw. _Oh, by the stars, I wish that fool of a Rider was with me, I cannot tell you how much my heart aches. I would rather die than know he is in the hands of that demon from the underworld._

Arya did not need the dragon to tell her how she felt, for she was feeling it too.

_He has broken, daughter._

_Father, do not lie to me_, Arya murmured tearfully.

_I do not lie, my love. Why would I lie to my daughter? He has broken, and it was not by pain he broke, but from his heart's compassion. You cannot save him. He has changed, Arya, he lives for no other reason than to serve his mistress._

_No_, Arya said, begging the stars for it all to be a nightmare. _No, Eragon would never break! I know he loves me, he would not break if only to see me again!_

_What have you done to make him love you anymore?_

That struck home.

She collapsed against Saphira and wept.

With the star that slowly vanished, her hopes and wishes all died with the morning star.

* * *

><p>Eragon watched the same star vanish, sighing softly.<p>

He wore a white tunic and matching leggings, showing he was mated with a Hand of Death, so Sarissa said.

He had been confused when she had walked to the wardrobe, pulling out her white and gold uniform.

"Mistress, why are you wearing white and not red?"

She smiled, going to a drawer to hand him a white tunic and a white-gold set of clothes.

"It is a symbol among the Hands of death, my love. White, _havatír váo_, in my tongue. It means white clothes, and symbolizes that the man I have tortured has broken, and I have taken him as my mate. The white also means I will not shed your blood as long as I wear this color."

"What is the black and gold, mistress?"

She smiled, pulling the tunic over his head, tightening the laces, "That is a different story for a different time, my mate."

He sighed.

"My love, is something wrong?"

Her arms curled around his waist.

"For some reason, mistress…"

She kissed his cheek, "My name to you is Sarissa, Eragon. I am no longer your mistress."

"I think I cannot stop calling you that, mi—Sarissa," he said sheepishly.

She chuckled, "You were saying?

He indicated where the star had been.

"I always found the morning star so beautiful… it seems so dim now for some reason…"

He enjoyed the feeling of her soft lips against his ear, her gentle breath flowing down his neck.

"Then find beauty in me," she whispered.

"I do, m—Sarissa."

"I find fear in you when I look at you," she admitted.

"Fear? Mistress, why? I would never hurt you!"

She shook her head.

"It is nothing. I trust you, Eragon. That is why I took you as my mate."

He looked at her, "Mistress… why do you not kill Galbatorix? You would be much better of a leader than he is."

She chuckled, "Hands of Death keep our vows. When we came here, I agreed to help him as much as I wished as long as he defeated one of our numbers. He barely did so, but only after Aelwyn nearly broke half the bones in his body. He is strong, Eragon, evil, maybe so, but he has strength, as do you. He would make a powerful Hand, but not as powerful as you. Your compassion was great, and now your tolerance for pain is even greater than mine, my love."

He took her hands, his white-gold gauntlets curling around hers. Surprisingly, they did not hurt him, instead, his gauntlets hummed with a pleasant feeling against his skin.

"Mistress, if you will listen, I wish you would not wear your gauntlets."

Her eyes flashed angrily.

"No, mistress… it's… it is just that I know they hurt you. I do not wish for you to hurt," he said quickly.

The fire evaporated into surprise.

"They do hurt me, Eragon," she said softly. "They hurt even more when I am distracted. They keep me on track, they guide me in ways you could not imagine."

"Take them off and I shall guide you instead," he promised.

She stared up at him with shock.

"I… I… Eragon…" she stammered.

It was the first time he had seen her flustered.

It was somewhat adorable, to see surprise and a small pallor of red on her beautiful face.

She didn't answer.

She simply drew him down into a passionate kiss.

* * *

><p>Translation: <em>Sevá Aiedail Deyja <em>(title) – So the Morning Star Dies

_Ael mëen, ael melgin, val esen fayla, min elsa _(tongue of Sarissa's people) – By pain, by strength, we are bound, my love

_Havatír váo _(tongue of Sarissa's people) – white (shining/pure/clean) clothes

* * *

><p>TN: <em>Sevá<em>, and the "tongue of Sarissa's people" words are also mine. :)

* * *

><p>AN: ALRIGHT, FIRST THINGS FIRST, I APOLOGIZE FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART TO ALL YOU ExA FANS! D: truly, this story will be worth the read. In the end, it will be ExA, but for now, just bear with me, please… Sarissa… I mean, yeah, I know it seems horrible, mating with the person you broke, but you don't know her back story, or at least not all of it. Things will start to change though, I promise. I PROMISEEEEE<p>

SORRY ONCE AGAIN!

* * *

><p>Restrained Freedom – I hope I answered your question here~ the Hands of Death may be cruel and harsh, but they have their sense of honor, even if its respect for some one like Galby. XD<p>

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><p>Viro – just a little ^^;; jk, I read like, all of the books… o.o;; thanksss~<p>

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><p>EminemBitches – ehh, not really, just an ally who respects the fact that Galbatorix can defeat one of her sisters of the gauntlet in fair battle, they may not like him, but they keep their promises<p>

* * *

><p>Madddogg789 – heh… we'll see ^^ thanksss~<p>

* * *

><p>Eragonfan123454321 – thank youuu :)<p>

* * *

><p>Evilwillbeblue – thank you so much ^^<p>

* * *

><p>InstigateInsanity – thank you~ I hope Mr. Goodkind doesn't mind me using a bit of his inspiration ^^;; but I'm doing my best to make their history different as can be, but a lot of it is truly based on the Mord-Sith, but I promise I'll try to make them as different as they can be.<p>

In other words, not that different -.-;; *sigh*

And yes, the gauntlets are a lot like the Agiel, I seriously am trying my best, so I did give them swords too, though they prefer the gauntlets. -.-;; sorryy

* * *

><p>Darth Feanor – sorry o.o;; XD thanks though<p>

* * *

><p>ESMT – well, I would, but whenever I read stories like that, I found it very distracting and I didn't like it that much, looks a little less professional, and even though it would be more convenient, it just adds another unnecessary diversion which I try to avoid, but thanks for the advice :)<p> 


	16. Eom Vilassi

**Chapter 15 – **_**Eom Vilassi**_

"_The greatest gift is forgiveness. The greatest skill is understanding. The greatest man is the man who can do both."_

_ ~King Evander of the elves, mate to Queen Islanzadí, father of Arya Dröttningu_

Sarissa kissed Eragon's cheek, gently shaking him awake, "_Elsa_, wake up," she said softly, stretching her long, slender legs, sighing as she leapt off the heavily upholstered chair.

He obediently struggled awake, pushing himself as he yawned cutely, making her smile helplessly.

She tossed him a formal-looking black tunic with golden trim before she pulled her black-gold leather over her head, buttoning it swiftly with the ease of practice and repetition.

"Your half-brother is coming from Galbatorix today," she explained as he swiftly washed his face in the water from the basin, drying it with a cloth before he held the tunic out in front of him, frowning.

"It is a very formal tunic," he said.

She laughed, "It will look handsome on you, my love. Wear it."

He pulled it on as he slipped into his leggings and boots, both which she also gave to him before she dug around some more, finally finding the cloak she was looking for.

"From now on, I have no need to keep check on your thoughts. You may think what you wish, my love."

He nodded, "Thank you, mistress."

As she rummaged through her wardrobe, searching for something he didn't know, a question he had wanted to ask many times before popped into his head.

"Mistress, what does the black and gold mean?"

"It means I am the leader of the Hands of Death," came the muffled reply as she jerked out a belt, pulling out two others, quickly strapping them around her waist.

He blinked.

"Oh… I am not surprised you are their leader, mistress."

She smirked, kissing his cheek, "Flatterer. Now, come, I hear the soldiers cheering. He must have arrived."

* * *

><p>Murtagh walked alongside Thorn as the soldiers chanted their names. It was no small secret of his rank and the victories he had helped the Empire win against the Varden.<p>

Then a deathly hush went over the crowd as a woman in skintight black leather with golden trim came out, her boot heels clicking on the stone with a lethal kind of sound. Eragon walked alongside her, wearing black gauntlets that, like hers, had golden edges. He wore a uniform that looked… shockingly nice on his half-brother. His boyish features were starting to fade rapidly, leaving a mature, strong-boned man in its stead.

The woman was gorgeous, drop-dead gorgeous, more than any other woman he had ever seen. Even Arya could not match her.

She looked him over, icy-cold blue-violet eyes taking him in with an expert gaze.

"Rider Murtagh, welcome to Teirm," she said, her voice dripping mockery, yet he knew that this woman had threatened Galbatorix and the king had been unable to do anything to her and her companions.

"Sarissa, I heard that is your name. You are very beautiful," he said, bowing.

He could hear the clink of the metallic links in her gauntlets.

"No one may address me as that. You may address me as 'Mistress' or 'Mistress Sarissa', never just 'Sarissa'. Is that understood?"

Thorn eyed the woman angrily.

"Of course, mistress."

She nodded, "Now, what does that bastard king want from me?"

A few soldiers winced at her open slander of the man who ruled them.

Murtagh composed himself, impressed by this defiant woman.

"He wishes for me to survey the soldier's conditions and the condition of the defenses, and meanwhile, asks you to come to Urû'baen for a meeting of the regional leaders. Being the Lady of Teirm, he wished for you to come and talk with the others."

"Very well, tell him I will come a few days behind you," she said curtly.

Murtagh glanced at Eragon, "Ah, brother, how have you been?"

Eragon gave no reply.

"You can talk to him, Eragon," Sarissa said.

He nodded, "I have been well enough, Murtagh."

The Red Rider looked at Sarissa, "You have broken him?"

She gave a nod, arching a brow, daring him to say something against that or to deny her claim.

"I am impressed. I hope you treat your captive well."

"He is my mate," Sarissa said, her voice flat and monotonous. "Why would I not?"

Now Murtagh was surprised.

"Your_ mate_?"

She nodded.

No one said anything for a few moments.

"May I inspect the city now?" Murtagh asked.

She snapped at a soldier, indicating for him to approach. He did so, utterly ignoring an astonished Murtagh and saluting to her and bowing to Eragon. She had told them they were to treat her new mate with respect as if he was the lord of Alagaësia.

"Mistress, what do you wish of me?" he asked.

"Captain, tell me, do the soldiers of the guard slack off during night? Please, no lies."

He shook his head, "No, mistress, I kill the ones who are found sleeping unless they have an exceptionally good excuse. Only one so far, mistress, it was because he was accidentally put on night duty three days in a row and had no sleep those three days."

"Where is he now?"

"Resting an inn, mistress."

"Good. Now, are you well fed?"

"Better than I ever was, mistress," the captain assured. "The cooks are wonderful."

"Do you get enough sleep?"

"Most the times, mistress."

"Get more sleep tonight then, captain. Are the gates well braced?"

"Yes, mistress."

"No rebellion?"

"Not even a peep, mistress."

She nodded with satisfaction, turning to Murtagh.

"They are well inspected."

Murtagh glared at her.

"He could be lying."

"Are you lying?" she demanded.

The captain shook his head resolutely, "_Neo, lilanë_."

Murtagh walked up to her, "You taught them the Ancient Language?" he roared angrily, Eragon stepping behind her protectively.

"Of course I did, now shut up and stand down, Murtagh," she snapped harshly.

Thorn swung his wing at her, his thundering roar shaking the ground as he furiously attacked her.

Then the dragon fell to the ground, writhing in pain.

Murtagh was gripping his chest, feeling exactly what Thorn was. An intense, knifing pain in his chest, dragging, harsh, merciless.

Sarissa knelt by the dragon who roared at her, trying to bite her before she intensified her attack, her gauntlets having a small trail of blood sliding down it. She ran her finger down the scaly neck.

"Never. Ever. Try to attack a Hand of Death," she hissed dangerously.

The captain sheathed his sword along with the rest of the soldiers when they saw she had the dragon under control.

She let go, waiting for Murtagh to get up as the Red Rider pushed himself to his feet shakily.

"Tell Galbatorix I shall be there in a week's time," she snapped. "I shall leave in the morning."

"Of course, mistress," Murtagh said as he swung himself up onto his dragon. "Farewell, brother. Mistress."

The dragon took off with a huff.

* * *

><p><em>Talk about defiant<em>, Thorn growled.

_I have no doubt that Eragon broke under her. Her gaze makes me knees weak_, his rider admitted sheepishly.

_Because she is beautiful or because she is frightening?_ the red dragon grunted.

_Both. Her beauty is as frightening as she is._

_Yes, perhaps you would have a better chance if she did not consider Eragon a better mate than you_, Thorn grumbled wryly.

_You are angry because she defeated you so easily?_

_More than angry._

_She is a Hand of Death. If death fears her, what could she fear?_

Thorn rattled his head spines with irritation.

_I shall visit the Varden tonight. I think the Eldunarí will be strong enough to break his hold on me for at least a few hours or so._

_It is risky, Murtagh._

_I live on risk_, his rider smirked.

* * *

><p>Nasuada leapt up as the guards outside her door fell in, hitting the ground with a muffled thud.<p>

A cloaked figure ran in, murmuring some soft words.

"Who are you?" she yelled.

The sound echoed off the wards he had put around them.

She grabbed her sword, but the figure quickly held her hand.

"Nasuada, please, it is only me," a familiar voice said softly.

She froze.

"Murtagh?"

He flipped off his hood, revealing a face she had longed to see.

"No other," he whispered, pulling him into her arms, embracing her warmly.

She grabbed his tunic, dragging him closer to her as she felt his strong form against her, his corded muscles moving in a strange, alluring way.

When she drew back, she searched for his beautifully dark eyes.

"Why are you here?" she asked softly.

He sat down, indicating for her to do the same.

"I come with news that Arya needs to hear as well as you do. I am sorry about your guards," he said sheepishly. "They shall wake up in a few hours."

"Galbatorix's…"

"I broke his hold over me, my name has changed and he cannot try to torture me for my new name. The people would revolt. He simply has spells over me, but when he slumbers, they weaken, but were still too strong. Once he gave me enough Eldunarí, I slipped past his wards, and here I am. I must speak swiftly, I cannot stay too long or he will know."

"Come, follow me," she urged as they hurried through the city, the Red Rider putting his cowl over his face.

They slipped into a dark inn, finding Arya's room with ease when the innkeeper realized it was the leader of the Varden.

Arya was clearly a light sleeper for when Nasuada shook her gently, she shot up, her hand going for her sword.

"Arya, stay quiet. Murtagh, ward the room."

"Murtagh?" Arya snapped, drawing Eragon's sword, but Murtagh had already warded the room from all ears.

"Arya! Be calm, he has news from the Empire."

"He is of the Empire, and that makes him an enemy," Arya hissed angrily, watching the Red Rider suspiciously.

"Believe it or not, Arya, I care not. But there are things you need to know. Eragon has broken, I was at Teirm earlier this day," Murtagh said quietly. "The Hand of Death, by the stars, she is someone who you cannot fight at all. She brought Thorn to the ground with but a touch from her hand. It felt like having a thousand knives jabbed into you repeatedly."

The two women fell silent.

"Her name is Mistress Sarissa, Lady and leader of Teirm. She took Eragon as her mate."

"What?" Arya yelled. "Eragon would never take an enemy as his mate!"

"Would you calm yourself!" Murtagh snapped. "He did not choose, his will has been broken, he lives on the command of his mistress and his mate, Sarissa! She is a cold, heartless killer, I talked to a few soldiers and they say they could hear Eragon's screams from the inn a fourth of a league away! He has broken, Arya, face the truth!"

The elven princess sat down on her bed heavily.

"I never believed he could break," she whispered.

Nasuada gently embraced the elf as she pursed her lips, her eyes glistening with unshed tears."

"Leave me," she said, lying down on her bed. "Please…"

Murtagh nodded, locking the door before shutting it as he and Nasuada walked out.

He grabbed her collar, drawing him close, "You have a chance to take him back," he whispered into her ear. "The Hand rides for Urû'baen, and I do also. In two days, she will be too far to know of if you attacked Teirm. Attack on the third, just to be sure, she will not be back for about ten days."

Nasuada nodded.

"Thank you."

He gave a small smile, "Take care of yourself, Nasuada."

"I will. I worry more about what you will do without me to tell you what to do," she teased half-heartedly.

He bent down, kissing her forehead.

"I shall visit whenever I can."

He ran to the end of the hall, opened the window, and leapt out, turning into another shadow in the night.

* * *

><p>Eragon watched as Sarissa bathed, giving a return smile when she turned to him with a beautiful smile.<p>

"Why will you not join me?" she purred.

"Every time we end up in the same bath, we leave a mess behind, mistress," he said, and he said it in all truthfulness. They had to usually use a towel to clean the water off the floors and walls after their… uh… "bath."

She got up, water dripping down her body as she walked over to him, kissing his lips.

"We can leave a mess behind, I do not care," she said softly, slowly sliding her hands under his tunic. "I just care that I get to have you before I leave. I shall miss you so much, my love."

"I will miss you also, mistress."

"Come, I enjoy our time together. Do not leave me to bathe alone, the water gets so lonely without someone to share it with."

* * *

><p>Even though she knew it was not be his choice, it still hurt.<p>

Arya turned in her bed, raking her hand through her raven-black hair, sighing.

"Stars, what have you gotten yourself into, Eragon?" she whispered.

_I told you, my daughter._

_Father, I should have believed you_, Arya said, wiping a tear away.

_Do not attack Teirm. When Nasuada suggests taking Teirm while Murtagh and the Hand is away, do not go. It will only hurt you more, my love._

_I have to go, father. I will not leave Eragon any more in that condemned city._

His voice was pained.

_Very well, Arya. But you shall regret it._

Eragon lay with his mistress in his arms, her head nestled in his chest, soft hair tickling his bare skin.

"Eragon?"

"Mistress?"

She reached up to stroke his cheek, "Will you truly miss me?"

"Of course I will, mistress," he said.

She kissed the base of his neck, "You make me fear, Eragon… but it is good fear."

He laughed, "Mistress, do not joke with me. Death fears you, how can you fear anything? You brought an enraged dragon to the ground with a mere touch, what can I do to you? I would never hurt you anyways, mistress."

"Hold me when you fall asleep, Eragon," she murmured. "It has been so long since I have had a man hold me."

"Mistress, men think you are the most beautiful woman, how can I be the first one to have held you in so long?"

She hesitated.

"I hated men, Eragon. My trainer, the man who broke me, was a man, cruel, harsh, handsome yet so terrible… When I broke, he bed me. By force."

"I am sorry, mistress," he whispered.

And he truly was.

She shook her head, "Do not be. I have you, and the remembrance of our lovemaking erases all those bad memories."

"That is good, mistress."

She sighed.

"Did I ever tell you how a Hand is broken?"

"Do I wish to hear it, mistress? I do not wish for you to hurt, hearing about how the Hands tortured you would make me sad."

She smiled, "You are truly a wonderful man, Eragon."

Her finger traced the hard lines of his muscled torso.

"He beat me. He crushed my bones until I had nothing left by broken limbs, and then he healed me just to do the same thing over again. He raped my mother and made me watch her scream and beg. He had by brother disemboweled and he died at my feet as I hung on the chains, watching as he helplessly screamed that he loved me and that I was always his sister. He… raped me. And my sister. He had innocent children bound and had them screaming their lungs out as he carefully taught me anatomy. He brought live deer captured, butchering them in full sight of me so he could show me the fastest and the slowest way to slay animals. He burned people before he… did things I wished I could not remember."

A tear trickled down her face, and before he knew what he was doing, Eragon gently kissed the tear.

She turned so that her lips barely brushed his.

"By the stars, you frighten me," she whispered.

"Mistress, do not say that," he pleaded quietly. "I would never hurt you, you are my life. I live for you, mistress, how do I frighten you?"

She shook her head, burying her face in his chest.

"We go through four breakings," she whispered. "Four sessions. First, they give us an animal, alive, young, healthy and trusting. For a week, we care for it.

"And then they make us kill it while it whimpers and whines, helpless as we run the blade through its throat. I had to kill a dog… its huge, doe eyes looked up at me. I had named him Dragon. By the stars, he was the sweetest dog… And yet I stabbed my blade through his neck, heard his dying yips, cried when Master Aias applauded me and then struck me for crying over a worthless animal."

She let out a ragged sob, "Stars, stars, stars," she cried. "What have I done… our second breaking, after three weeks of torture, he tells me he will let me rest for a month. If I kill my mother. I couldn't. I sobbed for days as I held onto her until master took her away, tied me to the ceiling, and raped her, telling me this is what she would go through if I did not kill her. She begged me not to, told me that her defilation was worth it if she got to be near me. I didn't care. I didn't want her to go through that.

"So I killed her."

Eragon listened quietly, holding the sobbing Hand of Death.

"Then my father. Stars, he was tortured, but master kept on healing him, kept on Restoring him, kept on making him scream. I ended his pain. Master Aias gave me these gauntlets then," she said brokenly, touching the red gauntlets. "All Hands receive their master's gauntlets after the third level."

She took his hand in hers, gripping it tightly.

"I… I never thought about what I did after the third breaking," she admitted, her body shivering slightly as Eragon held her in his warm embrace.

"Mistress, please do not cry," he said, kissing her. "It hurts me."

"The fourth breaking was the hardest and the easiest," she said after taking a few deep breaths to compose herself. "Hardest because I had to kill hundreds of innocents. There was a village of rebels. The army surrounded the village, and I went in alone with the master. He watched as I killed every single living being in the whole village, hundreds of people, men, women, children, animals… everything…"

"What was the easy part, mistress?"

"I killed Master Aias. That is the fourth breaking, Eragon. You slaughter hundreds, and then you kill your teacher."

He felt apprehension.

"Mistress, I would never kill you," he promised, kissing her. "I would never find the heart to, mistress, I care for you, why would I ever even think of hurting you?"

She drew him close, and put her head under his chin, her lovely body pressed to his.

"Because that is the way of the Hands of Death," she said sadly.

"Then I will not be a Hand if only to keep you alive, mistress."

"You already are a Hand, my love."

Then she got up, her eyes turning icy.

"Get up."

He did so without asking any questions.

"Dammit, I am getting soft," she growled. "You will sleep standing up tonight. Since you are my mate, I will not hurt you any more than I need to, but I will do what I can to make your existence a living hell. And it will be like that until I leave, and that will be when I put you in charge. I trust you to do what I would."

He nodded, "Yes, mistress."

"Good. Do not disappoint me."

* * *

><p>Translation: <em>Eom Vilassi <em>(title) – To Understand

_Elsa_ - love

_Neo, lilanë – _No, mistress

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><p>TN: <em>Vilassi<em>, _elsa_, and _lilanë_ are my words~

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><p>AN: yes, yes, sad because Arya figured out that Sarissa took Eragon as her mate. OOKKK, fine, once again, you ExA fans, just bear with me, I promise in the end, it shall end as ExA, ok? XD just hang with me here, I'll try and ease you anger by letting you know it will end how you want it to end, lolll<p>

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><p>Eradon son of awesomeness – thank you so much ^^ I have the next three or so chapters written, but I'm going to upload them one by one so I can keep writing more and hopefully finish by the end of September or so~ be patient XD thanks for the part about the timeline, I fixed it and hopefully it's a little more accurate~<p>

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><p>Cara Meiffert – Uhh… I don't remember any back-slapping, but that is a usual greeting among soldiers, isn't it?... I don't think I was thinking of mud people… but thanks :) and truly, I thought of the prophesies and riddles because I hate them myself, so freaking confusing -.-;; ugh… thanks for all your reviewss~ ^^<p>

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><p>Darth Feanor – thank youuu~ I hope the scream wasn't about… her. XD<p> 


	17. Oroya abr du Jierdan

**Chapter 16 – **_**Oroya abr du Jierdan**_

"_Broken people live on the whim of the one who broke them. Nothing more. Nothing less."_

_~Mistress Aelwyn, Hand of Death, Mistress of the Gauntlet, Keeper of the Pact, Lady of Gil'ead, called the "Midnight's Killer," and "Death's Phantom"_

Arya rode upon Saphira as they circled Teirm, the dreamwraiths flanking the great dragoness.

"He is most likely in the keep," Arya said softly.

Saphira blew out smoke from her nostrils in agreement.

_I will tear those bastards apart and feel satisfaction from their screams_, she growled in a way only a dragon could. _No one hurts Eragon without feeling my wrath._

_Patience, friend. Wait for Nasuada to call the attack._

Then Saphira roared.

_The Hand is here! Yet… why does she wear white? Did you not say she wore red?_

_Then it is not her._

Then Nasuada let the Varden loose.

* * *

><p>Eragon ran out as Captain Liyan flew up the steps, "My lord! My lord, it is the Varden! They have besieged the city!" he shouted.<p>

Eragon flexed his white-silver gauntlets, "Draw all your men into the keep, make sure the citizens are in with you. No one is to be left outside the keep, do you understand me, captain? _No one_."

The man bowed, "Of course, milord! Jace, Tarith, get everyone into the keep! Now! Move it!"

* * *

><p>Eragon stood about twenty paces away from the gates, waiting patiently for the Varden to realize that there was no one guarding the ramparts.<p>

"My lord, everyone is in the keep!" Captain Liyan said, running up beside him.

"Then you should be in there also, captain. I trust you to lead the city well if what I try to do fails."

"Of course, Lord Eragon. It has been an honor serving you."

"Give Mistress Sarissa my love."

"Upon my blood-stained blade, I shall."

The captain ran back without any hesitation.

Undying loyalty hurt.

The doors blasted open, the mad charge of the Varden rushing through the broken gates.

They froze.

Their former Dragon Rider stood in their path, arms at his side, white sword and a pair of daggers and multiple knives strapped to him. A cape billowed behind him, white like his skintight leather clothes and the gauntlets he wore. The white leather tunic fanned out down to the middle of his thighs, unarmored save his metal gauntlets. No helm adorned his wonderfully handsome face, no armor for his legs, chest, or neck.

The gauntlets…

"Turn back," he said. "You attack and it is folly."

Saphira landed, _Eragon_! she cried with joy, rushing forward, only to face the tip of his rapidly drawn sword.

He was almost twice as quick as he had been, but his eyes were even colder than Arya believed possible.

She swore they were glinting a silver hue, but it was probably because of the moonlight.

"Eragon?" she asked as his dragon slowly drew back.

His brows furrowed, his eyes looking over her as if he had never known her.

Then it struck her.

No recognition entered his eyes.

"I… I remember you," he said slowly. "Who are you?"

Tears came to her eyes.

_By the stars…_

"Eragon… it is I, Arya," she whispered. "You do not remember me?"

He blinked.

"I… think I do…"

His eyes flashed.

"Arya…"

She felt joy spread from her heart throughout her whole body.

Then his eyes dulled.

"Leave, quickly! Do not make me fight you, Arya, you may have been able to defeat me before, but you cannot anymore! Please, leave!"

"Not without you, Eragon," she promised. "We came for you…"

Then quieter: "_I_ came for you…"

"It was a mistake to come here, Arya," he said hoarsely. "Leave. I must stay here. Mistress Sarissa is who I serve, Arya, do not make me choose between her and the Varden, I will choose my mistress."

"Eragon, we stormed the gates of a city to save you! Please, come! You can leave this place, you can be free! Why are you staying?"

Only then could she see the full extent of his breaking.

Completely, utterly, finally broken.

This Mistress Sarissa knew how to break people.

"You stormed them in vain," he said, straightening. "Leave."

He tossed her Brisingr, belt of Beloth the Wise, scabbard, sword.

"I need it not here."

Arya drew it.

"I promised I would not leave this city without you beside me. I intent to keep that promise, Eragon."

He gave a sad sigh.

"Arya, do not do this," he pleaded.

"I must."

She swung Brisingr, and before she knew what was happening, he appeared in front of her, his fingers wrapped around her sword hand, the other around her other wrist.

She screamed as a million daggers ripped through her, slowly, agonizingly slowly creeping from her wrists to her hands to her forearm to her shoulders…

The Rider sword clattered to the stone floor.

_Stars…_ she whispered in her mind, trying to stop her tortured screams in vain. _Is this what she did to him?_

Eragon let her go.

"Go."

She swung her legs at him, and then saw the fist too late.

It crashed into her stomach, her armor bending with the impact as it doubled her over. His foot tripped her as he gripped her arm, hauling her upright.

"Do not make me hurt you anymore," he whispered, still begging.

"You already are," she murmured.

She slammed her forehead against his, ignoring the ringing and the pain that shot through her skull.

Then her arms broke.

Her cry of pain was drawn out and long, helpless against his simple touch in ways she should not be.

_He loved me… stars, Eragon, what happened to you_?

Then he leaned forward, and his lips brushed her neck.

A gentle shiver started from there, healing her broken limbs and her bruises.

"Go. If you are wise, you shall listen to me. You do not know the tip of the mountain of what I can do…"

He walked back towards the keep, her blood running down his white-silver gauntlets.

Not once did he look back at her.

Her fingers curled around the hilt of his sword, slowly sheathing it.

Arya watched him go, feeling pain beyond imagination ripping through her every step he took.

She had just met her breaker.

And she was already starting to shatter into tiny, irreparable pieces.

* * *

><p>Eragon collapsed in the bed he and Sarissa shared, pulling off his gauntlets and throwing them away with disgust.<p>

Strange feelings rushed through him.

He… why did Arya make his heart beat quicker like it did when Sarissa kissed him? Why did she seem so beautiful to him?...

He felt unfaithful.

* * *

><p>Arya didn't want to get up from her sleeping place.<p>

She didn't want to leave the safety of her dreams.

Many of them had Eragon in them, the laughing, carefree, smiling one she had found so much comfort in. He surely had magic, Eragon magic. No matter what he could make her want to smile, his laughter…

By the stars, she missed his laughter.

Stars, she missed _him_.

Saphira was crying softly, huge tears rolling off the smooth scales. It took all her willpower not to do the same.

Her mother would scoff at her.

"_You have gotten soft, daughter,"_ her demon sneered. _"What is this, perhaps you actually _love_ him? You are not the woman I remember."_

"_I love him more than I ever loved you!"_ Arya screamed. _"Where were you when I cried? Where were you when I wept? Where were you when I needed you? He took your place, and rightfully so!"_

"_Oh, that hurt, I assure you. But now look at it, Arya… The world around you is breaking, and best of all, you are breaking with it."_

"_You have already broken, you cursed demon,"_ Arya whispered. _"Words of the living do not hurt me… Voices of my past do not haunt me, nothing!"_

"_Oh yes, nothing can harm you. Nothing but the words of the broken, no?"_

The mocking laughter drifted into nothingness.

* * *

><p>The Varden's moral was lower than the pits of hell.<p>

Their own Rider had been turned against them.

Their hope was as good as gone.

It would have been easier had he been killed, he would have been a martyr, a man who's name the Varden would scream before every battle to encourage the others, a name they would say with reverence and tell their children about.

"_My children, there once was a man named Eragon Shadeslayer, one of the bravest men of all time…"_

"_Here, come and listen to the story of Eragon Bromsson! Let your hearts be glad for he gave his life for you!"_

"_Long live the legend of Eragon Shadeslayer!"_

No…

No longer would those tales be spread.

Now, to the Varden, he was Eragon the Broken.

Eragon the Fallen.

There was not a man who had not shed a tear by the end of the night.

* * *

><p>Translation: <em>Oroya abr du Jierdan<em> (title) – Words of the Broken

* * *

><p>TN: <em>Oroya<em> is mine, and _jierdan_ is what I suppose means broken

* * *

><p>AN: I'm feeling extra nice today so i shall put up the chapter i was planning to put up tomorrow ^^. Not too many broken hearts right? o.o;; please, don't kill me… I promise Arya will end up with Eragon, not our poor Hand of Death… promise. ^^;; just wait a long time for this story to end.<p>

And yes, this is a short chapter, I'll do my best to lengthen them, but the next one is already written and it is also short… sorry, I'll update as fast as humanly possible~

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><p>ESMT - thank youu~ i appreciate itt, but luckily no other Hands are at Teirm except Eragon, who will soon be considered a Hand.<p>

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><p>EminemBitches - thanks brah ^^<p> 


	18. Neo Medh Zar'rac

**Chapter 17 – **_**Neo Medh Zar'rac**_

_"You are an enigma, Eragon, a quandary that no one knows how to solve."_

_~Ajihad, successor of Deynor, leader of the Varden, father of Nasuada_

The Varden army marched back to Belatona over the following days without any pause except for a few nights, once by Woadark Lake, another near Kuasta, the other by Leona Lake. When they reached Belatona, they were welcomed with singing, but when the news of Eragon's capture and breaking was revealed, Belatona became silent with grief.

Arya, Saphira, the dreamwraiths, and Eragon's elven guards did not go to Belatona. They went to Kuasta to tell Roran that his brother-like cousin was no longer a part of the Varden.

And this is where Arya found herself, waiting as the soldier rushed to find his commanding officer.

Calayn put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

Of the dreamwraiths, Calayn had taken his capture and breaking the hardest, saying that she should have gone with him, saying she should have tried talking to him, said that it was her fault she was too afraid to face him.

Roran ran down the stairs, smiling, "Arya! Saphira, Calayn, how have you two been? Hello Kalyn, Dathal."

He kissed Saphira's snout, quickly embracing Kalyn and Calayn, shaking hands with Dathal and keeping a respectful distance from Arya. She was not one for hugs, though Eragon insisted she was very huggable at times.

She usually pushed him into a tree if he said that.

"Where's Eragon?" he asked as Katrina hurried down the stairs, careful as her belly was much larger than she was used to.

Katrina flung her arms around Arya, "Arya! How have you been?" she asked, ignoring the fact that not many people hugged the elven princess without a sword in their gut afterwards.

Despite her sorrow, Arya managed a tiny smile.

"Well enough. Is the child kicking yet?"

"A few times," Katrina smiled. "The child is as impatient as Roran. Where is Eragon? I miss him."

Arya hesitated.

Roran gripped her arm with horror, "No… Don't tell me…"

"He is alive," she whispered.

The Dragon Rider's cousin sighed with relief, "Stars, don't scare me like that, Arya, where is he?"

"Captured. In Teirm."

He froze.

"I hope this is a jest."

"No," Arya said, finding Saphira's warm neck beside her, a mutual message saying the dragoness was there for her. "I wish I was."

Roran took Katrina's hand out utter instinct, sitting down on the stairs.

"How?" he asked hoarsely. "Why was he in Teirm?"

"Nasuada asked for someone to go to Teirm to find out more about these new allies of Galbatorix. Eragon volunteered as did I. She was stronger than anything we could have expected."

Roran sighed.

"Damn," he swore. "Are… Are you going to attack Teirm? We have to try!"

_We did, friend_, Saphira said quietly. _He has broken already. There… There is nothing we can do, Roran._

"There's always something we can do," he insisted. "What makes you think he's broken?"

_We went for him. He chose to stay at Teirm._

The big man stared.

"You're lying," he whispered. "I know Eragon, he may be stubborn, but he would not have done that."

"The Eragon you know is locked behind bars of broken hearts," Arya said, steeling her voice. "There is nothing we can do."

Roran looked at her.

"You don't care, do you."

Arya narrowed her eyes, "How could I not care about this, Roran?"

He slowly stood up, "You don't. You just stand there, saying there's nothing you can do, and Eragon chose to stay in Teirm. You stand there saying that it's over, and Eragon has finally fallen! I don't believe one word of it! If you cared about Eragon, you wouldn't believe it also!"

His words cut deep.

Calayn stepped forward, her eyes dangerous, "Arya is Eragon's friend, I have not seen one who cares about him as much as she," the dreamwraith said with finality. "Watch what you say, you may be Eragon's cousin, but I am his friend and protector, and since he is not here, he would want me to look over his friends, and I shall do that. Say one more false word of Arya and you shall regret the day your mother met your father."

Arya set an arm on the dreamwraith's arm, touched she would say what she did.

"Roran, you know me better. You know I care for Eragon. But there is nothing I can do. If the Hand can defeat Eragon, she can toy with me and still defeat me with ease. Eragon would tell me to stay away."

She half-turned, hesitating.

"He already has."

She walked away.

* * *

><p>Calayn took to the air moments after Arya strode away, flapping her wings as she let herself shift form, her sleeker, more air-acquainted body streaking through the air invisibly.<p>

She needed her own time to think.

* * *

><p>Eragon rushed out of the keep, a small smile curling at the sides of his lips when he saw Sarissa riding into Teirm, her pure-white stallion coming to a stop.<p>

She smiled at him, "Hello, my love."

He offered her a hand down as she took him upon his offer, letting her arms curl around his waist as he embraced him warmly, ignoring the soldiers around them. No one gave them any second looks.

"I have missed you," she purred, kissing his jaw.

"And I have missed you also, mistress," he smiled, enjoying the feel of her warm lips against his skin.

"Come, we have much to speak of," she said, pulling him towards the keep.

Right when she got through the door to their room, she collapsed, breathing heavily with pain.

"Mistress!" he said with shock, kneeling beside her. "Mistress, what is wrong?"

"Help me to the bed," she whispered.

He carried her easily, setting her gently on the lavishly upholstered bed they had slept together in for… had it truly only been three weeks?... It felt like so much time had passed…

She fumbled with her uniform's clasps, her fingers trembling, "My love… can you… help me?" she asked hesitantly.

She was not the one to ask favors of anyone, but he did it readily, his fingers nimbly undoing the clasps from experience of having done and undone the clasps for his uniform, and hers.

Multiple reasons for his experience.

When he pulled the leather off, he could see why she was so pained.

Some skin pulled off with the leather, hundreds of scratches, bruises, welts, burns… he couldn't count them, they were like the grains of sand on the shores.

"Mistress, what happened to you?" he asked hoarsely.

"Galbatorix… he was not that pleased that I hurt Murtagh like I did," she chuckled drily. "Took twenty magicians to do this, and I killed almost all of them before I ran out of strength."

"You are far stronger than I am," he murmured, kissing her brow. "May I heal them?"

"No!" she snapped. Then she softened, kissing his hand, "No, my love… the wounds will hurt you twice as much as they hurt me if you try to heal me. It is not worth it."

"Everything is worth you, mistress," he said.

"No… I order you not to heal me," she said, smiling weakly. "I do not wish to see you in pain… not anymore…"

"He… did not…"

"No, he did not rape me, my brothers and sisters saved me before he could."

"You should have taken me with you, mistress."

She chuckled, "You would have slaughtered them and then killed yourself fighting Galbatorix."

"But I would have you helping me, that would mean I would win," he teased. "Do you wish to bathe?"

"As long as you are with me, I will do anything," she sighed.

* * *

><p>When he had prepared the water, he carefully lifted her bare form from the bed, setting her in the bathing tub, taking off his clothes before following.<p>

Gently, tenderly, he washed the blood off her, wincing every time she flinched, apologizing profusely though she just settled her beautiful, still unmarred face against his chest, saying as long as it was him hurting her, she would love it.

That confused him slightly, but he pushed it aside, worrying about how to ease her pain as best as he could.

* * *

><p>Sarissa shivered slightly in the cool breeze coming from the open balcony as Eragon wrapped her in a thick towel, kissing her quickly.<p>

"I shall get a salve I know of, it works wonders, mistress," he murmured as she nodded, closing her eyes.

He lingered by her for a few moments before dashing out into the hallway.

"Guard! You, you there! Get me a bowl, big as your head or so! You, buy the most expensive thornapple oil you can find, and while you are with the outside vendors, buy some thalin leaves! You, go to the forest, find the basilisk tree, bring me back the buds! Go, go now! Do not disappoint me!"

The three guards vanished in a second.

Twenty or so minutes later, they returned, some quicker than others. He dismissed them, saying a quick spell over them as the leaves and buds broke apart into indiscernible pieces, turning the slick oil into a thick, light-green paste.

Quickly locking the door, he found Sarissa sleeping in the towel, but her eyes fluttered open readily when he gently woke her.

"This may sting for a little while, but you shall feel much better after this, mistress," he said softly. "May I?"

"My body is nothing you are unfamiliar with, Eragon," she smirked tiredly.

He gently spread the cream over her alluringly beautiful body, his reward being the look of ease and relief that spread over her gorgeous face.

"By the stars, this stings like thirty hells, but it feels so much better after," she groaned. "You work magic even when I do not let you, I should punish you, my love."

He laughed, "You may punish me when you are not tired and you feel better, mistress."

"Yes, twenty hours in this bed with me."

"That sounds like another heaven," he smiled.

"Without talking."

"A little worse."

She laughed softly, "You are a wonderful, wonderful man, Eragon. Never think otherwise."

He blew on the salve, the quick-drying spell he had put over it making it soak into her skin in mere seconds. When he repeated the procedure to her back and neck, she gently took his hands, pulling him down towards her.

"Please, make love to me," she whispered. "I have longed for you ever since I left, my body aches for you."

"But you are injured, mistress," he protested slightly.

"It matters not to me," she smiled.

He carefully let her pull him into the bed, reaching for the gauntlets.

She caught his hand.

"Not with the gauntlets?" she pleaded quietly. "Just… just this once… I only want you tonight, my love… Without pain…"

He let go of the gauntlets.

"_Without pain…"_

What an alien, foreign phrase… He had forgotten what it had meant a while ago.

* * *

><p>Translation: <em>Neo Medh Zar'rac <em>(title) – Not With Pain/Without Pain

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><p>TN: Eh, everything is Paolini, I don't think there was a word for "without" so I did not with, which also could mean without, so yesh. ^^<p>

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><p>AN: YES, YES YESS, THOSE WHO HAVE READ THE SWORD OF TRUTH BOOKS, the last part is like the part where Denna asks Richard not to use the Agiel after she was "trained" by Darken Rahl<p>

Kinda sad…

Sorry, I'm good.

One of my shorter chapters, i swear to the good God above taht i am trying to lengthen them for your sake, but its hard to figure out a good way to end a chapter and if i get to the end of a chapter, i just like... know its the end. i can barely add anything in without ruining it, so i tend to not add those parts and way until later chapters. anyone else get that feelign?...

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><p>Viro – thanks ^^<p>

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><p>Cara – LOL, good, I did base Sarissa off of Denna, those who know that know for sure because she's characteristically similar, almost the same, but thanks~<p>

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><p>Eragonfan123454321 – thank you~ :)<p>

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><p>EminemBitches – its pretty simple to make Arya seem hurt, after all, the hardest people are probably the most brittle, but thanks man~<p>

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><p>Riptide – thanks~ ^^<p>

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><p>Darth Feanor – I'm sorry D: I had to my own little cruelties here and there… but yeah o.o;;<p>

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><p>Restrained Freedom – holy crap, was I seriously that dark and violent? O.O;; sorry, I hope that you're starting to see that Sarissa can be as scared as a little girl now ^^;; She's changing, see?<p> 


	19. Maela

**Chapter 18 – **_**Maela **_

"_Serenity does not live in noise. Serenity lives in the peace and quiet around you."_

_ ~Eragon Shadeslayer, Bromsson, last Free Dragon Rider, Heir Lord of Vroengard_

The harvest was long over, and Eragon could feel the swift northern breeze begin to make the air colder.

He ignored it.

After the training of the gauntlet, he felt no discomfort from the cold, it was little compared to the touch of those metal gloves. And besides, the repetitive Restorations Sarissa had used on him would protect him from frostbite.

But the sudden cold still wakened him, waking to find the bed empty, which was not usual. Sarissa had a habit of staying in bed until he woke up, indulgently kissing him awake if there was something that was important enough to keep him from his sleep.

He quickly dressed, checking to see which of her gauntlets were gone to pull on the matching pair, the gauntlets magically stretching to fit his hands and fingers perfectly, the links bending around the curve of his wrist like a second layer of metal skin.

When he walked outside, he saw the soldiers wearing tunics under their armor, gloves covering their fingers as they gave him a salute as he nodded in return.

Winter would soon be upon them, and being more north than most of Alagaësia, they would be hit hard. He would have to talk to Sarissa about how to keep the soldiers warm, for this too was her first winter at Teirm, first winter in Alagaësia in general.

He found her talking to a few cloaked figures.

To his shock, he saw a red gauntlet under the crimson cloak that covered them, hiding their features and most their body.

They looked up.

One flipped back her hood, a smirk upon her full lips as she winked.

"Ah, you must be Master Eragon," she said silkily, walking over to him with a cat-like grace that only Sarissa could best. He could see the hungry glint in her silvery eyes. "Mistress Sarissa holds you in high regard, master. I welcome you to the Pact."

Eragon inclined his head, "I am Eragon, mistress..."

"The name is Aelwyn," she smiled in a way that he knew would probably make most men start having not-so-clean thoughts about her.

"Aelwyn, you are not here to seduce my mate," Sarissa said with exasperation, showing that she and Aelwyn clearly knew each other well.

"No? What I pity, I would love to borrow him for a night, I'm sure he has much to offer," Aelwyn purred, running a hand down Eragon's unarmored chest.

"Aelwyn, you came for me."

The woman sighed melodramatically, "Oh, fine, be possessive," she teased, pouting. "But can I _please_ borrow him?"

Sarissa raised an eyebrow.

"Perhaps. Eragon, I hate to leave you again, my love, but I must go to the keep of my brothers and sisters, something has arisen that requires my attention. I will leave soon, but I will be leaving Aelwyn with you. Aelwyn, treat him as you would me."

"Does that mean I cannot seduce him?" she said, putting on big doe eyes.

Funny she should do the most innocent look for the most non-innocent wishes.

"He's hard to seduce," Sarissa said, once again raising an eyebrow. "Eragon, take care of Aelwyn, do not hurt her. Aelwyn, if you hurt Eragon in any way besides the way of bonding, I shall make you regret meeting me."

The other Hand smirked, "Of course, mistress. Anyways, I like the men in my bed intact."

Sarissa scowled, but Eragon could see the quiet tenderness behind the fierce façade. He could tell she was fond of the younger woman.

"I shall go and prepare. Eragon, come with me," she said.

* * *

><p>Right when he walked through the door, shutting it behind him, he found Sarissa's hands holding his collar as she dragged him against her, her lips hungrily finding his. He quickly found himself pinned to the wall as she slipped her fingers to his leather tunic's clasps, undoing them swiftly.<p>

"You must leave soon, mistress," he managed to say before she silenced him with another kiss.

"Not before I say my own farewells to you," she whispered throatily.

* * *

><p>Aelwyn stood up as Eragon and Sarissa came back out, chuckling when she saw his disheveled hair.<p>

"You just had to ruin his beautiful hair," she complained playfully, flouncing over to quickly pat down his hair. "You're so rough when you make love to men, Sarissa."

"He's been my first in decades, Aelwyn," Sarissa said, giving her a strange look. "How can you say that?"

"Well, I can tell this isn't your first time with him," the Hand said, rolling her eyes. "Ok, now go, shoo, I'll take good care of him for you."

Sarissa shrugged, gently pulling him down to kiss him swiftly before swinging herself up onto her stallion, giving Eragon one last smile before the horse leapt forward, the other hands bowing to him before their horses galloped after their leader, a bow from brother to brother, sister to brother, warrior of the gauntlet to warrior of the gauntlet. Eragon gave a simple salute.

Aelwyn took his hand, grinning, "Come on! Show me the city," she said, pulling him towards the shocked soldiers.

Eragon gave her a weird look, but he followed her.

* * *

><p>The Dragon Rider watched in amusement as his companion studied the piece of bread, frowning and sniffing it.<p>

"What is this?" Aelwyn demanded.

"Cinnamon bread," Eragon laughed. "Just try it, it is sweet."

She took a bite, glaring at the bread.

"It tastes strange."

Her expression was priceless. If anyone had seen a Hand of Death look at a piece of bread like Aelwyn was, they would be laughing. It was as if she found the cinnamon like a tiny bit of heaven.

"You like it?" he asked.

She looked up at him.

"It tastes like some of the bread back at my old homeland," she said quietly. "What was this called?"

"Cinnamon."

"I shall remember that," she said with resolution.

Eragon paid for the bread, thanking the baker as they walked out into the street, the people giving Eragon a friendly wave, bowing quickly to Aelwyn. They easily recognized the lord of their city, and a Hand of Death was easily distinguishable by his or her leather and the gauntlets.

The people had quickly come to accept him after he had singlehandedly faced the Varden on their stead, saving their husbands, brothers, and friends in the Teirm army from what would have been a quick slaughter at the hands of the "rebels."

Arya still irked him and barely a day passed without him thinking about her.

Something about her…

He pushed it out of his thoughts as Aelwyn knelt by a child who hid behind his frightened mother's legs.

She reached into her leather shirt, unclasping a button to reach a pocket hidden at her side, pulling out a gold coin.

"Buy yourselves some warm clothes," she said softly as she closed the young girl's hand around the coin that still had heat from being so close to her skin. She looked up at the mother, "The winter will be quick and harsh if it is anything like what the soldiers have told me about. You will not survive it in rags."

"Thank you, mistress," the woman whispered, unspeakable gratitude shining in her eyes.

Aelwyn gave a small smile, kissing the girl's forehead, "Now, hurry, the shops will soon be out of clothing and blankets."

They hurried off, the mother thanking the Hand profusely as she ran after her young child.

"What?" she asked when she caught his surprised gaze. "It is customary for the Hands to care for the people they fight for. Why fight for dying beggars?"

Eragon shrugged, "I did not expect it, that is all."

She smirked confidently, "I am not what a lot of people expect, Eragon. You will soon see that."

"When is Mistress Sarissa returning?"

Aelwyn shrugged as they continued walking down the street, "I do not know, it matters. But she is Sarissa, it will most likely be quick, lethal, and efficient. She has grown different… She's changed."

She glanced at him.

"What?" he asked, suddenly self-conscious.

"Do you know what you've done to her?" she asked softly.

"I… no…" he said carefully. "All I know is what she did to me."

The beautiful, silver-eyed Hand laughed, "Of course, she beat you, tortured you, broke you, bed you, bathed you, took care of you, but none of that matters. What you did to her does."

"What… did I do to my mistress?" he asked worriedly.

Aelwyn frowned.

"You truly do not know?" she said dubiously.

"No, I do not… Should I?"

She shrugged, "Perhaps not. You will learn from her when the time is right."

"I would rather you told me," he said hesitantly.

She gave a cheeky grin, "Nope!"

He raised an eyebrow.

She groaned, "No, please, not the eye, Sarissa does that enough for ten people… I don't want you doing the same thing…"

He smirked.

He was beginning to enjoy this woman's company.

* * *

><p>The plan was simple. The Varden's army at Therinsford was too small, they had started out with four-hundred thousand men, by the time they got to where they were, they were nearly cut in half with deaths and injuries.<p>

Relief came in the incarnation of a group of riders from Surda, saying that sixty score men of the Varden and Surda were marching from the borders of Surda to attack Dras-Leona, and once finished there, more men would come to garrison the city as the large army would march towards Gil'ead. From there, they would attack the city from two sides, the south and the west. When Arya told her mother of what was to happen, the elven queen agreed to send three thousand elven warriors to attack the city the moment the other armies did.

Arya went over the map a few times.

Two weeks and General Anwar would be pounding at the gates of Gil'ead with sixty thousand men behind him, twenty thousand coming from the west, and three thousand elves from the north.

Gil'ead would fall.

Now all they could do was wait for General Anwar's men to arrive.

The wait was the hardest though, and Arya was tempted to take Saphira and the dreamwraiths and attack Teirm. No doubt they would gladly follow her, they still had a leader imprisoned at that cursed city.

But she did not want to face her breaker again.

One time had shattered her.

The second time would haunt her for eternity.

* * *

><p>Aelwyn sat at the desk, looking through the papers Sarissa had left for them.<p>

"Food coming in from that coastal city, Kingston, weaponry from Gilead, nothing important," she muttered, waving her hand dismissively. Then she gave a coy smile, "I found something much more interesting."

He watched her out of the corner of his eye, lying down on the bed he and Sarissa had shared for… a month? Maybe a little more, maybe a little less, time was beginning to lose its meaning to him. Her eyes glinted with a playful lilt as she leapt gracefully to her feet, walking over to him.

"Perhaps you can guess?" she whispered alluringly.

"Not quite," he said in a calm voice.

His training had also included seduction and how to resist it.

Thank the stars for it, too. Any lesser man would probably have been already feeling the effects of her sultry gaze.

She strode over to him with slow deliberateness, her fingers capturing his chin as she pulled him up, leaning down to brazenly lick his lips, her own pulling sensually on the bottom lip.

"Do you desire me?" she breathed. "I can feel your want, your mind is open to me, as mine is open to you."

"Yes," he managed.

"You know I lust for you," her enticing voice replied against his lips. "Take me. Make love to me until every one of my muscles is in aching, heavenly pain."

"Mistress Aelwyn, I should not," he protested softly.

"Sarissa? Oh, come now, she will not mind," came the gentle lure of the siren's voice. "And if it bothers you, I shall say I drugged you."

"But…"

"Hush," she whispered, kissing his jaw, gently nibbling at his skin. "I want you, Eragon, I can tell Sarissa has taught you much, with weaponry, metal, and with skin. I am more interested in the last bit."

"Mistress Sarissa…"

"Would not mind if I borrowed you for a night…"

He found the beautiful woman gently pushing him back down on the bed, her legs wound around him as she slowly ground her hips against his, her fingers swiftly pulling off her tunic. She nuzzled her nose against his neck, straddling him in a way that showed she knew much more than he did.

She leaned down, kissing him fiercely, moaning as she pulled him against her.

He jerked away, stumbling to his feet and off the bed.

He took deep breaths, looking up at her to find her gaze holding amusement.

"I will have to try harder next time, aren't I?" she smiled.

"I would rather you not," Eragon said, bowing gallantly. "I shall leave you for a few moments, I must check on the soldiers."

He could hear her laughter as he strode out of the room.

* * *

><p>Pain.<p>

She could feel his pain.

She screamed as the blades of a thousand daggers stabbed into her chest, tearing her apart, his scream mixing with hers.

Blood. Blood was everywhere, it coated her gloves, covered the floor…

"Oh, come now, Eragon, I am having so much fun with you," a feminine voice purred. "You're so wonderful."

"Shut up," he replied, his voice a mere whisper, hoarse, airless.

"My, my, my, do I always have to remind you?"

A fist cracked against his and her jaw, throwing their head back.

"What is my name?"

"Mistress," Eragon gasped in pain.

A soft brush of lips, like his healing kiss, touched his jaw. The bone realigned itself, the split skin healing swiftly.

"Very good."

Then the torture began once again, and Arya found herself awake in her bed, sweat running down her face and neck in little rivulets. Her loose sleeping tunic was nearly drenched in it.

A sudden breeze blew across her exposed neck and the open area of her breasts, chilling her quickly. She slipped her shirt off, ignoring the goose bumps that immediately covered her, drying herself with what parts of the tunic her sweat did not touch, donning a new tunic. She swiftly pulled a long cloak around her, a cloak Eragon had sewn himself for her, made from the fur and hide of wolves and deer Saphira and Eragon had come across, dead, or for food. The outer layer was covered with a black fabric, the inside coated with the soft, incredibly comfortable fur of the animals. Though she had accepted the gift out of respect, she had found it was very fitting and it was quite warm in colder days.

Winter was approaching swiftly like the fast, hurried tread of an impatient assassin. It would no doubt have claimed many lives by the end of the next two months.

Her bare legs were gracefully covered by her cloak as she sought out Saphira, easily finding the huge dragoness. It was hard to miss a dragon.

She had "migrated" into a room specially made for dragons. Apparently Kuasta had housed Dragon Riders due to its closeness to the coast and the political and geographical advantages it held. Isolated from most other large cities, it mostly governed itself, calling upon the Dragon Riders if their soldiers came up with a problem too large for them to handle, and the visiting Rider would rest at the keep of the biggest city. Saphira now occupied that place, the windows closed tightly to keep out the cool breeze of a dying autumn.

She looked up with huge, unblinking dark eyes.

_You cannot sleep, princess?_ her friend's dragon asked softly. She too somehow turned her formal title into something endearing to the elf's ears, gentle, goading, almost mother-like.

_I had a nightmare and it woke me up_, Arya admitted as she flowed over to the dragoness, Saphira holding up a wing to her left flank, the warmer side where the fire in her belly raged, ready to be unleashed.

_It was of him?_

_Yes._

The elf gratefully lay down beside her friend, feeling the gentle, soothing warmth of the dragoness lying beside her slip through the cloak, drawing away the chill of the large room. Her back rested on the surprisingly comfortably scales of the dragon as the wing lowered, covering her neck down in a blanket of leathery warmth.

_Not a second goes by without me dreaming of him_, the dragoness said mournfully.

_I never should have left him…_

_Do not blame yourself for the past, Arya. The past is what it is, gone and dead. Now, look ahead. What do you see?_

_A bleak horizon._

_That is not what I see. I see Eragon coming back to me._

_How?_ Arya asked, burying her head against the wing covering her. _Even I cannot, Roran is right, I cannot see him coming back…_

_Because you care too much about him. You cannot let go of the fact that you left him. But let it drop, Arya. Let it break._

_I am afraid I shall break with it…_

_Then let it break in silence._

Arya fell asleep with the soft music of Saphira's breathing and mental humming lulling her into a quiet, silent rest.

* * *

><p>Translation: <em>Maela <em>(title) – Quiet

* * *

><p>TN: That single word happens to be Paolini's ^^<p>

* * *

><p>AN: Well, yes, I made Aelwyn to show that not all the Hands are deathly, quiet, lethal, cruel, and dark-like. Aelwyn, as you can tell, is playful. Uh… to an extent. She somewhat passes the "playful" boundary at a lot of moments. XD Did I ever mention I love Welsh names? Aelwyn is welsh~ Apparently a boy name, but in this way, it really does sound like a girl name… I personally like it ^^;; it means "fair" as in beautiful.<p>

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><p>Eradon son of awesomeness – LOL, thanks XD<p>

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><p>Restrained Freedom – eh, well, if he hurts Murtagh, who's on a message for the king, then she's openly disrespecting him, so he would find it pretty offensive. XD thanksss~<p>

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><p>EminemBitches – HAHAHAHAHA OMFG THATD BE HYSTERICAL LOL and thanks brah XD<p>

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><p>Cara Meirfert – thank youuu!~ ^^<p>

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><p>Sable1212 – hahaha, thanks bunches!<p>

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><p>Eagan2012 – thank you, I'll try and make it good!<p>

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><p>Darth Feanor – LOL, same, I had to remember he was somewhere else XD thanksss~<p> 


	20. Eom Kenna

**Chapter 19 – **_**Eom Kenna**_

"_I have had many teachers. Not many have survived to finish their training. I tire of it."_

_ ~Eragon Shadeslayer, Bromsson, last Free Dragon Rider, heir lord of Vroengard_

Eragon let his horse lead itself as he turned back to see Aelwyn following with ease, her eyes looking at the Spine Mountain ahead. She caught his gaze, her sly smile now a usual sight whenever she looked at him.

"There is a cleft, you wished for it?"

"Yes, I shall teach you my specialty," the female Hand said with a hint of pride.

Eragon raised an eyebrow, "Not involving a bed, correct?"

She licked her lips, "I could do that too, if you wish."

"I was making sure that you were _not_ going to do that," he said wryly, slowing his horse down so he could be beside her, pushing in her pouting lips.

He swiftly drew back when she put her cherry-rose lips around his finger, licking it suggestively. She laughed at his shock, spurring her horse faster.

* * *

><p>When they got to the cliff, she gave an approving nod, slipping a hand into the saddle's pouch, pulling out to black bands of metal, slipping them over her palms. Her fingers curled around them and that's when he noticed the extra length with holes made for fingers, ending with spiked hooks.<p>

"Climbing bands," she said as she stabbed the tools into the rock cliff. "Made of a special metal, the same metal our gauntlets are made of. They cut into regular stone and metal as if they were butter, but the actual blades are made of regular steel, so they will not drag through the stone, only the tips cut easily. They're serrated, it helps hold you onto the stone."

He nodded, appreciating their practical design, uncomplicated and simple, yet he could see they were very helpful for scaling tough surfaces.

Aelwyn quickly jabbed the spikes into the rock, pulling herself up, using her other spiked hand to jab into a space not five hand-widths from the first, about at her head's height.

She expertly climbed about twenty horse-paces before climbing back down, dropping the last few paces down.

"Here," she said, tossing him the deadly, sharp-edged tools, ones he deftly caught. Hands of Death tossed anything, swords, crossbows, arrows, throwing daggers, it was usual, and it kept their reaction times honed and precise. If they were not, a simple Restoration would heal the wound easily.

He slipped them on like she had, testing them on the cliff a few times. Starting to climb, he looked down to see Aelwyn climbing up with him, "To the top!" she called, grinning like a maniac.

The top was more than twenty houses above their heads.

She was a maniac.

She laughed, "Eragon, all Hands are maniacs, no one else revels in pain like we do. Now climb! The best teacher is fear and the imminence of death!"

She boldly attacked the cliff, scaling it with practiced ease, swiftly passing him.

Sensing her unspoken challenge, he smiled, climbing after her.

* * *

><p>When they had reached the top, both were slightly out of breath, resting on the large plateau, filled with coniferous trees and a few deciduous. A small lake, about three times the size of Saphira, dominated most the cliff's top, fish flopping out of it every once in a while.<p>

"Now you know how to climb," Aelwyn smiled. "Now, let me teach you something else. Stealth."

Their horse ride had taken most the morning and afternoon, their climb another hour or so, and night was swiftly coming, the sun falling earlier as winter came closer and closer.

"I know how to be quiet," he said uncertainly.

"Not like a Hand of Death assassin," she said quietly.

She rummaged through the bag she had brought up, pulling out a black suit like the regular uniform, only having no other color. Even the metal gloves were made utterly of black metal, the color dull and refusing to shine. The cowl of the cloak was bigger, the cloak itself a little thinner.

"Thinner cloaks, less wind, less sound, less of a chance being noticed," Aelwyn explained, tossing them to him. "Change."

He looked around, "Right here?"

"Right there. Unless you wish for me to help you with them."

He caught the playful glint in her eyes.

"I think I can manage."

She smirked, "Very well. Now, once you're done, find me, and sneak up on me. Just tap me on the right shoulder without letting me notice you."

"Easy enough."

"Oh, no it isn't," she said knowingly as she ran into the woods.

* * *

><p>Eragon flitted from tree to tree, the darkness of the early night hiding him easily, even the birds and animals unable to notice the shadow that slipped from hiding spot to hiding spot with grace and precision.<p>

He saw Aelwyn sitting at the edge of the lake, and he soundlessly stalked forward.

Then she spun around her, fist crashing against his open palm as he instinctively blocked her blow.

"How did you know?" he asked softly.

She smiled, "Your heart was beating too loudly. You need to stay calm, even when there's an arrow pointed at your heart, you stay calm. It is the way of an assassin of the Pact."

"No need to be that stealthy."

"Why is that?"

He gave a mischievous grin.

"Because I can always do this."

Aelwyn shrieked in surprise as he pushed her into the lake.

She shot out of the water, tackling him to the ground as they quickly grappled, laughing the whole time. She grabbed him, tossing him towards the water only to find his leg under hers, knocking her off balance, making both of them fall into the water.

She resurfaced, pushing her wait hair out of her face, stripping off her wet clothes to throw them ashore, laughing with youthful joy when a small tidal wave conjured by Eragon's magic swept towards her. She blocked it with her hands as he unclasped his shirt, tossing the tunic ashore with Aelwyn's. Seeing she didn't have her gauntlets, she had no intention of seducing him—yet.

He ducked underwater to avoid her own wave, finding her a mere inch away as she tackled him, pinning him to the shore, an easy smile on her lips.

"Don't you want your pants to dry too?" she asked, eyes sparkling with mischief.

"I'd rather not take them off around you," he said wryly.

She laughed, "Don't worry, I won't seduce you, after all, I need my gauntlets to do that."

He swiftly did so, lying back against the wet grass, looking up at the moon as Aelwyn waded over her curvaceous body draping the soft blades by him as she watched him curiously.

"Has Sarissa ever told you that you're a rare, strange man, Eragon?" she asked softly.

"Many times over," he replied, his fingers drawing in the shallow water, the ripples from his finger flowing away. "She also told me I frightened her."

The Hand looked over at him, her eyes capturing his gaze, her misty-silver ones holding his easily.

"You would frighten any Hand, Eragon."

"She never told me why… Why do I frighten you?"

Aelwyn broke their gaze, "That is for her to tell you. I suppose you could seduce her into telling you with _that_," she said, suddenly giving a smile he didn't feel all that safe about as her eyes traveled downward.

"I do not necessarily plan on that."

She laughed, "Of course, but she can always get you in her bed. Can I get you in the grass?"

He raised an eyebrow, coaxing an exasperated groan out of her.

Needless to say, he simply declined her offer.

* * *

><p>She rested on the grass beside him, her head lying atop his chest as her fingers lazily trailed down his chest.<p>

He found it somewhat distracting.

"You should sleep," he said, looking down at her.

"Sleep never comes easily to me," she admitted, sighing as she flipped over on her back, now using his arm as a pillow. "It never has."

He turned so they were nearly nose-to-nose, something he preferred not to do with a woman as seductive as her, but she didn't take advantage of his closeness, just caught his gaze and held it.

"And why is that?"

She hesitated, then shrugged, "Reasons I wish not to speak of. Now, _you_ sleep."

"What if I said that sleep is hard for me to pursue?"

Aelwyn smirked, "Then I'll knock you out."

"The horror. Why do I have to get the violent bedmate?"

The Hand laughed, wrapping her arms around him, a leg draping across his body easily as she rested her nose against his cheek.

"Sleep. I shall wake you tomorrow, Captain Liyan will be wondering where we are."

Eragon gave a mirthless chuckle, "No, he wouldn't."

And it was the truth. Loyal to the death, unquestioning, and utterly sure that whatever the Hands said was law, they would not question their extended absence for training.

Loyalty hurt unless you happened to be a god.

He closed his eyes, feeling the soft breathing of his new friend tickling his skin in a way that neither urged him to scratch or act upon the funny sensation. It just felt… nice.

Funnily, she fell asleep faster than he did.

* * *

><p>The man with black armor strode forward, his sword held in a powerful, two-handed grip. The dragon-head helmet was made of metal he knew—<em>málmar<em>, the same metal his own armor was made from. Imbued with magic, there was little that could pierce it.

"Who are you?" he asked hoarsely.

"Prophesies speak of our demise together, my king," the man said in a voice that neither boomed nor was quiet, yet somehow held the strength of a thousand dragons behind that single sound.

Galbatorix reached for his sword's hilt, finding only air where it should have been.

He threw his hand out, "_Andlát finna ono_!"

Black mist swirled out of the king's fingertips, but the spell just curled around the figure, the man untouched and still very much alive.

The sword spun in a deadly, speed arc, stabbing into the ground right in front of his head.

"Fate has spoken."

The sword rose one last time.

Galbatorix shot up in his hard bed, sweat pouring down his face and beard.

He quickly clamped down on the relieved sigh that threatened to escape his throat.

Damn fates.

He was their one and only roadblock.

Fate would never touch him.

* * *

><p>Arya clutched the blanket to herself as she nearly leapt off the bed, his name still a cry on her lips.<p>

"Eragon!"

That single word was more of a wail than a call.

A desperate, horrified, longing wail.

She took a deep breath, looking at her hands to find them trembling. Despite her best efforts, they refused to stay still.

Her whole body was shivering, and it wasn't from the cool breeze of the late harvest season.

Eragon's ragged screams would haunt her for the rest of her life.

Hopefully it would be short so she could be released from the torment of knowing his pain and what he had gone through. She would have gladly gone through twice as worse for his sake, and yet he had gone through ten days of torture for the Varden's sake.

For her sake

If Helgrind was the Gate of Death, wherever that Hand of Death stayed was the Gate of Pain and Hell.

She had left him to that… that _monster_…

"Stars, forgive me," she whispered hoarsely, tears trickling down her fair, flawless cheeks. "Forgive me, Eragon…"

He had taught her so much.

This may have been his last lesson to her.

Sacrifice.

* * *

><p>Translation: <em>Eom Kenna <em>(title) – To Teach

_Andlát finna ono!_ – Death find you! (death spell)

* * *

><p>TN: <em>Kenna<em> is mine~

* * *

><p>AN: I know, it might a bit confusing, but I did not go through all of Eragon's breaking, like the part where Sarissa found out about his feelings for Arya. I skipped the vast, vast majority of it. I'll give more insight to that soon, through the use of flashbacks and such of the like ^^<p>

**IMPORTANT NOTICE**

No, this story is not going on hiatus -.-;; in case you were worried.

Thing is school literally starts tomorrow (which means I need to get up at five-thirty every morning… ugh) and which means I will not have as much spare time to write as I did before, and I still have lots of things to worry about, I promised Kimmy I'd try and hang with her, and then there's the thing about my promise to Anna and Kathy and Cathy I'd come to their orchestra performances if I could, and then Kristina and Chan and…

Nvm, you don't need to know my life plans, but yeah, I'll be busy and won't be updating as much, and what's worse, my back-up chapters (pretty much chapters 11-18, ones I wrote even before I finished chapter 4) are emptied and dried out, so I have to do a lot of writing and brainstorming. So my chapters will be coming slower and slower, but I promise I shall update as much as I can, thanks for your support! ^^ keep reviewing, it keeps me motivated and happy! ^^ lollll

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><p>Cara Meirfert – thank youuuu~ ^^ wait, you find seduction amusing? ;) LOL<p>

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><p>Salamender – ehh, in a few chapters. O.o;; come to think of it, I have his escape planned out, just not… when…. Heh….<p>

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><p>Restrained Freedom – well, thorn is used to people bowing down to Murtagh and stuff like that, so… yeah, if she disrespects him, it's a breach of protocol, and it's offensive to them. And she called Galbatorix a "bastard king" so he has more reason to punish her. thanksss!~ :)<p>

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><p>EminemBitches – LOL, its fine, they still motivate me :D<p>

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><p>Eradon son of awesomeness – PAHAAA, is that a suggestion? ;) XD<p>

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><p>Taty98 – thank youuuuu! ^^# and it will be sometime in the next five chapters, probably less, more like next two chapters or so, but I'll cover a heck of a lot in those two or three chapters. :D thanks for the reviewww~<p>

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><p>Eragonfan123454321 – thanks! I'll do my besttt XD<p>

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><p>Darth Feanor – eh, I forget I haven't read the books in forever, and LOLLLL XD I miss that witch too, I should make her get out of Belatona and talk to Arya. XD thanks for reminding me of that crazy woman and for the reviewww<p>

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><p>Sarbina – uhh, is your name Sabrina? XD and… uh… o.o;;; no?...<p>

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><p>Eagan2012 – nooo, thank youuu :D I'll try to keep you guessing! ^^<p> 


	21. Pömnuria Fricayas Fyanmáor

**Chapter 20 – **_**Pömnuria Fricayas Fyanmáor**_

"_Any friend of my friend is my friend. Any enemy of my enemy is my friend. Any friend of my enemy… I shall decide after meeting them."_

_~Saphira Bjatrskular, "Queen of the Skies," Brightscales, last free dragon _

Aelwyn continued to train him over the next two weeks, giving him time to fully master the power he now commanded as a novice Hand of Death. According to her, she had no doubt he would become a High Master, a warrior of that gauntlet that did not specialize in one of the five classes of Hands, but mastered every single one of the classes' powers and strengths, filling in their weakness from his or her training from the other four classes. His sword master skills left him open from long range. His training as an Assassin Hand let him escape detection, and his skills as a spellweaver and Hand of Spells let him deal with anything he couldn't reach with arm and sword. His assassin training gave him little weaponry due to their noise. His abilities as a Hand on Hand gave him a clear advantage as Aelwyn dutifully taught him everything she knew. She was a Mistress of Three, having conquered the tests of the Assassin, Hand on Hand, and Hand of the Blade. It was a powerful mix, but they were all meant for close range, which he soon learned in their spars. If he stayed back and refrained from charging her, he could stay back and use spells to occupy her.

She still beat him as many times as he defeated her. She was lighter on her feet and she almost seemed to know what he was doing. Even after she had taught him to block other Hands from reading his mind, she could still anticipate his movements almost as well as he could execute them.

This is where he found himself at the moment, pinned to the grass as Aelwyn panted above him, her face flushed from the exertion of their spar. His black sword lay a few feet away, her gauntlets clashing against his, negating the effects of the metal gloves, also stopping him from using its power against her.

She smirked, moving suggestively against his hips, "Well, I could come to like this position."

Just then, Lieutenant Agier ran over to them, bowing without taking note of their intensely provocative placing, "Lord Eragon! Lady Aelwyn, the lookouts have seen Mistress Sarissa and her entourage coming from the north!"

Aelwyn leapt up with joy, "You better not be lying, soldier."

"Milady, I would never lie to you!" the man exclaimed with horror.

Eragon knew the man was scared to death and would never lie to either of them or Sarissa. They respected, feared, and were loyal to the death to any Hand.

"Lieutenant, I wish for you to take your men and prepare for her return," Eragon said, getting to his feet as he began to run out of the keep's courtyard and into the city. "Inform the city that the Lady of Teirm has come back!"

"Yes, milord!" the lieutenant called, snapping a crisp salute before running off, shouting orders to his soldiers.

Eragon felt his heart soar without reason when he saw Sarissa thunder into the city, the soldiers cheering as she leapt of her horse, raising a hand in greeting to the captains and the officers who gave her a jaunty salute.

Much had changed. They still feared her, but since Aelwyn's presence at the city and Eragon's gentle understanding, they had come to trust them as much as they respected the Hands' prowess in battle. Teirm soldiers were no short on honor and bravery and strength themselves, but no soldier, no elf, no anything, could stand up against a Hand without getting slaughtered unless there happened to be twenty magicians helping that one man.

"Mistress!"

Her face was the epitome of happiness and beauty.

"My love," she said in a silken voice, capturing him in her strong embrace, her lips claiming his with pent-up passion and lust.

None of the soldiers gave them a second glance. None questioned a Hands' ability to handle a kiss and still kill a thousand men afterwards without any hesitation.

She drew back, smiling so angelically she could have been a good spirit right then.

"By the fates, I love you so much, Eragon," she murmured. "Two weeks have gone by so slowly, I longed for you so much, my heart pined for you, I wanted to do nothing but ride back on my horse and hold you eternally in my arms."

He felt her soft breath against his neck as she buried her face in the bend under his jaw, her gentle kiss evoking strange emotions he didn't recognize in him.

"I have missed you beyond belief, mistress, you look so beautiful," he whispered into her ear, his arms holding him against him tightly, afraid to let go of her.

Aelwyn curtsied, winking, "Well, you two can go make love, I shall go find some fun with a soldier or so."

Looping her arm around a shocked Captain Liyan, she pulled the handsome soldier after her.

"I pity him," Eragon chuckled, watching her walk away, her hips moving in such a way that would captivate any man's attention.

Sarissa laughed, "I have better plans for… _us_."

The way she said "us" sent shivers down his spine.

Her kiss lingered on his jaw.

"Two weeks is a long time to stay abstinent from your touch. We have a lot of lost time to make up."

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><p>Emotions he had a hard time figuring out flooded through him. Relief, gratitude, warmth, the flutter of his heart as she slept with her head rested on his chest, her lush, pale-gold hair, almost a platinum hue, tickling his bare skin.<p>

She gave a small sigh of contentment, nuzzling his neck, mumbling something in her sleep, making him smile.

Then it struck him.

He quickly let go of her, draping her in the blanket, pulling on his leather pants as he walked to the balcony door, opening it to let the cold night breeze blow across him. He felt no cold, just….

Just strange.

He leaned against the stone rail, his breath coming out misty as the cold air solidified the air leaving his nostrils and mouth.

He raked a hand through his lengthening hair, something Sarissa said fitted him and loved to run her fingers through as they lay in the bed in the throes of passion.

"By the stars…"

"My love?"

He looked behind him to see Sarissa with only a robe wrapped around her gorgeous body, her long legs having goose bumps running all over them from the crisp air.

"Are you alright? You'll catch a cold, _elsa_, the Restoration doesn't make you invincible," she said softly, walking over to him to put the robe around his shoulders, her soft breasts pressed to his back as she curled her arms around his neck, sharing the warmth of her body in the chilly night.

"I just needed some fresh air to think," he admitted, turning around to pull her against him, feeling the soft flesh of her lips brush his neck before she rested her ear against his heart.

"Think of what, my love?"

He sighed, shrugging, "I know not, really."

She looked up at him, her mind brushing his lovingly.

"Then it matters not as much as you matter to me."

She drew him back inside, their desires awakening hungrier than ever.

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><p>General Anwar was horrified and stricken at the news of Eragon's capture and breaking.<p>

"Never thought that the boy could break," the aging man said, tiredly sighing. "So this is war? The young, the bravest, fall prey to an enemy worse than a blade just to be turned against us. No one will ever work up the resolve to be the one to end our Rider's life."

And he was right.

No duty would convince Arya to be the one who put the blade in his heart.

She couldn't even hurt him without bringing her heart crashing and shattering again.

But she had a duty to finish.

And until that bastard king lay on the ruins of Urû'baen, she would always have a duty.

The word was close to becoming sickening her.

Nasuada watched Arya, the elven princess as stoic and calm as ever. The hawk-like green eyes raked over the path ahead of them, messengers leaving and returning very once and a while. General Anwar's army marched from south of Gil'ead, a group of messengers riding as fast as they could to the elven army waiting at the borders of _Du Weldenvarden_.

They would be at the fated city by nightfall.

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><p>Murtagh sat across the table in the keep's elaborate, lavishly furnished library. Thorn had somehow fit through the massive doors, his bulk taking up most the empty space, but it made no difference, no one thought of disturbing them.<p>

Eragon poured some herbal tea for them, taking a sip from it as he slid the other cup to his half brother.

It seemed a little normal, talking to the man who had fought alongside him so many times. Anyways, there was no need to be wary of each other. They were both chained to something stronger than themselves, though Eragon had a very loose, long leash.

"Tastes of barley," Murtagh said as he took a drink.

"Dathé tea," Eragon explained.

Dathé was a plant that, when put into tea, had a taste of barley and a slight hint of mint and some other exotic taste he never thought to figure out.

"It's good," the Red Rider said as they sat in comfortable silence, drinking as Thorn looked over the books. Apparently the young dragon was fond of reading tales of valor, something he wished to do but could not due to his bonds.

Eragon sighed, leaning back, "Murtagh, I am not your brother."

The other Dragon Rider raised an eyebrow, shrugging and nodding at the same time.

"No, truly. Our mother was Selena. Your father was Morzan. Mine was Brom."

His half-brother gave another shrug-nod, "I know. It was too obvious. You have his stubbornness, his strength, his wit, almost everything about him, but you and I share our mother's eyes and her wisdom. Well… at least we _used_ to share her eyes."

Eragon shrugged helplessly, knowing how different his eyes were, silver and bronze in contrast to the warm brown they had been.

"She spoke to me."

"Same," Murtagh said quietly, his eyes distant as he gazed at the books without really looking. "She's gorgeous, so… so loving, just like what I always thought she was like…"

"Agreed."

Thorn sniffed a book, _Do one of you mind pulling this book out for me?_

Murtagh chuckled, using a quick spell to levitate the book in front of his dragon as the red dragon used the back of his claw to flip the pages, his huge eyes squinting as he read.

"I never knew dragons had a taste for literature," Eragon smiled.

"No, Thorn is just the weirder of us two," the Red Rider teased, rubbing his dragon's snout affectionately.

_And most importantly, the wiser of the two of us_, he snorted.

"Wisely said, oh, old and ancient one," Murtagh winked, earning himself a lungful of smoke from the indignant dragon, the three erupting into laughter soon after Murtagh swore enough for ten people.

Things seemed a little better.

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><p>Sarissa looked up in surprise as Eragon walked in, his face grim, eyes haunted. It was the look she saw when she had broken him. It was the look she saw every once in a while when she taught him her tongue, Cadian, accidentally reminding him of his past.<p>

"Mistress?"

She got up, walking over to him quickly, kissing him, "My love? You look worried, what is the matter?"

"I… I don't know, mistress… it's that elf… I feel like I have been disloyal to you, mistress, forgive me…"

She didn't smile, just drew him into her embrace.

"Everyone has their mysteries, Eragon. You have proven that you care for me so many times I cannot begin to count. Your care, that's all I need. You and your gentle care."

"I cannot think, mistress, my past… my past, I think I am starting to see it again… it frightens me, mistress, I am frightened…"

Her heart broke at his small voice.

Ever since she had met him, he was that strong young man, nearly a man, actually. He was always that pillar that was buried in the ground with such strength only the stars could uproot him.

She had nearly done the same.

And it hurt her.

She kissed him, lovingly, trying to convey that she didn't care if he thought of other women. She was his, he was hers, they were mated, by pain, by strength, nothing could break that bond. Even in death it would remain, though shaken, though thin, though wavering in power and influence, she knew it would stay. A Hand's bond was like no other. Death could not separate them. Hate would draw them closer. Care would bind the wounds.

She would draw him closer than she would ever allow herself to with any other man.

For she loved him.

Not lusted for him.

No, she…

"I love you, Eragon, my quiet angel," she whispered against his lips. "By the stars… I love you so much…"

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><p>Translation: <em>Pömnuria Fricayas Fyanmáor <em>(title) – My Friends' Enemy

_Elsa _(Cadian) - Love

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><p>TN: <em>Fyanmáor<em> and_ elsa_ are minee~ and if anyone is curious where I get my Old Norse words, here's the link - http:/www. utexas. edu / cola / centers / lrc / eieol /

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><p>AN: Quick thing – Classes of Hands are not like… literally jobs, forced. They choose and if they want, they can give up the uniform of that class and go to another one, or start training in another one. Just because they aren't part of the Hands of the Blade's ranks doesn't mean they can't wield a blade, it just means they aren't part of their ranks, and same with the other specializations.<p>

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><p>Classes – Assassin Hand, Hand of the Blade, Hand on Hand (fists and gauntlets and other body parts not considered a literal weapon), Hand of Spells, and Hand of Unconventional Arts (seduction, traps, tricks, strange weaponry such as maces, which are considered strange to the Hands and the land they came from.)<p>

Hands of Unconventional Arts use anything in their inventory, knives, blades, rocks, their body, they're masters of deception and they can seduce even the most strong-willed men and women. Sarissa is a High Mistress, so she could easily seduce Eragon and any other man. They're probably the one class you didn't understand as easily, so that's why I'm explaining it. XD

And those who might think the name Agier is somewhat related to Agiel, I didn't really think about those weapons, but apparently _-geirr_ is identical with Old Icelandic _geirr, _which means "spear," and the name Ágeirr was thus. :D

…

I never noticed that I never mentioned what color Sarissa's hair was…. So I added it in here, if I did and I never noticed it, then do feel free to tell me ^^

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><p>Restrained Freedom – LOL, glad to know you think Eragon's living the life of a pimp ;) and perhaps? Maybe? But trust me, before we get there, Eragon is going to suffer. In less physical ways.<p>

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><p>Viro – thank youuuu!~<p>

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><p>Cara Meirfert – SORRYYY, I'll still updateee!~ XD thanks too :)<p>

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><p>Eradon son of awesomeness – thanksss XD<p>

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><p>EminemBitches – lol, thanks man~ ^^<p>

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><p>Darth Feanor – I really will XDXD thanksssss<p>

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><p>Eagan2012 – LOL, ikr? So weird… ugh, thanks thoughhh! :D<p>

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><p>Salamender – perhaps? ;)<p> 


	22. Du Ilumëo

**Chapter 21 – **_**Du Ilumëo**_

"_Here is a very useful weapon, son. The truth. Tell the enemy the truth, they will falter. Tell them a lie, and they will not want to believe you, but they may. Tell them the truth, altered, distorted, and disfigured, they will tremble in horror at your feet. What use is a sword when the truth stabs truer than the truth? It never misses the heart."_

_~Brom, Rider of the First Order, slayer of Morzan and his dragon, former rider of Saphira, deceased mentor, father, and teacher of Eragon Shadeslayer_

It hurt.

Eragon coughed, his chest contracting with pain as he tried his best not to wince. It had suddenly appeared about a week ago, but it had never bothered him.

Until today.

"Are you sick?" Sarissa asked worriedly, taking his hand.

He shook his head, trying to tell what was happening to him.

"My heart aches… no, not… not like homesick… it feels like it is pulling at me, leading me… I know not…"

Her eyes caught his, shock written in her gorgeous eyes.

"Follow it. Your ancestor calls to you, my love."

He kissed her, "I shall be back as fast as I can.

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><p>Arya slashed everyone who got in her path wearing red and black down, Ralmir's men now having golden sigils on their armor to distinguish them from other Imperials.<p>

It had been hours since the attack and the breach of the gates, the armies pouring in as the elves effortlessly scaled the walls with sturdy iron ladders with expert archers to kill those trying to stop their ascent. The north wall was overrun, as was most of the other walls, but the soldiers were valiantly holding them off, and it infuriated her.

It worried her.

She never lost her fury, not even in battle.

Yet here she was, on the verge of screaming in rage, ready to spill blood and doing it without hesitation.

Calayn was beside her, the twin swords she held blurs of death as she easily danced through the enemy's ranks, wreaking havoc wherever she went, using her wings as weapons to shatter limbs, using the strong bones and muscles to good use, surprising the soldiers as air apparently solidified and struck them across the face.

The dreamwraiths pierced the hastily formed shield wall, expertly splicing into the center, the closely-clumped soldiers having no chance against the beings who simply hacked and slaughtered around two soldiers with each swing.

Then a dreamwraith screamed, falling to the ground as a woman touched his back, bringing him down.

A woman in red leather.

Her dark hair, somewhere between brown and black, was braided on one side, the other side tied back with a strange, half-headdress, but there was no doubt who she was.

She kicked the dead dreamwraith away, his sword falling out of his lifeless fingers. The others instantly turned invisible, keeping their distance from her. The archers fired at her, but the arrows all blunted, burned, and turned to ashes within five paces of her.

Harsh, silver eyes turned to her. Not warm gray, but metal-like silver eyes. Unyielding, powerful.

Arya saluted with her sword, waiting as the woman nodded at her in return, drawing her own sword, made of scarlet metal.

Then the woman hesitated, her brows furrowing as she put a hand to her heart.

Her eyes widened.

Sheathing her sword, she ran to the stables, slaughtering anyone in her path as she untied a horse, leaping on the stallion as she rode away from the battle and out of the city.

"Coward!" a soldier shouted after her retreating form.

Something was wrong.

That Hand of Death could have easily slain her and many men before being killed, but she ran.

And the look of shock and horror in her eyes…

Something was wrong.

Something was horribly wrong.

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><p>Eragon let his heart guide his hands, his stallion, a stallion of a Hand, reacting almost immediately to the slight alterations of the weight of the soft-leather reins. The Hands respected their stallions, giving them names and taking good care of them. Many horses had been healed many times by Restoration, giving them immensely long lives. Sarissa said that the horse he was riding, her personal war stallion, was almost as old as she was.<p>

In other words, this horse was nearly a century and a half old.

He patted Iawen's neck, the horse nickering softly as he kept a steady trot.

"A little to the north, friend," he said softly. "_Tula ir'iolen_."

Iawen obediently shifted to the northern side a bit more, breaking into a faster pace, clearly done with resting at a trot.

Eragon pulled the stallion to a stop.

A skeleton lay in the road, Iawen avoiding it nervously. Not much scared a stallion, no sword, no arrow, no shield, no spear, but a skeleton?

The Hand gently patted the horse's side, "Whoever it is, they are dead, Iawen, fear not," he promised, reaching out with his conscious to touch the bleached, dry bones.

Then he saw why the horse was so nervous.

The path ahead of them was littered with bones, half-decayed bodies, and the recently dead.

Eragon slid off Iawen, walking through the path of the dead.

He gently put a man lying in a strange position in a more natural pose, putting the dead man's hands across his chest.

Hundreds of the dead filled his vision, beyond hundreds. No wonder the Spine was supposedly haunted.

Humans, a few elves, Imperial soldiers, farmers, dwarves, Urgals, there was no shortage of any race.

He swung himself up onto Iawen, urging the skittish horse forward.

"_Tàth fylwyn! Tàth wynla fela ya_!"

His heart nearly wrenched out of his chest when Iawen finally turned around the mountain's foot, a long valley with cliffs nearly thirty houses high

The horse refused to take another step, prancing agitatedly.

"Stay here," he said softly to the horse, leaping off as he strode past the dead bodies and skeletons.

The horse neighed after him.

"_Arös_!" he called. "_Arös, diwyn fila dilayal fwyn_!"

He walked to away from the Iawen, the stallion obeying his master's command.

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><p>Iawen didn't like valleys. He had been ambushed thirty-thousand times too many to enter one willingly. The bones and the feeling of death made it even worse. What more, he could see the cave at the end. All horses hated caves. You couldn't see. You can't see, you can fall, you fall, it was pretty much fatal. If one of a horse's legs broke, the chance of them getting out of the cave was pretty slim. Caves, valleys, and among too many regular people. Three things Iawen hated.<p>

And right now, two of them stood before him.

The horse whinnied, reluctantly resting beside a tree.

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><p>Eragon ignored the stench of death which had eluded him for so long due to favorable winds. Now it struck him like a fist. This was the valley of the dead. Only his days of harsh training steeled his will from making him puke.<p>

The cave grew until it was nearly twenty paces wide and about a house and a half high. A single stone, made from a sturdy, durable stone, sat in front of the mouth of the cave.

He knelt by it, gently brushing the dust off, moving the skeletal hand of a man who had died with his hand on the stone.

_Here lieth Lord Rider Kuthian_

_Brother, my captain, my leader, my friend_

_Dieth with honor he did, protecting the lives of the innocent_

_Forever may he resteth in peace_

_Here lieth the Lord Rider who showed us true sacrifice_

Eragon touched the stone reverently.

_Here lieth lord Rider Kuthian._

This was the Rock of Kuthian.

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><p>Arya looked up with surprise as a very familiar black cat leapt onto the chair beside her, jumping onto the table soon after, looking at her with very familiar intelligence.<p>

"Solembum?"

The werecat purred, his tail flicking across her face in a way she guessed was meant to be affectionate.

"What are you doing here?"

"He followed me here," an even more familiar voice said with slight annoyance.

She spun to see Angela striding over wearing a gown that accented her well-crafted form, but lying under her deceiving youthful beauty was lethality and wisdom not many could hope to match in a hundred lifetimes.

"That fool Eragon has gotten himself captured, has he now?" the herbalist asked with frightening casualness, plopping herself down into the chair next to Arya, picking up the mug of tea the elf was drinking, frowning with distaste. "Why get _lethalas_ tea?"

Despite her obvious spite for the bitter tea Arya found soothing after a battle, the witch took a quick sip, setting it down again.

"Where have you been, Angela?" Arya asked softly.

The woman waved her hand around, "Oh, here and there, over there and somewhere over there, all over the place really. Was I at Vroengard?" the witch asked, glancing at the werecat who watched her with boredom. "Yes? Oh… Alright, I was also at Vroengard."

The elf raised an eyebrow.

"Anyways, how are you feeling?"

"How do you think?"

"Oh, that is good."

"Horrible."

"Ah… That's good."

Angela grinned like a child.

"Do you wish to see something? I recently got this from a sorceress I killed for being so insolent about Eragon."

The princess stared.

"Don't worry, I washed the bloodstains," the herbalist grumbled. "I _am_ a civilized woman."

She reached into her gown's fold, producing a piece of glass the size of her combined hands, fingers outstretched. A mirror actually, cut precisely and elegantly.

"Spells, I can hide Solembum in this gown if I need to but he rather likes walking than being stuffed inside a spell," she explained.

"What does the mirror do?"

"Simple! But simplicity is beauty I suppose. It shows you the one thing you treasure above all else, your greatest weakness, your greatest strength, and your greatest regret, not necessarily in that order."

The elf looked at the witch suspiciously.

"Why do you wish for me to look into it?"

"Did I say I wished for you to look into it?" the woman asked innocently.

"You imply it very clearly."

"Ah, that is true. Those who know those four things are usually much wiser and they act accordingly. Think. You are truly confused, Arya, you may deny it, but I know a lost soul when I see one. A spirit recognizes a kindred soul. But after looking into the mirror, I have found life much more enjoyable despite Solembum's dull company."

The cat meowed with irritation.

"Anyways, do you wish to take me up on my offer? I am pretty sure you shall know what you see, but certainty is a gift."

Arya looked at the witch, seeing only sincerity and a strange maternal care in her weird eyes.

"Show me."

The werecat leapt off the table, flitting away into the darkness.

Angela simply set the mirror in front of her, leaning back.

"I have already seen all I will ever see. I will not see what you will."

She looked down.

Angela watched as the elf's brilliant, green, gem-like eyes narrowed.

Then the expression softened. No trace of harshness was in her face, something that was rare on the diplomat's façade. Her fingers stopped right above the mirror, her eyes now shimmering with tears.

Tears were something Angela had never seen from the tough, diamond-shelled elven princess. But now here they were.

Solembum returned with a mouse in his mouth, tossing it up to swallow it whole before watching Arya with large, green, unblinking eyes.

_You should not have shown her._

_The truth pierces more harshly than a thousand swords. And sometimes, pain is a way to rouse a deaf, mute, blind world of fools and idiots._

Arya's lips opened, closed, her eyes wide with horror and tears trickling down her fair cheeks.

_Not all pain is good_, the werecat protested.

_No. But this pain is not bad._

* * *

><p>Eragon sat in front of the gravestone, silently murmuring prayers.<p>

There was a reason he was alive and the thousands of dead corpses and skeletons had not survived the journey. No battle had taken place here. He could feel the power radiating around him, volatile, dangerous, alert and jumpy.

_Then, when all seems lost and your power is insufficient, go to the Rock of Kuthian and speak your name to open the Vault of Souls._

"What is my name?" he whispered.

_You seek a question you already know, One Who Wanders._

He looked at the rock.

_You speak._

_Of course I do, Wanderer. Speak thine name, and passeth. The cave art my domain. The valley art my protector. Thou art my seeker, and thou hath foundeth me. Speaketh thine name._

_I do not know my name._

A hint of annoyance.

_Thou knoweth thine name. Thou hath not accepted it._

Eragon took a deep breath, trying to fight the urgings of his mind.

He placed his hand on the rock.

"So be it. I am Eragon Bromsson, Hand of Death, Dragon Rider, bonded soul-mate of Saphira Brightscales, last Free Dragon Rider, half-brother of Murtagh Morzanson, Lord of Vroengard, Lord Rider, Lord of the Blade, the One of a Thousand Prophesies."

_Doth thou accepteth all thee claimeth? Art thou Lord of Vroengard?_ the gravestone asked menacingly.

"Does fate like the hesitators? Does fate let it's champion's choose their paths? No. But I am Lord of Vroengard. I am all that I have claimed."

All menace deserted the being in the stone.

_Very well, my blood-son. Thou may passeth._

Eragon bowed his head.

_Farewell, Lord of Vroengard, my forbearer._

* * *

><p>Arya fell backwards off her chair, her hand pressed to her heart.<p>

"No… No, tell me that the mirror lies!"

The witch looked at the distraught elf, confusion in her eyes.

"It never lies."

A desperate, broken wail left her throat as Arya collapsed into tears, Angela grateful that the elf had been given a separate room from anyone else. She needed the privacy right now.

"Do you wish to speak of what you saw?"

Arya shook her head violently.

Angela stood, Solembum leaping onto her shoulder, balancing with grace only a cat could have.

"I shall leave you, my dear," she said softly, gently patting the elf's cheek before walking out of the room.

* * *

><p>Eragon stumbled through the darkness, using his hands and elven senses of hearing and acute reactivity to avoid smashing his head on any rocks.<p>

Or falling off a cliff for that matter. He had already dodged certain death a few times from falling down a huge ditch.

His spells wouldn't work. He would try to speak and then the words would slam back down his throat, making him cough violently and painfully. He would try to think the words, they would vanish, making him lose his train of thought, his spell becoming obsolete in his confusion. As far as he could know, he could be wandering in circles.

"_Brëwyn a min cûthala melwyn_," a soft voice sang. "_Tual anyen dímma arala_."

It was a song he knew. Sarissa had sung it to him those nights he couldn't find any sleep or comfort. She would hold him and quietly, beautifully, the words would flowed out of her lips, the singing of an angel lulling him into a quiet, wonderful sleep.

"_Diayal fwyn o fila wynthel ûnwain_," another, distinctly different voice continued."_Tulan karia elan lyn, tulan anlya._"

"_Alwyn dala tual gadël fila, elsa tual nel elsa mawer gadël fila_," he whispered quietly, surprised when he saw a small light spring into existence near him.

The voices came back in chorus, probably in dozens, "_Ya tawel laís elan lyn, ya iryûn kythûr tual syan._"

They paused.

He realized that they had heard his soft singing and were waiting for him to sing the next line.

"_Ya iryûn elsa tual elan lyn syan, eriod nawin wyn bela_," he sang, more confident, stronger, braver.

Cold hands took his, invisible beings leading him, balancing him when he stumbled, leading him over streams and ditches, singing the whole way as he echoed the next line when they finished theirs.

Soon, a pinprick of light appeared and stretched until the spirits vanished, the last words of the song drifting and fading into nothingness, leaving Eragon alone.

He stepped through the arching gateway.

A man was seated on a stone chair, watching him with sorrowful, blue eyes, ones he somehow recognized.

"Welcome, Lord Rider Eragon. I am sorry thoust cometh."

Eragon knelt.

"Lord Rider Kuthian, my life is yours."

The man smiled sadly, motioning for him to stand, "My place art at thine feet, my lord. Will thou looketh into the stone which holdeth thine future?"

Eragon turned to his right, seeing an island surrounded by a large stream, four stone bridges built across, about five paces long, all in the huge cavern.

"What shall I see?"

"The truth. Nothing but the painful truth."

He walked across the bridge, reaching out only to stop right before he touched the softly glowing, orange-gold crystalline stone.

"The dead. Why are they dead?"

Kuthian spread his arms, "This place is protected by a spell I did not cast. Only the true of heart, only the selfless of spirit, only those who cometh for my counsel on behalf of another that person says means more than they can cometh here. Those who die do not deserveth my counsel. Those who do deserveth everything. Will thou look into thine future? Will thou take it like a true warrior?"

Eragon looked at his forbearer, a wise, ancient sage of time.

One that should be long-dead.

"How are you alive?"

"I am not. 'Tis simply a figment of my spirit, blood-son. 'Tis not a true body. 'Tis only a manifestation of this place. 'Twas built by magic, 'tis sustained by magic. 'Tis the Vault of Souls. How could it not be magic?"

Taking a quick second to steel himself, Eragon touched the stone.

_Thou calleth upon me?_

_I do._

_And who calleth upon me? Speaketh thine name._

_Do you wish for my True Name?_

_I already knoweth that. A True Name matters not to me. There art a name far more powerful than those. A True Name art a plank of a battleship, a mere nail. I commandeth the whole fleet. Now, speaketh thine name._

_I am Eragon Bromsson._

_Very good. Telleth me, art thou a Hand of Death?_

_Yes._

_Thou have killed innocents._

Eragon hesitated.

_Yes._

_Thou shalt not defendeth thine position?_

_No. Excuses are for the weak. A true warrior accepts his flaws and mistakes and does not repeat them._

A tiny hint of approval came over from the strange being residing in the stone.

_Thou art wise. Thou art the Rider of Saphira Brightscales?_

_Yes._

_Thou loveth Arya _Dröttningu_?_

_Yes._

_And thou loveth Mistress Sarissa, a murderer, destroyer, the woman who hast the blood of a thousand scores upon scores of innocents upon those red gauntlets she wears?_

_Yes._

_Truly? You love the woman who has broken you into a million pieces?_

_She did what she did. I love her for who she has become._

_I hast no reason not to findeth thee wise, _Shur'tugal_. Telleth me thine name._

_I have._

_No, thou hast not._

_You are being absurd._

_Thou art being a weakling._

Anger flashed through him.

"_Weakling," Sarissa snarled. "You are weak, you are pathetic, can you do anything besides cry and wail? Take the pain like a true man!"_

Eragon took five deep breaths.

_I am who I name. I need no name. I have no name. Life is but a whisper, but a breath. Why honor our pointless existence? Sometimes I believe in a greater being, but why has he let such a tyrant like Galbatorix take control? Where was he when the Riders grew corrupt? No, this life is nothing compared to the starlit path I eagerly awake._

_My name is Nothing. My name is Void. My name is Nameless._

Immense pride.

_So thou hast learned something. Telleth me, One Who is Nameless. Who doth thou wisheth to speaketh to?_

_Allow me to speak to Brom and Selena. Let those who wish to speak to me come from the City of Light and speak with me._

_As thou wisheth._

Eragon flew back, striking his head against the grassy ground, masterfully biting back his yelp of pain.

"Well, always the fool, eh?"

He looked up to see Brom smirking at him.

"You always said 'one part brave, three parts fool,'" Eragon said softly, smiling.

"I guess I did."

The "manifestation" of his father hauled him up, embracing him.

"You have grown wiser and stronger, far stronger than Vrael ever could imagine becoming, my son," he said softly. "I am so proud of you."

"Even for breaking?"

"Your breaking has made you strong. Everything Sarissa did, she did to make you who you are, a strong, brave, wise, quick-to-think man. We both are proud of you."

He looked over his father's broad shoulder to see his beautiful mom stride across the bridge, Kuthian watching them with a small smile upon his lips.

"Mother!"

He swiftly held her in his arms, feeling the gentle pressure of her arms around him as he tried to memorize how it felt to hug his dead mother.

He loved it. He relished it. He would have given the world to have her back in his life forever.

"How are you, my dear?" she asked softly.

"Fine," he whispered tearfully. "Wonderful, mother, truly. You spoke to Murtagh?"

"Of course. He loves you, Eragon, he told me that if he could, he would fight by your side and he would love to call you his true brother, not by my blood that runs through both of you, but brothers who have lost so much together."

"I know… so do I, mother, so do I…"

She kissed his cheek.

"Be strong, my son. We love you and by the stars, we're so proud of you, so, so, so proud of our strong Dragon Rider we sired."

"I love you too, mother," he managed before his voice failed him, the two spirits fading away.

"Eragon."

He spun.

A handsome, tall, regal man walked in, harsh brown eyes gracing his fair face, his elf-like grace and beauty befitting his stature.

"Who are you? Why do you wish to speak with me?"

The man bowed elegantly.

"I am your grandfather, son. I am Master Aias, High Master of the Gauntlet, Sarissa's trainer."

Eragon was furious and shocked.

Furious to see the man who had hurt his beloved so much standing in front of him, shocked to know that the man who had hurt her had been his grandsire.

"I am nothing like you," he hissed.

"Perhaps. But I did it for your good, Eragon. Do not deny it."

"You raped her, you destroyed her life, you took everything away from Sarissa! How could I not deny it?" he screamed, rage coursing through his veins as he forcefully made himself resist striking the man he hated so much.

"I saw you. I had a vision of you. You were too weak. You fell to Galbatorix's blade. I knew that man would come to power. I needed to forge the sword, but I needed an anvil. Sarissa was my powerful anvil, and she also became my hammer. I searched Cadia for a beautiful young woman who… who struck me as a woman you would love, and when I saw Sarissa… by the stars, she glowed with beauty and when I spoke with her, my vision showed her with you, holding you, protecting you… I took her. Yes… I did not relish everything I did to break her, but she has become the woman I wanted her to be. A woman who I carefully trained so the right words would break her again and make her the sweet, loving, playful girl she once was. You are that sword she and I forged, Eragon. You are the sword, your heart is your wielder, and it has been masterful so far."

Eragon opened his mouth to protest the facts.

But he could not.

The truth was the truth, no matter how much it hurt him.

"No, I'll never believe that," he whispered hoarsely.

"The truth is never believed, Eragon. The ones who believe it are scoffed at. The ones who do not are esteemed. Do not become a fool."

Those words struck home.

"Tell Sarissa I am sorry. I truly… I truly am sorry for her and so many times during the nights she screamed, I wanted to stop, I wanted to untie her, hold her, sob how sorry I was to her, explain everything, beg her to forgive me, but I could not. I needed the anvil. Alagaësia needed the anvil. And when they learn the truth, they shall love her."

Eragon gently clasped his grandfather's arm, gauntlet to gauntlet.

"Go in peace, grandfather," he murmured. "I shall tell her. And… and I forgive you for what you did to Sarissa."

"You love her."

He bowed his head.

"Yes."

"Then I am sorry."

Aias vanished.

Kuthian walked over, grasping Eragon's shoulder.

"The sword is forged. The anvil has been made. The enemy lives. You know what to do. Bonds hold the sword in place. Shatter those bonds, Eragon. You know what I speak of, my blood-son."

Eragon shook his head, desperate.

"No."

"It will be done, whether by your hand or another."

"I do not believe it!"

"'The truth is never believed,'" Kuthian quoted softly. "You saw it in the stone. I know you did. Now go. Do what you must."

The truth tore into his chest, and it ripped, tore, shredded his heart to bits.

He knew it was the truth.

Nothing could hurt as much as the truth.

Nothing but love could kill a heart as coldly as truth.

* * *

><p>Translation: <em>Du Thorta<em> (title) – The Truth

_Tula ir'iolen _(Cadian) _– _Turn north

_Tàth fylwyn! Tàth wynla fela! _(Cadian) – Ride swiftly! Ride like the wind! (literally: _Ride swiftly! Ride wind-like!_)

_Arös! Arös, diwyn fila diayal fwyn! _(Cadian) – Stay! Stay, do not follow me! (literally: _Stay! Stay, follow me do not!_)

_Garjzla _- Light

_Brëwyn a min cûthala melwyn_ /_ Tual anyen dímma arala / Diayal fwyn o fila wynthel ûnwain / Tulan karia elan lyn, tulan anlya / Alwyn dala tual gadël fila / Elsa tual nel elsa mawer gadël fila / Ya tawel laís elan lyn / Ya iryûn kythûr tual syan._ / _Ya iryûn elsa tual elan lyn syan / eriod nawin wyn bela_ (Cadian) _– _Dream of my sweet kiss / You need nothing else / Do not turn away from me / I am your lover, your angel / Let me hold you forever / Let me love you until love dies / I am the quiet voice / The one who comforts you / I am the one who loves you / That will never change (literally: _Dream of my kiss sweet / You need nothing else / Do not from me turn away / Your lover I am, your angel / Forever hold you let me / Love you until love dies let me / The soft voice I am, the one comforts you who / The one loves you I am who / Never change that will_)

* * *

><p>TN: everything but <em>Du Thorta<em> is mine! Oh yeah, and _garjzla_ XD

* * *

><p>AN: I LOVED THIS CHAPTER SO MUCH<p>

Mostly cause the song. ^^ but really, I put a lot of… my own thoughts into this chapter. If you look close enough, there are ties to the real world in this chapter I personally put it and made. I love this chapter. Maybe you did? Maybe not? ^^;; please say yes?

Review please! I love feedback, it makes me a better writer~ :D

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><p>Restrained Freedom – thankss~ ^^ yeah, I agree with Murtagh's complications XD but owelllll<p>

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><p>Cara – LOL, thank you so muchosssss ^^#<p>

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><p>Thegayperson – thanksss XD<p>

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><p>ESMT – well, I guess Murtagh missed his baby half brother, loll XD and I thought of Thorn reading and I laughed, so I made Thorn a literature dragon. XDXD<p>

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><p>EminemBitches – I have other people to butcher ^^ LOL XD thanks, I'll make more harsh chapters then ;)<p>

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><p>Darth Feanor – thank youuuuu~ such a loyal fan XD<p>

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><p>Riptide – HAHAHAHA XD don't worry, I like the school XD thanksss<p>

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><p>Viro – who's the blockhead? Eragon or Sarissa? XD cause they're both pretty stubborn ;) lawll, thankssss :)<p>

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><p>Eradon son of awesomeness – really? o.o;; we got a blackout too… do you live on the east coast? XDXD raining like the dickens over here in VA…<p>

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><p>Eragonfan123454321 – thank youuuu!<p> 


	23. Eom Mälin

**Chapter 22 – **_**Eom Mälin**_

_"Forgiveness is easy when you see that the one you are forgiving is not much different than you."_

_~Captain Ralmir, leader of the Lathari Elites, friend of Brom and Eragon_

Eragon strode past the saluting guards, striding through the halls of the keep.

He clenched his fist, stopping outside the room he and Sarissa shared, steeling himself for what he had to.

He did not want to do this.

He sighed, his head leaning against the wall, his hands holding him up from hitting the wall.

_By the stars…_

He opened the door, shutting and locking it behind him.

Sarissa lay on the bed they had shared for so long, or so it seemed. This was the same bed where they had yielded to each other so many nights, the same bed where she held him as he wept over his old life. This was the bed where he had realized he had truly fallen in love with her. This was the bed where it had all started.

And this was the bed where it would all end.

"You have come to kill me, have you not?" she asked softly, unmoving from her position, one leg bent, the other laid straight out, her arms under her head. She wore an opaque nightgown, the buttons half done as to expose where her heart was.

The bright moon glinted on the tears on her cheeks.

"Sarissa, by the stars, I do not want to do this," he whispered, walking over to their bed so he could stroke her beautiful, tearstained face. "I promised to never kill you, I said I would never hurt you, but by the stars, fate cares not for what I say…"

"It must be done, my love," she said, gently kissing his gauntleted palm. "_Talar esen enli anar leion._"

"Forgive me, my beautiful Sarissa," he said, taking her face in his to press a true, loving kiss upon her soft lips.

"They are yours," she said when she drew back, reaching for the black-gold gauntlets. "I name you as my successor, Eragon."

He stayed her hands.

"Do not. You will die in peace, with no pain."

Her eyes glimmered with tears, "You will take my last breath? I wish for you to do that, my lover. I wish to feel your lips upon mine when I take the starlit road or the path to eternal condemnation."

"I will do so," he promised quietly. "And I know you will find the starlit path. It is open for beautiful souls like you, my love."

She closed her eyes, tears trickling down her face.

"Do you truly mean that, Eragon? 'My love'? Do you love me? You never called me that before…"

He pulled off one of his gauntlets, stroking her soft cheeks, feeling her skin against his unarmored skin, "Yes. I love you, Sarissa, truthfully, I have come to love you._ Elan tual elsa, _Sarissa."

"Please, let me die as one with your mind," she pleaded.

He let his barriers down, reaching out to meet hers, their two essences blending and swirling, entwining together like their thoughts did in only their most intimate moments.

"Promise to never forget me…"

He kissed her nose, "I would never forget you, Sarissa. I promise upon my grave, I will not forget the one I love."

"Such a sweet promise," she sighed with contentment. "I… I am happy, Eragon. Funny, that I feel joy in my last moments. But then again, I felt this same joy when I held you in my arms and kissed you. Accept the pain of my death, my love."

He pressed his left, still-gauntleted hand to her chest, her right hand resting over it as she held it there, sealing her death.

He curled his other arm around her neck, and drew her up so he could bring his lips to hers, meeting in their last kiss.

A burst of magic travelled up his arm and through his gauntlets, her body stiffening.

With one inhalation from his lips, he drew the very breath from her lungs, her body slowly growing limp in his arms.

_I love you, Eragon, by the stars I love you so much_, her fading presence whispered to him, the bright star that had resided within his mind slowly dimming.

_I love you, Sarissa. You are forgiven._

Her body grew weak, her head falling against his chest.

He took a deep breath.

It was over.

He gently laid her down, and walked out into the balcony overlooking most of Teirm.

Rain poured over him, but it disguised his tears.

Sitting down, he leaned against the stone rail.

And he cried.

He cried not for his mistress, not for the woman who had broken him.

No, his tears were for the woman whose name was Sarissa, a Hand of Death, his mate, his lover, and the woman he had come to love and forgive.

Alone, without Sarissa, without his beloved, he sat in the rain and cried all the tears he had left in his beaten soul and his broken heart.

His life was falling apart, shard by shard.

One broken piece of his heart by one broken piece.

Freedom would never again feel so bitter.

* * *

><p>"A rider from the south! Rider from the west!" the lookout cried.<p>

Arya frowned, "A lone rider?"

"Yes, milady! Black cloak, black clothes, black horse, very ominous-looking!" another lookout joked.

She took the stairs in twos, leaping to the top of the rampart as she curiously watched the black rider gallop through the rain.

Saphira roared.

_Eragon! It is Eragon!_ she cried jubilantly, throwing herself upon her wings and rocketing away. _By the good stars, Eragon!_

Joy welled up inside of her.

"Open the gates!" she ordered.

The soldiers at the bottom hauled the metal gates open, a rider thundering in a few moments later, Saphira landing and wrapping a wing around him in love and care or to shield him from the rain.

Arya stopped cold.

He had no smile upon his handsome features, his eyes shadowed by the cowl.

"Hello Arya, Saphira," he said softly.

Then she saw that he was holding a person in his arms.

A beautiful woman, dead by the way she did not react to anything and by his grim attitude, lay in his arms, his hair soaked as he pushed back his hood, kissing Saphira's snout.

"Eragon! Your eyes…" Arya whispered.

His eyes were no longer the beautiful, milky brown.

One eye gleamed silver, the other like the purest bronze.

"I shall explain later," he said softly. "Take the horse to the stables… I will cremate… her," he said softly, walking out the gates again, vanishing into the forest at the feet of the mountains.

Saphira looked worried.

_Come, do as he says. I shall go find Nasuada._

* * *

><p>Nasuada watched as their hope walked through the gates, a huge crowd of soldiers cheering when he walked in, a weak smile upon his lips.<p>

She ran to him, crushing him in a hug that was long overdue.

"By the stars, we missed you, Eragon," she smiled, kissing his cheek. As if feeling the joy of the Varden, the rain had stopped though the clouds remained gray. Gil'ead was livid with jubilance, the shouts and triumphant cries of the soldiers probably heard from the east gate.

He nodded, his smile weakening a little.

"I can see that," he said quietly. "I think my ears are half-deaf now."

The Varden army laughed, the soldiers all welcoming the Dragon Rider back with hearty cheers and a lot of back-slaps, salutes, and such of the like.

Arya stayed back, waiting until the soldiers politely moved out of her way.

She could see the pain in his eyes.

She strode forward, gripped his wet tunic's collar, and pulled him down to her so she could kiss the bridge of his nose, lingering much longer than she should, but she didn't care.

He was back. He was finally, truly back, and that was all that mattered. Her embrace was long, _long_ overdue, and by the stars, she loved that she could have his arms around her, though she would loathe telling anyone that.

"By the black heart of Galbatorix, I missed you so much, Eragon," she whispered.

"You are truly a sight for broken eyes," he said, giving a smile which she noticed with joy was a little more at ease than the other ones he had given.

She touched his cheek, gazing up at his shockingly different eyes. It still made her heart do skips, wondering how his beautiful eyes could turn so cold.

"What happened?"

"I will tell you. Shall we meet here after I change and speak with the council of the Varden?"

She smiled, and it was true and heartfelt.

"Of course, Eragon."

* * *

><p>"I was captured by a Hand of Death by the name of Mistress Sarissa. She never told me her last name, and for some reason I doubt she had one," Eragon started, shaking his head when Orrin asked if he wished to stand up.<p>

It didn't matter, he had everyone's attention.

"Ten days she tortured me, and the dawn of the eleventh, I broke."

No one spoke.

"It has been a two months since I broke and she took me as her mate. I will not go into detail about that, but what you must know is that she is dead and that I have sent many of Teirm's soldiers to supposedly reinforce Bullridge three days ago. About two-thousand soldiers now remain at Teirm, and while I was there, I tampered with the wards. We can take the city as easily as taking a village. The soldiers at the gates are loyal to me, so they are not to be harmed."

"Did you kill her?" Nasuada asked.

Arya saw his gauntleted hand tense.

"Yes."

His eyes were steely, his voice hard, but she could almost feel his immense sorrow.

"Then that is all the better," the Varden's leader said, clearly unable to see that Eragon was not happy about her death. "We know that the Hands of Death can die, and that shall give the soldiers encouragement. Thank you, Eragon, we are all glad you have returned. Do you wish to excuse yourself? You look… well, tired to say the least."

"The truth is, Nasuada, I saw a mirror, and I look like hell-sent demon," he smiled wearily, getting a round of good-natured laughs and a hearty slap from Orik. "Thank you, I shall be at my room."

"If you may excuse me, members of the council," Arya said, helping Eragon to his feet. "I… will return as soon as I can."

* * *

><p>Arya caught Eragon as he stumbled, his small smile all the thanks she needed.<p>

By the stars, she never knew how much she missed him.

"Stars, I missed you, Eragon," she said, trying to keep her immense relief from showing on her face.

Her heart fluttered when he leaned forward to place a tender kiss upon her brow.

"I wish I could say the same, Arya."

She stared.

"What?" she whispered. "You…"

"Sarissa did not let me think of you, Arya," he said hesitantly. "The times I did, she tortured me. Then after she left my mind, I still could not in fear she would know… The times I did think of you, I felt… I felt so strange, so disloyal to her… Forgive me, Arya…"

She took his hand, about to say something to ease his guilt, but noticing with horror the white scars that covered the back of his hand, his fingers, his knuckles…

"Lift up your sleeve," she ordered.

"Arya…"

"Lift it up," she snapped.

He did so, albeit hesitantly.

She touched the crisscrossing scars that ran up his arm, no doubt covering the rest of his body.

"Oh, Eragon," she managed to murmur hoarsely.

She thought Gil'ead was hell.

Gil'ead had been heaven compared to what she saw on his arms.

She quickly pulled him to the room that he had been given, shutting and locking the door. "Take off your tunic," she said, readying herself for what she was about to see.

He pursed his lips, but pulled off his tunic.

Hundreds of scars marred his wonderfully handsome body, white lines running and ending, his tanned skin standing out from the pale scars. His face sported only a few scars, but his neck had almost as many scars as his arms.

"By the stars," she whispered, tentatively touching the strong muscles of his chest, tracing one of his many scars. "Stars, what did she do to you?"

She looked up confusedly when his hands captured her wrists.

"Nothing," he hissed furiously, his anger suddenly springing up. "Absolutely nothing, Arya Dröttningu. She may have tortured me, she may have killed me, she may be my breaker, a murderer, and a heartless woman, but in the end, she loved me, Arya. That is all that matters, and that is all I wish to remember for I loved her too!"

She ripped her hands from his grasp.

"Eragon?..." she asked softly, her voice barely staying together.

"Leave me," he said brokenly, sitting down on his bed, turning away from her, and she could tell he was crying. "Please…"

She hesitantly glided over to him, and placed a soft, hesitant kiss on his jaw.

"Alright," she said quietly into his ear.

She ran out of his room, barely getting into her room before she broke into tears.

He had turned her away.

He had pushed her away, he had rejected her comfort…

By the stars, by the stars, this wasn't what she wanted…

* * *

><p>Saphira blinked when she saw Arya sitting against a tree, quiet as ever, yet her calm, stoic face was unusually void of… everything. No passionate flame in her eyes, no independent flare, nothing. To add to that, she was outside at this time of night. Arya may be an elf, but not many elves enjoyed staying out in a cold night like this in the middle of a forest alone.<p>

_Princess?_

"He threw me away, Saphira," she whispered. "I would give up everything to help him, I truly missed him, and he pushes me away and ignores me…"

_Eragon has?_

"Yes."

_Arya, understand his hurt, hatchling_, Saphira said, nuzzling the elf warmly. _Deep inside, he still cares for you and wants nothing but to see you laughing and smiling. I shall go speak with him._

* * *

><p>Eragon smiled as Saphira stuck her head through his doorway, blowing some smoke at him, <em>Little one, how dare you not say hello to your beloved dragoness?<em> she teased, licking him lovingly.

_I missed you so much, Saphira_, he smiled, kissing her snout. _How have you been?_

_Comforting a certain elven princess._

Eragon winced.

_Was I harsh to her?_ he asked softly.

_Yes, I am sorry, but you were, Eragon. You should go speak with her._

He raked his fingers through his length golden hair.

_Stars, I did not want to sound so curt… It… stars…_

He got up, Saphira butting him softly.

_Find me later, my love._

_Of course, my queen of the skies_, he smiled, stroking her scaly head.

* * *

><p>Arya turned over on her bed, ignoring the quiet knocks.<p>

The door opened, a hushed breeze touching her skin.

"Arya?"

"Go," she said, curling up in a small, slender ball.

"Forgive me," he said softly, his fingers gently touching her shoulder. "I was wrong to shout at you. I have no anger against you, my princess, I do not wish to make you feel like I do not want to be near you, Arya."

"Why have you come here?" she asked, still refusing to turn to him.

"To explain and apologize."

"Explain? Why you loved a beautiful woman? No, Eragon, there is no need to," she said. "I saw her, she is more beautiful than I, more beautiful than anyone I have seen. I do not blame you for bedding her. I have no hard feelings against you."

"Arya, please, it is not what you think," he pleaded. "I want to show you… you need to know her story…"

She shot up, gripping his collar until their faces were nearly touching.

"What do you mean it is not what I think, Eragon Shadeslayer?" she hissed. "I know she is beautiful, I know she bed you, and now I know she loved you and you loved her back. There is nothing, _nothing_ left to explain. Now go, do not seek me out, _Shur'tugal_."

He stood.

"Farewell, Arya," he whispered.

* * *

><p>"Eragon! Eragon, wait… please, do not leave me," a hesitant voice called.<p>

He stopped.

A tentative hand rested on his arm.

"I am wrong," she said softly. "I… I had no right to say what I did, please, do not hate me, Eragon… I do not want to be a diplomat to you, _iet fricai_, you have been my only friend who has treated me as a friend and not a princess… I do not want to lose you…"

He gazed down at her.

"Walk with me?" he asked, looking into her electric-green eyes.

She nodded, relief flashing on her beautiful face.

"Of course."

And for the record, he thought Arya looked more beautiful than Sarissa.

But that empty spot Sarissa had once held in his shattered heart could never be filled up again.

Not even by the woman who stood beside him.

* * *

><p>Arya held Eragon as he slept, resting against the headboard of his bed, his head nestled in the curve of her neck and jaw, his warm breath tickling the sensitive skin there. She would never have allowed this with any man, she hated physical contact. It showed warmth, weakness, the want to be comforted. She needed none of that.<p>

Or that's what she tried to tell herself.

When it came to the man asleep in her arms, everything seemed to change. She tried not to smile, tried not to laugh, but his lopsided grins, his failure at jokes, his usual childish silliness, those things somehow made her turn into a young, easily-amused human girl.

She had tried to push him away, but somehow it brought them even closer. Nothing kept him away from her, not even her refusal to speak with him. Not even her rejections of his suit. Not even her apparent disdain for his foolishness.

She appreciated it.

No, she loved that trait. The ever-faithful friend.

A broken-hearted, ever-faithful friend.

She drew him closer to her, laying her head atop his.

_Eragon Bromsson, you are a rare, rare man_, she thought quietly as she kissed the crown of his head, hoping he was sleeping deeply enough to not feel it.

A scarred hand rested atop one of hers, one she wound her fingers around, squeezing reassuringly.

His nightmare was over.

Hers was just beginning.

* * *

><p>Translation: <em>Eom Mälin <em>(title) – To Forgive

_Talar esen enli anar leion _(Cadian) – There is no other way

_Elan tual elsa _(Cadian) – I love you

_Iet fricai - _My friend

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><p>TN: Everything except <em>eom<em>, _iet_, and _fricai_ are mine in this chapter~

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><p>AN: yes… I finally got the two lovebirds together, though I will soon be ripping them apart once more. Sorry.<p>

But it will end up ExA, I still promise that~ :)

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><p>Cara – LOL, I can tell you like the sword of truth XDXD thanksss~ :)<p>

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><p>Restrained Freedom – PAHA, thankssss ^^ and yes you will, everything will be told~<p>

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><p>Darth Feanor – thanks so muchosss~ and I'll explain in the next chapter where the Hands went :D<p>

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><p>ESMT – always, its my style, I never answer all questions until the end XD thanks thoughh~<p>

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><p>Eragon5443 – LOL, I still try to update pretty quickly *indignant look* lawl, thanks for the reviewwww<p>

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><p>Eagan2012 – thanks! ^^<p>

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><p>Aliak05 – thank youuu! ^^#<p>

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><p>EminemBitches – LOL, that would be pretty funny XD i'll tell ya'll sometime what they both saw ;) just wait<p>

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><p>Maddogg789 – thankssss!~ I feel very much so flattered XD keep readinggg<p> 


	24. Néiat Sanlia Hygir

**Chapter 23 – **_**Néiat Sanlia Hygir**_

"_Love is a strange thing… It starts wars, it ends wars, it breaks hearts, it mends hearts, it makes the warmest being a cold monster, it makes a cold monster the warmest being. Yet I will not say it is trivial, for love is everything that matters."_

_~Eragon Shadeslayer, Bromsson, last Free Dragon Rider, Heir Lord of Vroengard, High Master of the Pact, former mate of High Mistress Sarissa_

Arya woke to find herself wrapped up warmly inside the fur blanket Nasuada had nearly forced her to accept. Eragon was not by her, and when she looked around, she found him sitting by the window, his eyes aimlessly watching outside.

"The first snow," he said softly. "You may wish to see it."

She got up, shivering as the cold air sank into her skin, the thin nightgown doing little to keep her warm.

Eragon stood, pulling a black cloak off from around his chair's backrest, putting it around her as he gave a small, forced smile, letting her claim the area beside him.

True to his word, tiny white flakes of fall's frozen tears drifted down to the earth, swirling, a simple flurry, not a full snow fall. The snow coated everything, tracks of the moving soldiers and citizens of Gil'ead left in the freshly fallen layer.

She shivered, but not from the cold.

She was in the exact same place where she had been tortured, held above the abyss of death by a mere string, her body holding on when she wanted to let go.

Eragon looked down at her.

"Arya, that nightmare is over," he whispered softly, and to her pleasant surprise, he enveloped her in his powerful, scarred arms. Somehow the cold didn't seem to touch him, his skin warm to the touch even though he wore nothing to cover them.

"A new one is just beginning," she murmured, tracing a scar on his arm meaningfully.

He glanced at the scars, his strange, mix-matched eyes glazing over.

"That nightmare is for me to face on my own, my princess. Do not lose any sleep over what does not hurt me."

She stared.

"How does it not hurt you?"

He looked away.

"Pain has no meaning to me. Pain has no meaning to any Hand."

She took his face in her hands.

"Eragon… You are not a Hand of Death…"

He gently took her hands away.

"My eyes prove that I am."

She put a hand over his heart.

"Does your heart follow your eyes?"

"My heart lies where my love does."

"And where does your love lie?"

"With the woman whose ashes lie in the pendant I wear."

They stood in silence, Arya still nestled in the warmth of his embrace, suddenly aware of how she actually let him hold her. Fäolin never did. Her mother and father used to. And for nearly seven decades, she had not felt the warmth of another's arms. Until she had cried over Oromis' loss, held by the same man who held her now.

It frightened and gladdened her.

He gently drifted away, pulling his white leathers over his form-hugging tunic, clasping the multiple belts that ran from sternum down to his waist.

She reached out to give him his gauntlets, but his hands stopped her.

"Do not touch them," he said hesitantly.

"Why not?"

He slid them one over his hand, "They bring pain to any who touch them unless someone is wearing them."

Her brows furrowed, "So they hurt you right now."

"Yes."

She scowled, "Any pain you accept I shall as well."

She took the left gauntlet in her hands.

In the blink of an eye, it clattered to the floor, Arya's face white with pain.

"By the stars, Eragon, why do you wear them when they bring the pain of a thousand arrows piercing your whole body?" she whispered in horror.

He slipped the other one, her eyes widening with shock when she saw the lack of emotion on his fair face.

"I know no pain."

He belted his sword, looking up when Arya walked to where her regular clothing lay, pulling out the Belt of Beloth the Wise and Brisingr.

"You should have these back," she smiled weakly, holding them out to him. "Hand of Death you may be, but to us, you are Dragon Rider Eragon, Shadeslayer, Bromsson, our warrior, strong right arm, and hero."

He slowly took hold of his old sword.

Then put it back in her hands.

"A hero knows compassion… I doubt I know that word anymore. Wield it for me, Arya. I am not worthy of my titles."

She gently pushed it into his palms.

"You may not be a hero in your eyes. But you are in the sights of the warriors of the Varden. And in mine. Wield it forme."

He looked at her eyes, averting his eyes from the scabbard and hilt.

"For you," he whispered quietly.

* * *

><p>Aelwyn thundered through the gates of Teirm, the company of two-hundred Hands of Death behind her, an army that could rival an army a hundred times their size. It was a frightening sight, two-score Warriors of the Gauntlet, all dressed in crimson-red leathers, swords strapped to their sides, a spattering of white-leathers, black-leathers, green-leathers, and misty-gray leathers spotted among the blood-hued leathers of the vast majority.<p>

"Where is High Mistress Sarissa?" she roared, reeling her horse's reins back, gently patting her mare's neck, calming the surprised steed.

Captain Liyan ran over, "Mistress Aelwyn!"

She leapt off, gripping his collar.

"Where is Sarissa?" she hissed dangerously. "Where is Eragon? Where are they? Answer me, soldier!"

His eyes betrayed nothing.

"Lord Eragon left, mistress. Mistress Sarissa is no more."

Aelwyn let go, her nerveless fingers desperately reaching out to find Alais' neck.

Master Van slid off his horse, "You say High Mistress Sarissa is dead. What color leather did Lord Eragon wear when he left?"

"Black, master. Black, and every edge, every seam was trimmed by gold.

"Do you know where he rode to?"

"No, master, but it is safe to believe he left to find the Varden. Gil'ead has fallen to their swords not too long ago, I would guess he rode to that cursed city. A city of Shades."

Aelwyn climbed onto Alais, "We ride west! To Gil'ead!" she shouted, her cavalcade of horse riders turning in a unified, synchronized fashion, galloping out of the city.

* * *

><p>Master Van strode through the camp of Hands, searching for Aelwyn.<p>

She—in the end—found him.

"Send a group of riders to bring back the things Sarissa told to give to Eragon should she die," he said softly. "We must. She entrusted us with her gifts."

Aelwyn nodded slowly.

"Aneira! Gather your apprentices, ride back to the keep! Bring back Sarissa's gifts to Eragon."

Aneira, a beautiful young woman dressed in white, her mate standing beside her, also in white, walked over. Her pale-blond hair swayed in the cold wind, none of the Hands taking note of the cold.

"Everything?"

"Everything," Aelwyn confirmed.

"As you wish, sister."

"When you return, we may have moved on. Go to Gil'ead or find Eragon. Give him his gifts, swear loyalty to him, and return to the keep."

"Of course. We shall ride swift and light, take only what a Hand needs!" she shouted, her five trainees quickly packing meager rations and bows for hunting.

Kuthian had decreed Sarissa's death.

No matter how much she hated that bastard for doing so, she knew it had to be done.

Aelwyn touched the necklace Sarissa had given to her so many years ago.

"Rest in peace, my sister."

* * *

><p>Eragon had to stop Jarsha from collapsing, the young messenger boy breathing heavily.<p>

"Sir, Nasuada says a large group of riders are coming through the mountain pass! One of their scouts say they seek you!"

Eragon nodded, patting the boy's back, "Go rest. You should not have run so hard."

He walked to the stables, Arya already waiting there.

"You need not come," he said as he untied Iawen, the stallion pawing the ground with his powerful hooves.

"I know you would wish for me to stay, hence I shall come."

"And if I wished for you to come?"

"I would come."

"Your logic makes no sense, Arya Dröttningu," he smiled slightly, saddling Iawen quickly and hastily.

"They are Hands, are they not? You shall need me."

"No, I shall not. I would never plan on fighting a large group of Hands, not even a small group."

He leapt onto Sarissa's old horse, the powerful stallion springing out of the stables, Arya riding upon Snowfire.

"Then why do you go? It is folly!"

He chuckled drily.

"We all are fools."

* * *

><p>Aelwyn halted her small army when she saw the two riders galloping down the snow-covered path, one figure in all black and gold, the other in a simple traveling tunic and riding pants.<p>

Black and gold.

"Eragon!" she called.

He raised a hand in response, Aelwyn handing her reins to Van as she jumped off, walking swiftly over to her friend.

Eragon handed his reins to his companion, a gorgeous, green-eyed elf, her dark hair swirling in the wind, eyes watching her warily.

The two Hands crushed each other in a powerful embrace.

"Forgive me, Aelwyn," he whispered. "By the stars, I did not wish for her life to end at the metal of my gauntlets, I did not wish for her to die at all…"

She gently hushed him, kissing his cheeks.

"I know. It had to be done."

They simply stayed, locked in a hug, unwilling to leave the shelter of a familiar set of arms.

"She left you some things at the keep. I sent a group of riders to bring them to you. They will be at Gil'ead in a few days, perhaps five."

"I shall eagerly await them," he murmured into her ear.

"There is another reason we came."

She got down on one knee.

"Lord Master, my gauntlet, my strength, my right arm, and my loyalty now lie with you. No other holds my will."

He knelt in front of her.

"Do not swear loyalty to me. Too many lives are bond to me already."

"You wear the gauntlets and leathers of the Lord Master. The Hands will obey you to the death. But we will not fight Galbatorix. Our vow was given to him by Sarissa, we shall honor her wish."

"As would I had my whole heart been devoted to his demise."

"You may do as you will, none from the Pact shall question you, Lord Master."

"I wish you did. Will you stay? I have missed you greatly, Aelwyn."

"I would rather stay in your bed in a rather intimate position," she purred, kissing his neck teasingly. "But I doubt you would let me."

"No, I would not. But please, do stay. I long for your company. Not in my bed."

She pouted, "Oh, fine."

"Please do not try."

An even cuter, bigger pout, "Why not?" she whined.

He glared pointedly.

"Ahh, because it would give you a bad image if you bed every single woman who begged you to make love to them!"

Arya's eyes widened and then narrowed.

Aelwyn's eyes flitted to Arya, her smirk widening.

"But Lord Master, I _adore_ you! I would do _anything _for you and I would prove it right here in front of everyone!"

Eragon just glared some more, Arya's bewildered, shocked, and half-disgusted face worth the embarrassment.

"Or do you want to go bathe in the lake again?"

He bit his lip to keep himself from groaning.

* * *

><p>The Nighthawks parted as Nasuada strode over to the large company of Riders, the strikingly beautiful woman in red leather riding beside Eragon talking with him, a small smile on her lips.<p>

When she saw Nasuada, she gave a simple nod, no greeting, nothing.

So this was a Hand of Death.

"Lady Nasuada, this is Mistress Aelwyn, a close friend of mine," Eragon said, taking the woman's hand in a show of trust.

"I would be more if he was easier to seduce," the woman purred, batting her long eyelashes up at Eragon. "Is he not hard to seduce?"

Nasuada blinked.

"She is also very brazen," Eragon said wryly.

"Welcome to the Varden, Mistress Aelwyn," Nasuada said, trying to keep the shock at the other woman's open feelings off her face.

"Oh, no need to welcome me, I am only staying because Eragon asked me to. I will not fight for you, but neither shall I fight against you. Simple as that."

Nasuada looked at Eragon with confusion in her dark eyes.

"May we speak?" he asked.

Aelwyn sat herself in Eragon's lap, leaning back against him as she whispered something into his ear. He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"Please, do explain, I apologize, Mistress Aelwyn, but you lost me at the word 'seduce' when we first spoke," Nasuada said sheepishly.

The Hand waved her hand dismissively, "No matter. Simple as this, our former Lady Mistress, Sarissa, gave Galbatorix her word that we would not fight against him as long as he lived. We helped him for a while out of respect for his strength, but since Lord Master Eragon is on the opposite side, we will not fight the Varden. We will return to our keep and stay there. Should any attack us, we will destroy them."

Dead silence.

"Aelwyn, you need not be so simple," Eragon teased.

She sighed, "But what's the fun in being all… sneaky and adding in little subtle meanings no one understands? I always hated politics, they never made any sense."

The Dragon Rider chuckled softly.

"I have always dreamt of being a war hero. Now I hate war."

* * *

><p>Eragon ran through the fields, <em>Saphira! Where are you, you gorgeous lump of ego and scales?<em>

With a jubilant roar, she rocketed out of the skies, tackling him to the ground, using her wings to create a spherical ball as they rolled, Saphira thrumming with laughter, Eragon hugging her as he laughed with her.

He smiled, kissing her jaw, _Only now do I realize how much I have missed my beautiful Sky Queen._

She carefully licked him, curling her neck up, her wings wrapped around him as she lay on her back, holding him in a protective embrace.

_I have missed you so much, hatchling_, she whispered, nuzzling him lovingly. _I cannot begin to explain how much I longed to see you during those two months, I would have gladly assaulted the very gates of Urû'baen to hold you in my wings for just a moment more._

He hugged her neck, hearing the deep vibrations of her throat as she gave a dragon-purr of contentment.

No non-Rider would ever understand the sense of pure elation and ecstasy of a separated Dragon-Rider pair when they were reunited. It was like finding the meaning of life, or seeing the beauty of a wild, exotic forest after living in a cave all your life, there was no word, no book, no poem, no description that could ever come close to trying to show how he felt when he rested in his beloved dragoness' wings. Nothing could ever compare to it, not even Sarissa, not Arya, nothing, no one.

His heart might truly lie with Sarissa, but the bits and pieces Saphira had always held were still with her.

If anyone could bring him back, it was the dragoness that held him in her loving, caring, protective embrace.

She was his, and he was hers.

Nothing would ever change that.

* * *

><p>Translation: <em>Néiat Sanlia Hygir <em>(title) – Not Truly Back

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><p>TN: <em>Sanlia<em> and _hygir_ are my words~

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><p>AN: awwww, I love Saphira and Eragon. They are the best Rider-Dragon pair, foolish-wise, hasty-even more hasty, protective-absolutely-limb-ripping-protective, its awesome. ^^ and yes, I brought our beloved, seductress Aelwyn back. if you didn't notice, I love names that have the "-wyn" ending… they're just so pretty… I have a friend named Adellyn, and she's pretty… uh, her name is. And. She. Is. XDXD<p>

OH, and please, review, feel free to flame if you find it bad, feel free to criticize, I've learned to take criticism well, and I rather find it encouraging because people who fix you care enough to try to help you. :) so yes, criticize me if you wish! ^^

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><p>Madddogg789 – heres your scene that's just for Eragon and his beloved dragon ^^ thanks for the reviewww~<p>

And the suggestion. :D

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><p>Restrained Freedom – she has to hide it well, she's a diplomat XD and with Sarissa… in the end, they would end up on opposite sides, and if she gave him leadership, she wouldn't go back on her word and it would keep them as close as death-life could be. But I do regret killing sarissa… I actually really liked her character :( thanks for the review~ you are a faithful reader. ^^<p>

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><p>Lilly314 – there are just some things in life that will never turn back normal, but we'll see~ thanks for the reviewww, keep reading! :D<p>

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><p>Cara – LOL, clearly. XD and really, it was just the wish to hone my skills, and its really working… my writing style has developed a bit I hope and think… :D thanks for the reviewwww<p>

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><p>Daxxx – OMFG THANK YOU I JUST FIXED THAT OMFG YOU CAUGHT ME THANK YOU SO MUCH.<p>

Anyways, thanks for the compliment and review too ^^

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><p>Eragon5443 – PAHAAA, and who would those characters be? I need to kill some people anyways ;) lol jk, thanks for the comment! ^^<p>

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><p>EminemBitches – sadistic. I like that. XD thanks brah, I'll be doing that sooner or later<p>

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><p>BokitoProof – welcome to my world ^^ thanks yousss :D<p>

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><p>ESMT – so true… and you will ^^ I'll bring him into the next chapter just for ya ;) loll<p>

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><p>Crysttal – I have a Chinese friend named crystal… omfg I love her. 3 LOL, anyways, thank you! I hope you can read my writing well enough, thanks for encouraging me!<p>

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><p>Riptide – PAHA, why thank you *bows*<p>

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><p>Katstarr327 – well… yes, but soon you'll see its still there, just lying dormant~ and trust me, all eternal things die out…. Cept for God, one exception only. XD thanksss, hope you like the rest of my story!<p>

Which I should work more on…


	25. Eka Vanla eom Flauga

**Chapter 24 – **_**Eka Vanla eom Flauga **_

"_No matter what others will say there is no real definition of love. It is a want, a desire, a longing, sympathy, passion and compassion, tears, pain, joy, love is like water, it moves around each person in a different way."_

_~Lord Rider Vrael, last leader of the Dragon Riders before the Fall_

Eragon shot to his feet just to be tackled back to his bed when Aelwyn bounded into his room, playfully rushing into him, entwining her long, slender limbs around him.

She smirked beautifully, sitting atop his rock-hard torso, her hair tickling his face.

He instantly regretted not having locked his door before changing his shirt. His tunic was lying on the bed, and right then he had nothing. That was something he didn't want to do with Aelwyn around.

"Aneira has returned," she purred, kissing his jaw. "I doubt she would mind if we were an hour late…"

"We should go greet her," Eragon said, smiling the tiniest bit, quickly rolling to pin her to the bed, once more the dominant figure. "You are so very persistent.

"Of course I am for someone as handsome and … alluring as you," she whispered, dragging him closer with her beautiful legs.

He could feel the pressure of her hips against his, the quick flutter of her eyelashes giving away her want she made no effort to hide. Her lips parted slightly, struggling against his iron grip.

He quelled the loveless desire with a quick burst of painful memories.

She looked up at him, arching her back up so she could kiss his chin, slowly trailing to his lips before she gently tugged at his lower lip, biting softly.

"No," he murmured. "Aelwyn, we cannot…"

"Please," she begged. "By the good fates, I want you so much, Eragon…"

He apologetically kissed her cheek.

"I cannot make this decision in your favor. Come, let us go speak with our sister."

* * *

><p>Aneira waited patiently—and somewhat warily due to the huge dragoness looking at her with huge, unblinking eyes—as Aelwyn walked into the large hall, cold from the lack of a fire in the winter morning, a young man walking beside her.<p>

The Hand did a fast double-take.

What was he?

His thoughts were completely blocked off from her powers, and what more, he looked like the cross of an elf and human, yet it looked normal and utterly obvious, unlike the half-bloods who seemed to only have subtle bits from both races. This man… he had the pointed ears of an elf and their grace, but the muscular build of a human warrior, the sharp gold-silver eyes of a keen hunter, and his strong-boned build was everything but elven.

Nothing dulled his beauty.

He was a good fate incarnate.

His fair, gold-brown hair flowed down to his shoulders in a gallant way, swaying with the wind, and then she glanced at his hands.

He wore black-gold gauntlets.

Immediately, she fell to her knees, her trainees doing the same when they saw the tell-tale gauntlets of the Lord Master.

"Lord Master, I am yours to command to the death," she said with awe.

It was known for the Lord Master or the Lady Mistress to take the strongest candidate and train them, but she never knew Sarissa had found such a god-like man to be her mate and her successor. She had chosen well, she could tell just by looking at him.

He held out a hand to her, "Please, do be comfortable around me. You must be Mistress Aneira, you are as fair and beautiful as Aelwyn claimed."

Aelwyn pouted, "I never said anything of the such."

"Yet all Hands are, so I automatically assumed," the Lord Master said, giving a small smile to his accompanying hand.

Aneira reverently took his hand as he helped her to her feet. She felt a fleeting flare of fear when she remembered she had taken off her gauntlets. It was dishonorable to even touch the Lord Master without gauntlets.

That fear turned to shock and quiet admiration when he bowed chivalrously, kissing her knuckles in a way that was neither lustful or cold, but warm and even though it was meant to be a way of showing respect, it felt like he had just accepted her request to know him better. It was like a show of friendship, and she loved the feeling.

_Wonderful, a distractingly handsome and charming Lord Master. This is new._

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Mistress Aneira," he said with a beautiful, lilting voice, one even the elves could not match when they were singing their hearts out.

"It is a privilege to stand among your presence, Lord Master," she managed, though her voice came out dry and like a young woman who had met the handsomest man in the world.

It might as well be true, for he was probably the handsomest being that walked on Alagaësian soil, and he made her feel like a young child falling head over heels over him.

He smiled in a way that made her heart skip beats.

She then realized why Aelwyn had been so anxious to see him.

"It is a right for you to know and befriend your leader, Aneira. You may call me Eragon, for that is my name."

Just then, the doors slammed open, a full-blooded elf running into the room, beautiful, fair, raven-haired, her gorgeous emerald eyes, like the color of green beryl, glancing over the occupants, ending at Eragon.

"Eragon, who are they?"

Aelwyn frowned, "You can ask them, princess."

Arya raised an eyebrow, coaxing a frustrated groan out of the Hand who had seen too many raised eyebrows in her lifetime.

Aneira inclined her head, "You are Elfkind, are you not?"

"That is correct, mistress…"

"Aneira," she filled in.

Eragon indicated her and her entourage, "Aneira, this is the elven ambassador Arya, a close friend of mine. I think Aelwyn has taken a liking to her."

Aelwyn scowled, "Me? Take a liking to this elven woman with the twitchy eyebrows? Eragon, you have to be kidding me."

Then the Hand slung her arms around the shocked elf, leaning against the taller woman with a sly grin as she winked at an amused Eragon.

Arya coughed.

Aelwyn smirked, "What, princess, feeling uncomfortable?"

"Not at all. I was just about to mention that you were leaning against my unsheathed dagger. You may want to be careful."

Aelwyn raised an eyebrow.

"Such a hypocrite," Eragon muttered.

* * *

><p>The council watched as the two Hands walked in, Aneira and her broad-shouldered, quiet mate walking beside her. Her four apprentices came in, all holding bundles of things, Eragon watching them with curiosity.<p>

"You say Sarissa left them for me before her death?" he asked quietly.

Aneira nodded, untying her bundle to produce a beautiful black and gold scabbard.

She held it out to him.

He took it in his hands, the Nighthawks on the tips of their feet in suspicion. None of the people in the tent save Arya, Eragon, and Aelwyn trusted the other Hands.

He drew the sword out from the glossy black sheath, the golden strips twined around in a seemingly random pattern that would probably make a man dizzy from trying to follow the beautiful waves.

The blade was razor-sharp, as if he could cleave the very air he breathed.

He gave an experimental arc, appreciating the feather-light, black-metal blade, veins of gold running through it.

"The sword of the Lord Master," Aneira said. "The Lady Mistress has her own sword, but I doubt Sarissa ever used hers."

Eragon vaguely remembered seeing a beautiful scabbard and sword propped against the inside of the wardrobe, somewhat like his, but slimmer and a little less on the hack-and-slash type of sword.

He did a rapid twirl with the sword and slammed it into the sheath with a deadly hiss and clack.

Aneira set a few of the bundles on the table in front of her.

She reached into the bundle, and produced a dagger, throwing it to Eragon with blinding speed.

Arya leapt to her feet, but to her shock, she saw Eragon holding the ornate dagger between his fingers, looking at it with amusement.

The Nighthawks had their weapons drawn, Aneira eyeing them amusedly.

"Be at peace. It is normal for Hands to throw weaponry at each other."

The guards settled back warily.

"Weaponry, blades, bows, arrows, other… stranger weapons I have no idea about," she said. Then pointing to a second bundle: "More uniforms, black and gold. They also have very pretty belts."

Aelwyn smirked, nudging Eragon with her elbow, "I'm sure they would look absolutely _marvelous_ on you, milord."

He just chuckled.

"There is something she was very particular about though, Lord Master."

Aneira took the last bundle from the arms of one of her apprentices, walking over to him.

She set it in his arms.

Eragon's heart stopped.

The violet-blue eyes of a young baby child looked up at him with a warm, adoring expression.

Aelwyn pursed her lips, leaning back against her chair, clearly at unease.

Arya's hands were over her mouth, Saphira's eyes unblinking as she stared at the child in his arms.

"I can tell Sarissa is the mother… who was the father?" he asked hoarsely.

Aneira frowned, "She never told you, Lord Master?"

Arya reached over, touching the brownish hair that angelically graced the head of the young child.

"Do you know someone else who has this hair?" she whispered into his ear softly.

The breath from her lips ruffled his hair.

"By the stars," he murmured, drawing Sarissa's child to his chest, quietly holding back his tears.

Nasuada bit her lip, Aneira looking torn between wanting to comfort him and her respect and reverence of the Lord Master.

Arya gently pulled him to his feet, "Come… we shall walk, Eragon."

No one said anything as they left, Aneira, Aelwyn, Saphira, Calayn, Kalyn, and Blödhgarm following.

Sarissa's child.

No…

_Their_ child.

* * *

><p>Eragon sat in his bed, the two dreamwraiths and Arya with him. The others had gone to plan a group of riders to make haste to Belatona to inform Roran and Katrina.<p>

Arya's fingers were resting comfortingly on his arm, the other gently stroking the sleeping child's face.

"You never knew?" she asked softly. "How is it possible?... You were there nigh two months…"

Aelwyn strode into the room, sitting promptly by Eragon.

"The Restoration."

Eragon nodded slowly.

"She never told me…"

Kalyn hesitantly looked up at his liege lord.

"It was for the better, my lord. My mother, when she was pregnant with us, did not tell our father until we were almost a season-cycle old. She was afraid my father would become too worried with the children to protect their Lord Rider, no matter how despicable he was. Perhaps she was worried about your safety, my lord."

"What is his name? Did she name him?" he asked softly, looking over at Aelwyn.

She nodded.

"His name is Evilan Viyala."

Eragon swiftly set the child in Arya's arms, "I… wish to walk for a bit."

* * *

><p>Eragon ran outside, leaping onto Saphira bare-back.<p>

_Saphira… I want to fly._

Her soft thrum of pleasure vibrated through the dragoness.

_No, Eragon. _We_ want to fly._

With one powerful down stroke, she rocketed into the sky, leaving their troubles behind if only for a few hours.

_What does his name mean?_

Eragon hesitated.

_Eternal Victory._

It hurt. Even from the grave she hurt him, but this time in love.

He took a deep breath of the cool air.

Sky was freedom. Sky was simplistic. Sky had no barriers.

It was simply…

Simply flying.

Him and the one being his love would never die out for.

* * *

><p>Translation: <em>Eka Vanla eom Flauga <em>(title) – I Want to Fly

* * *

><p>TN: <em>Vanla<em> is mine…^^

* * *

><p>AN: OK, THIS CHAPTER WAS REALLY, REALLY, REALLY HURRIED, SO SORRY, I JUST CANT FIND ENOUGH TIME AND INSPIRATION THESE DAYS, JUST WAIT, I'LL REGAIN MY WRITING LIGHTBULBS, PROMISE.<p>

no relation to that cliché saying in the _Titanic_. Though that was a pretty good movie, I liked it… XD and I'm a guy… I'm so weird.

And now that I think of it, I think Aelwyn is kinda like Berdine… lol, only you people who read the SoT books would understand XD

and please do review o.o;; i need feedback so i know what you guys want and think, anonymous review is on, so anyone can review, but please, constructive criticism only... ^^; thank youuu

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><p>Cara – thanksss! ^^<p>

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><p>Lord Damon Shadowmage – they totally are. LOL, thanksss~ :D<p>

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><p>Viro – thank youuuu~<p>

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><p>Maddog789 – that's actually a pretty good idea… LOL, thanks for the suggestion :D and yes you should XD thanks too!<p>

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><p>ESMT – I'm thinking about dedicating the next whole chapter to the two dragon rider half-brothers…. :D thank youuu~<p>

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><p>Daxx – thank youuuu! ^^<p>

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><p>Obliterator1519 – loll, that would be interesting XD I'll see to that~<p>

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><p>THeReeDeR9295 – your name is hard to spell. LOL, I'll most definitely get to that wish XD<p>

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><p>EminemBitches – HAHAHAHA, alright, you go do that XD thanks brahh<p>

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><p>Riptide – LOL, yes, I'm sure XD thank youu~<p>

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><p>BokitoProof – I'll just tell you straight out his eyes won't change back, but thank you for the review! ^^<p>

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><p>Fanboy123 – you'll start to see them, promise XD thank youuuu<p>

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><p>Restrained Freedom – I hope this chapter was just as amusing. XD I found myself chuckling at Aelwyn and Arya. Those two are going to be quick friends, promise you that LOL, thankssss<p>

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><p>Eragon5443 – thank youuuu! ^^<p>

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><p>Eagaon2012 – thanksss! :D<p>

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><p>Darth Feanor – OMFG THEY NEED TO TALK TO GLAEDR… THANK YOU :D<p>

For the review too. :)

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><p>Commander Bibliophile Napoleon – thanksss XD<p> 


	26. Gata abr Freohr

**My personal thanks to Legolas Thranduilion for including me in his community ^^ thank youuuu~ if any of you wish to visit it, please do**

**http: /www. /community/ The_End_In_Life _Or_Death_Victory _Or_Defeat_ Either_Way_It_Is _ The_End /78441/**

**just take out all the spaces. XD**

**and another important notice! for all of you who want to know if i am discontinuing this story ITS A LIEEE. ^^ lol but for real, this story is going to keep going. :3 so just be patient, school has really been time consuming and i have to get ready for homecoming... and y'know. dates. LOL alright so yeah just wait. :) i'll try and get the next chapter up as soon as possible~**

**Chapter 25 – **_**Gata abr Freohr**_

"_Prophesies? I do not trust in them. They shall tell you that you shall die at the hand of a friend. Perhaps you will. Perhaps your friend gives you an illness and you die. The prophesy would have been fulfilled. Prophesy is the master of deception and finding loops and bends, taking a longer route to accomplish something that could be done in a straight line."_

_~Lord Rider Vrael_

Eragon quietly cradled Evilan in his arms, the child fast asleep within the cloak he wore instead of a blanket.

Aelwyn had nearly forced the guards to leave, saying she was a far better protector than any of them, and now slept in a comfortable position beside him, her head resting by his side. Seductive, charming, beautiful, but it didn't matter to him. She had taken him under her wings and had guided him through so much and had been his loyal friend and he loved her for that alone. Her gauntlets lay on the bedside-table, the blood-red metal hands looking deadly even when lying still on a desk of wood.

She was sleeping.

It made him smile.

He preferred sleep, but if the need arose, he had been taught how to fall into a fully-aware trance-like state, your sense of hearing, smell, feel, and split-second reactions heightened far beyond any twenty elves combined. Though his eyes were closed, he could hear the difference between the light tread of a wolf and the slightly quieter padding of a fox. He could hear the scampering of mice and tell exactly where it was, all to make up for his temporary blindness. It was like sleep, just sleeping fully aware of what was going on around you. Sleep rarely came to the Hands. Her sleeping—fully sleeping—was a mutual show of immense trust and close friendship.

Sighing at his restlessness, he drew his cloak tighter around him and Evilan, gently pushing open the balcony door as not to startle Aelwyn into the land of the waking.

The cool breeze instantly stole his tiredness away, Evilan's eyes snapping open with a gaze only a child of two Hands could have.

It had been the Restorations. They had decreased her pregnancy time by leaps and bounds, but it had also made her birthing a little harder than it should have been. But Sarissa had been a Hand of Death. Pain was life, life was pain, and living life was to accept pain. After having received Restorations so many times and been on the giving end just as much, her body had come to believe herself immortal, her body processes were much faster, her reactions faster than most elves, as were his now. Two weeks were all she needed.

Evilan looked up at the stars, his startled gaze turning into awe and child-like infatuation.

Eragon almost smiled.

"_Mistress, do you like stars?"_

_She laughed that beautiful laugh of hers that sounded like the singing of angels._

"_My love, a blind man knows the beauty of stars. Nothing can surpass them. I do not like stars. I love stars. Perhaps I _am_ a monster, but I thank the good fates that I can look up at the stars and sigh with wonder and marvel at how beautiful they are."_

The Dragon Rider swooped his head down, kissing their son's forehead, drawing the child's attention.

"Evilan, do you see those stars?"

He reinforced his question with a mental picture of the stars above them, Evilan cooing with delight.

That drew a true, wondrous smile from him.

"Your mother loved the stars and how beautiful and wonderful they were. She was no monster. When you grow up, you shall hear how your mother slaughtered hundreds, thousands, scores upon scores of men. But she was no monster. No monster can see beauty in stars and look up at them, turn to her companion, and say 'the stars are beautiful tonight,' and truly mean it. You had a mother I never deserved, my son. You had a mother who is as beautiful as the stars she loved."

The child's thoughts shifted to a vague image of Sarissa, slightly rugged, a little less accurate.

Eragon showed his son a quick memory of Sarissa, the child's eyes turning bright with awe.

This child would never be a monster.

Evilan Viyala Eragonson had seen beauty.

For the remainder of the time he stayed awake, the child gazed up at the stars, his thoughts never holding anything but wonderment and adoration for those glowing, shimmering, twinkling spots in the black sky his beautiful mother had loved so.

* * *

><p><em>Eragon.<em>

Eragon shot up from his bed, clutching Evilan protectively.

_Eragon, be calm._

Ebrithil _Glaedr?_ Eragon asked in shock, trying to hold onto the strand of thought that was the ancient dragon.

_Come to me, I wish to speak with you._

_Of course, _ebrithil_. Where do you rest?_

_I am in Arya's room._

* * *

><p>Arya stirred when she heard her door slip open with a tiny swish of air.<p>

"Arya?"

She pushed herself up, drawing the blanket around her, "Eragon? What is wrong?"

He shook his head, gracefully gliding over to her, gently pushing her back down to warmly tuck the covers against her, "'Tis nothing, _fricai_. _Ebrithil _Glaedr asked me to speak with him."

She indicated a leather pouch upon the small wardrobe.

* * *

><p>The thoughts of his dragon master flooded his mind, a gentle tidal wave of comfort.<p>

_You have changed much, Eragon _finiarel.

Eragon almost smiled.

_Master, if you call me _finiarel_, then I have changed much from a foolish young boy._

The dragon thrummed with quiet laughter.

_Perhaps. I sense your pain, hatchling. Do you wish to speak of it?_

The Dragon Rider hesitated.

Simply opening up his mind to his mentor, he let his memories, his thoughts, his longings and regrets all shared with the golden dragon who resided inside the Eldunarí.

It felt like hours, but he knew not much time had passed.

When Glaedr finally spoke, the voice was unsure.

_You… love Sarissa?_

_Yes… I did—still do perhaps._

The dragon was silent.

_By the stars…_

He said nothing more.

* * *

><p>Aelwyn woke up to find Evilan in her arms, Eragon absent from his place beside her.<p>

Pity, she had been planning to have fun waking him up.

She gently laid the child in the bed, stretching like a cat, her joints and bones popping loudly as she curled and yawned, casually slipping on her gauntlets, too used to the pain to even react anymore.

Swiftly buttoning the top half of her shirt—which she had left undone for Eragon's annoyance—she swept her friends' child in her arms, striding out the door.

The first soldier she saw saluted, "Ma'am! Rider Eragon asked me to tell you to meet him at the stables when you awoke."

She raised an eyebrow, "A strange place to seduce me."

The soldier almost smiled.

"He also added in that he was not planning to seduce you."

She pouted, "Oh, that man. Alright, do you have any idea what's going on?"

"Only that a few hours before, a dreamwraith returned from Vroengard and was demanding to see Lady Calayn and Rider Eragon."

She bristled.

She didn't like the dreamwraiths. They unsettled her for some strange reason. Whenever she reached out to see if she could feel their thoughts, they would spin towards her, a blank look on their face.

Their thoughts were invisible to her, akin to trying to grip quicksilver in your hands.

That was unsettling. What made her even more uneasy was the fact that they could sense her powers. Not even a Hand could tell if another Hand was reading their thoughts.

"Very well, proceed, find a lady, have fun tonight," she winked, strolling off without a hitch in her gait. She could kill a dreamwraith with ease. The only barrier between her and them was Eragon, and she would give up her life for him if he merely held out a hand.

She strode into the stables, kicking open the doors, startling a few horses and stable boys.

"Eragon, why do you leave a messenger to tell me to come to the stables? Do you not thing a bath is much more comfortable to make love it?" she shouted with feigned exasperation.

She could literally feel all the thoughts turn from confusion and anger to something along the lines of horror and absolute terror. None of the Varden would dare be so brazen with _the_ Dragon Rider, and here was this woman openly teasing him about subjects old maids gossiped over.

"If I had been planning to seduce you, I would have mentioned for you to leave Evilan in the care of Arya or Calayn or Aneira," a wry voice said softly.

Right beside her.

She stifled a shout of surprise.

This was not normal.

Evilan let out a small cry of joy, his small arms reaching for the man he knew as father now.

Aelwyn scowled as she handed Eragon his son.

"When did I teach you so well?"

He gave a small smile, "During the times you were not trying to bed me. I must travel to Vroengard. I thought you would like to go."

"Is that a question?"

"Not necessarily."

"Good. Because if it was you would find yourself flying without wings towards Vroengard. Say, do you not think Saphira would be the best way to get there? And not to mention I'm quite fond of having two people teasing you, not just me. Arya is too boring."

The people who worked in the stables were horrified to no end.

Not only had she slandered their Dragon Rider, but now also an essential, important member of the Varden. She was incredibly stupid or arrogant.

Or horrifying.

"Have you bed her yet? Sarissa became happier after you, perhaps you could make Arya smile more."

Horrifying just got even more horrifying.

Eragon raised an eyebrow.

"Saphira is coming. I just wanted you to ride a horse there so I have no need to see your hideous face during the time it takes to get there."

Aelwyn pouted.

It swiftly turned into a small smile when he kissed her cheek, "No, I love being in your company, Aelwyn. It is just that I wanted to talk to Iawen before I left."

The horse nickered behind him, the pitch-black stallion looking over his master's shoulder with frighteningly green eyes that made her heart stop every time she saw them. Horses were never supposed to have green eyes, yet Sarissa's did.

Aelwyn supposed it fit her sister-warrior's strange, powerful, deadly prowess and visual imagery.

Eragon murmured some quiet words to the horse, kissing the powerful destrier's forehead.

He smiled when a rough tongue licked his cheek, Iawen snorting before pushing against Eragon's chest with his muzzle.

Aelwyn smirked, "So, it seems like you like horses more than women."

She got that sinking feeling he had a better retort when she saw the mischievous grin on his lips.

"Oh, perhaps I do. Women have mouths to speak."

He leaned forward, his face barely a fingerbreadth from hers.

"Horses simply listen. You should learn to be silent."

Her jaw dropped open.

"They do not stare in abstract shock either. It is very hard to offend them."

"Eragon Bromsson, I will throw you back into the lake!" she snapped indignantly, the Dragon Rider sprinting out of the stables.

"Horses do not do that either!"

"Oh, but they kick, but a Hand of Death kicks harder, you fool!"

* * *

><p>Saphira thrummed happily when Eragon leapt onto her back, kissing her neck tenderly.<p>

_Why do you bring the crazy woman instead of Arya?_ the dragoness asked wryly.

_I will sleep better knowing Arya is safe in Gil'ead._

_If that were ever possible. She barely sleeps._

Eragon looked at his soul-mate.

_She does not?_

_No. Would you be able to sleep easily in the city where you were hung about the maw of hell for weeks on end?_

Eragon's heart skipped a few beats.

_Can you carry three?_

_With ease. I am not the weakling I once was._

_I wish you had been so I could brag I was once stronger than you._

Saphira gave a toothy grin.

* * *

><p>Arya was furious.<p>

That fool of a Dragon Rider dare no—

"Arya! There you are!"

She spun to see Eragon running over to her, dressed in his usual black and gold uniform.

Those horrid, horrifying gauntlets…

"You wish to come? Aelwyn will not mind the extra company," he said, giving a small, hopeful, apologetic smile.

She tried to scowl but it came out as a returning smile.

"Of course. I was about to hunt you down for not telling me of your departure, and even more so for not asking me to come."

* * *

><p>They made good time, making it close to the foot of the Spine by the end of two days. It was relieving to be out of that painfully familiar city where she had sometimes been paraded through with Durza holding her by a leash.<p>

It had been humiliating.

Men had leered at her, but most of all, they all despised her.

Now they feared her.

But it still had scarred her. It ached, burned, tore at her, easing only when she felt the comfort of Eragon's presence near her. He chased the pain away somehow, with his beautiful innocence, his care, his concern for her.

Right now, she basked in the warmth of his embrace as he leaned against Saphira's fire chamber.

Half of her wanted to run out of his embrace and berated her for letting him even touch her. The other half loved it and never wanted to leave the gentle, soothing shelter.

The latter half won this time.

He leaned down slightly, his lips brushing her ear.

"I have been told that you do not sleep."

She hesitated.

"You need not worry, Eragon."

"You are a friend, Arya, one of my few. I worry about you, whether I wish to or not."

She sighed softly.

"'Tis Gil'ead. How can I sleep in the city of my torment?"

Shivers ran down her body when he gently drew her closer to him, cradling her like a young child.

"Because I will not let you go through any more torment if I may take it upon myself. I promise," he whispered.

* * *

><p>"There is not much to explain," Eragon said quietly. "Estelan told me that while he and his group were there, a huge quake struck the city, but no buildings fell. They say when they explored after the shaking, they found that the foundations of the city were built in deep as if the builders knew of the quakes. Then while they were looking around, they found a deep vault. One dreamwraith of his group died from the wards. Another died from the wounds he received. Yet another lost her arm."<p>

Arya's eyes narrowed, maybe from the wind that blew through her hair.

"But…"

"Dreamwraiths cannot be touched by defensive wards, I know," Eragon agreed. "But this one killed two and hurt another. Death cannot be faked."

Aelwyn's eyes were distant.

"_Cadialos_ _dwinath_," she said simply.

Eragon looked over at her, his brows furrowing with her words.

"_Elaû? Adíl Vroengardrosa, lëdu ka Cadiala_."

She shrugged.

"He is Cadian. How?"

Eragon fell silent.

Arya was lost.

"Eragon?" she asked hesitantly.

He pursed his lips.

"Sarissa's teacher was a man, a Cadian, by the name of Lord Master Aias. He had a great number of mates. A few had children."

He looked at Arya, his eyes dark.

"He had one particular son by the name of Brom Aiasson."

* * *

><p>Saphira gently curled Eragon up in her wing.<p>

_My love… Just because your grandsire was a harsh, cold, killer, your father became a man who was loved and respected and remembered with honor. So are you. You are not your grandsire. You are not Aias._

_No… I have accepted my heritage. But I understand why he did what he did._

The dragoness looked at Eragon with curiosity and worry.

_He loved me. He saw me. He saw visions… of me. And my war. He saw you. He saw my future, and he saw me die from my weakness. So he searched for a woman who would train me, but he was especially careful about who he trained, and how he trained her._

_He took Sarissa, took her life, and shattered into a million shards, but he knew when she met me, she would break all over again. I broke her, Saphira… Aias loved me, grandfather, my grandfather, a murderer, a killer, a horrible man, still had enough of his humanity left to love his grandson and to help me through death. By the stars… if only I could hate him… I cannot hate a man who loved me enough to give his life…_

She pulled him closer to her warm flanks, protectively keeping her powerful wings around her beloved rider.

_I can tell she loved you._

_And how? How? By the stars I miss her so much…_

_You love Sarissa, do you not?_

_With all my heart._

_Then who is she not to love you back?_

_An Arya, my queen of the skies. Another Arya._

* * *

><p>Something was amiss.<p>

Right when they flew into the seeing distance of Vroengard and Doru Areaba, Eragon felt an intense pain in his left chest.

Aelwyn hissed, clutching at where her heart would be.

"Eragon? Aelwyn?" Arya asked worriedly.

"Something is wrong," Eragon rasped hoarsely.

The pain was beyond words. It was like having a thousand blades drag and cut and tease and rip and shred, like hearing the truth except ten times as painful.

Aelwyn let out a quiet whimper.

"Stay back," he said softly to Aelwyn. "It hurts me to see you in pain."

"No," she said through gritted teeth, groaning helplessly. "By the stars, I will walk with you to hell and back if you asked, and if you didn't ask, I'd do it over again. I will not leave your side."

He clasped her hand.

"It is Cadian. It can be no other. It does not hurt Arya."

Saphira slightly faltered in flight.

_I can_.

Eragon urged her down.

_We will walk. I do not wish to risk you getting hurt._

_By the stars, what is wrong here?_ Saphira asked furiously as she descended a bit faster than usual. He could feel her thoughts muddy with pain and agony.

_I do not believe Kuthian has finished speaking to me._

* * *

><p>The vault was right where Estelan had said it was, east of the west tower, fifty elf-paces to the east, behind the bushes.<p>

A few skeletons lay beside the entrance when Eragon used magic to move the bushes.

The same pain that was constantly making Aelwyn wince and hiss was gnawing at him, and it only intensified when he felt the waves of magic rolling out of the cave.

_You have come._

He recognized the figure walking out of the cave.

Arya drew out her sword, "Take another step and I shall smite your head off," she growled dangerously.

Eragon pushed the blade down.

"My lord."

The man bowed from the waist, "No. _My_ lord. Welcome once more."

Aelwyn gripped his arm.

"Eragon…"

Then she fainted in his arms.

Kuthian looked at the unconscious woman.

"You should not have brought another Cadian. The pain would be too much for even a Hand of Death."

Then Eragon saw what his friend had been looking at.

Above the cave, in neat engravings of the Cadian alphabet, were written two words.

_Malanamo Vyiliya._

Path of Death.

"You will not kill Aelwyn," Eragon hissed furiously.

"Her training serves her well. Had she been a regular Cadian, she would have died. She will only ache, but will not wake until she leaves the island. The pain of coming to this island will die away soon. But for now, I must speak with you."

Eragon gently placed Aelwyn in Arya's arms.

"Take care of her," he whispered.

Then he walked down the stairs.

* * *

><p>"High Master Aias… was what I suppose you call a close acquaintance. I knew him and we were on good terms. He served justice in his own harsh way. He was also a powerful spellweaver. He created this place. You do not understand the beginning of magic. When you leave, you shall know what Aias knew. And you will learn much more."<p>

Eragon walked silently beside Kuthian, the pain subsiding now for some reason.

Then he saw the engravings in the walls.

"What are they?"

"Prophesies. Omens. Blessings. Curses. It is nothing but the truth. But there is a certain one you must see."

The long-dead Lord Rider soon came to a stop in a dark area.

"_Rosaní._"

It was huge cavern.

On one wall, engravings covered it from ceiling to floor.

"Read it. Learn. And we shall speak some more."

* * *

><p>Kuthian waited.<p>

An hour or two later—time had no meaning to him—Eragon came out.

His eyes had a haunted quality to them.

"Aias studied magic for centuries. He learned many things for those long, long years," Kuthian said softly. "He learned that magic is tied to life so intimately, that even death could not sever that bond. He also learned that magic is wound around death with strength that cannot be matched. But as he delved deeper into the world of magic, he found much, much more.

"He found that magic was entwined with something called prophesy. Magic, prophesy, death, life. Prophesy uses life, death, and magic to speak to us. Magic uses prophesy, death, and life. Life uses death, prophesy, and magic. Death uses magic, prophesy, and life. Without one, the cycle is broken. This place is special. Aias learned the way to separate the bonds. This place has no death, no life. Only prophesy and magic. Apply the tiniest amount of energy to a light spell, it will blind you. Every word you speak here will somehow be tied to prophesy or an omen or something of the like. You understand?"

Eragon nodded slowly.

"You do not understand how selfless and good-hearted Aias was… all you know of him is that he trained Sarissa and is your grandsire. Now I tell you, despite the horrible stories of him, he was kind-hearted under that thick wall of diamond he put around himself. Have you ever heard of something called 'prophesy shattering'?"

The Dragon Rider looked at his forbearer in confusion.

"Ah… Of course, you would not have learned it from anyone. Here, remember carefully how there are four factors in this universe, four, and only four, life, death, magic, prophesy. If I took away life, death, or magic, then prophesy would fail. This is where he learned to do things beyond imagination.

"Aias learned to shatter prophesies."

* * *

><p>Translation: <em>Gata abr Freohr <em>(title) – Path of Death

_Cadialos dwinath _(Cadian) _– _Cadian magic

_Elaû? Adíl Vroengardrosa, lëdu Cadiala_ (Cadian) – How? It is (_adíl_) Vroengard, not Cadia.

_Rosaní _(Cadian) – Light

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><p>TN: everything except the title is mine~<p>

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><p>AN: OAISJFSALDKSJ I'M SO SORRY I TOOK FOREVER TO UPDATE AHHHHHHHH, ITS NOT MY FAULT, BLAME MY TEACHERS AND PARENTS. but hey. i gave you guys an extra long chapter this time to make up for lost time. XD<p>

Anyways… yes, here is where the title comes in. I'll explain more the next chapter, but I hope you liked itt~ Aelwyn's fine if you guys were worried. XD I love her character too much, I can't kill her off easily.

ANDDD people pleasee, do not be afraid to review, anonymous review is enabled, so anyone may review, critique, suggest things, and give me feedback in general. :) i need it to become a better writer, which this whole thing is about to me. please do take the minute or so it takes to write a simple revieww :D thank you so much to my reviewersss

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><p>Viro – loll I'm thinking so. XD thank youu~<p>

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><p>Eagon2012 – thanksss! ^^<p>

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><p>Obliterator1519 – LOLLL XD thank youuuu :)<p>

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><p>Dr. Vladimir – I'm working on that. ^^ pahaaa, thankssss :D<p>

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><p>Eradon son of awesomeness – Eragon would make a good father, don't you think?... :D loll thanksss~<p>

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><p>ESMT – I never told you guys what his name means… NEXT CHAPTER SHALL SHOW WHAT EVILAN'S NAME MEANSSSS<p>

Thanks for the reviewww ^^

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><p>Daxxx – HAHAHAHAHA, GALBATORIX GETS HIS BUTT KICKED BY A BABYY, OH YESSSS XD lol, not really. we'll see about ExA though~<p>

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><p>EminemBitches – LOOLLLL XD I don't think he would have planned to learn that spell very soon XDDD thanks brahhhh<p>

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><p>Darth Feanor – Eragon's a father, Eragon's a fatherrrrr~ ^^ thank youuusssss<p>

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><p>Cara – LOL, I'm gonna keep throwing them at you ^^ thankss~ and I hope the chapter explained it… didn't it?<p>

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><p>Riptide – PAHAA XD thanksss, I'll do my best~<p>

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><p>Fanboy123 – thank youuu! ^^ big compliment~ and ikr?... *le sighhh* I need my lightbulbs again.<p>

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><p>Eragon5443 – o.o;; I'd rather not have a pirate army raining on my head. XD I'm working on it, promiseeee<p> 


	27. Dauthleikr

**Chapter 26 – **_**Dauthleikr**_

"_I will not lie. I believe humans are more powerful than elves. Elves do not plan for the next generation for they are eternal. Why should we? But humans… they never cease to amaze me. They do not reap what they sow, they sow what their forefathers gave them. That is the power of mortality."_

_~Queen Islanzadí, Queen of the Elves, mate of the late King Evander, mother of Arya_

Arya gave a small sigh of relief when Aelwyn stirred, groaning as she struggled into a sitting position. She knew better than to try and convince the Hand to stay lying down.

"Where is he?" she asked hoarsely, nodding her thanks when the elf handed her a skin of water.

"Still at the cave," she said softly, sitting down by the woman who winced, biting her lip, clearly still in the range of the Cadian magic. "He told me to bring you here. Does it still hurt?"

In the past few days, Arya had become fond of the blunt, sweet, and sarcastic Hand of Death, surprising herself a few times when she offered to help her new companion. Though she would hate to admit it, she found the relationship between Eragon and Aelwyn entertaining and it made her slightly jealous at the same time.

"I shall deal with the pain," Aelwyn managed.

Arya nodded slightly.

"I felt a man's mind. Who was it? Did he harm Eragon?" the Hand demanded.

The elven princess gave a small shake of her head, "I would not be here if he had, Aelwyn, sit still, Eragon would not want you to harm yourself."

At his name the Hand quieted down, much to Arya's surprise and relief.

_You definitely have changed, Eragon_… she mused to herself.

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><p>Eragon sat alone atop the stone rampart, legs crossed as he precariously balanced on the top of one of the stones, his thoughts desperately trying to bring themselves together so he could make sense of them.<p>

Too much was happening.

"Something keeps you from the solace your mind seeks?" a soft, all-too familiar voice asked.

"It always has," he replied, his voice somewhere between a breath and a murmur. "It always evades my grasp."

Arya sat down beside him, gently leaning against him, making him feel that strange flutter in his chest that came whenever they touched. Her slender, leather clad legs stretched out as she gave a small smile to him.

"Perhaps you need to stop searching and let it come to you?" she suggested in a hushed voice. "Perhaps solace has no need of seekers, just receivers."

Neither of them spoke for a good while as the sun slowly began its climb back down from the eternal ladder of heaven.

"Perhaps you are right," he chuckled mirthlessly. "Why do I search for solace in war?"

His heart did the little flutter once more when her hand came to rest over it.

"Because the same strength and hope that beats under my hand believes and knows that one day the war will end," she whispered.

His eyes grew dark and stormy, but not with fury.

"And should that strength and hope die and lose its beat for all eternity?" he asked, taking her soft, seemingly frail hand in his calloused, powerful one.

She gave a tentative attempt to smile.

"Your hope shall never die, Eragon. You gave us hope. You gave Alagaësia hope."

Then she hesitated.

"And in many ways, Eragon, you have given _me_ hope."

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><p>Aelwyn shot up when she heard the near-silent tread, relaxing when she saw Arya's slim form float through woods surrounding the wall of the former stronghold of the Dragon Riders.<p>

"He asked for some time to think," the elf said in explanation to the question that no doubt was in the Hand's eyes. "He has much to take in. He promised he would be back in the morning."

Aelwyn watched her friend carefully, cautiously leaning back into the shadow so even Arya's powerful sight couldn't see her calculative look.

She caught that tiny slip of composure.

"Something bothering you?" she asked casually.

The elf's eyes shot up towards her, only to go back to the campfire.

"No. Thank you for asking, my sister."

"Arya, I can read your face. And more than that, should the need arise, I could read your mind. Do not lie to me."

Another fast slip and the elf caught it twice as quickly.

The Hand would have been lying if she said she wasn't impressed. Not many could keep their face as impassive as the elven diplomat.

"'Tis nothing."

The Hand just gave a dry smirk, shrugging as if nothing could be done.

"Whatever you say."

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><p>Nasuada rode at the head of the Varden's column, desperately praying that Eragon had received her message. Without their Dragon Rider and the two strong women who now led with him during most battles, the fight would most likely take a turn for the ill.<p>

"Lady Nightstalker!" a man called, his beautiful brown stallion cantering up from a few rows behind her, pulling up beside him to lean over until he was closer to her ear. "Rider Eragon has responded and says he shall make all haste to Lialath."

She bit her lip, fighting back a sigh of relief.

"Very well, thank you, colonel."

The man tapped his fist against his chest, bowing before pulling his horse back.

The battle now lay in the speed of a dragoness' wings.

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><p>Arya awoke, instantly aware of the fact that the wind had picked up and was rustling against her, bringing the scent of something very familiar.<p>

Her eyes narrowed, also noticing how the rock she rested against was very warm.

_Good morning, Arya_, a wry dragoness said cheerily.

The elf groaned quietly in response.

"Ah, so you are awake," another wry voice commented, the smile easily noticed behind the charming sound.

"I am honored that you should notice," she said tiredly, quickly muttering a few words to condense the water dispersed in the air around them, washing her face. "Could the chivalrous Dragon Rider tell me why we are in the air?"

"A battle has been decided to be fought at Lialath in two days. The Varden is scrambling to get there," Aelwyn grumbled with no little amount of annoyance.

"Lialath?"

Eragon shrugged and nodded.

"Galbatorix apparently sent a messenger with the news not too long ago. She asked Blödhgarm to contact me but he had some trouble. The Cadian magic was throwing his Alagaësian magic askew."

Arya masterfully hid her frown, trying to think of a logical reason anyone would want to fight over Lialath. It wasn't much of a city, mainly a village that relied on agriculture and hunting along the boundary of the Hadarac.

As if reading her mind, Eragon chuckled.

"Silly rumors. Stories have reached our ears that the people in Lialath have strange mages. Galbatorix wants them. The Varden either wants them or doesn't want Galbatorix to have them."

"War seems so simple when you speak of it," Arya teased drily.

The Dragon Rider simply smiled.

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><p>Ralmir stood by Blödhgarm, the two powerful warriors cloaked in pitch black cloaks as they slipped silently from shadow to shadow, surveying the opposing army and the field of battle that had been agreed upon.<p>

"I say a good fifteen thousand," Ralmir said in a hushed tone, his well-oiled, ash-smothered armor moving without a sound as he twisted his head, taking in the vast army the Empire had dispatched for the battle. "We should have brought but five thousand more from Belatona and we would have outnumbered them. It is about equal at the moment, no?"

Blödhgarm nodded slowly, quickly making tactical calculations.

"Ralmir, could your warriors form that shield wall you spoke of?"

"Without a doubt," he said. "We were trained since birth, there is not a single warrior who does not know how to fit into a wall from Lathina."

"When the battle starts, your warriors must form it. I know of the great dragoness' speed, but I do not think they will be in time for the beginning of the battle, maybe not for the whole battle. Should it come down to it, we may have to retreat or fall back and your shield wall may be the only thing that can hold off the Empire."

Ralmir's eyes grew grim, seeing the hidden meaning of Blödhgarm's plan.

"Should it come to that, my warriors and I will hold them for as long as we can. To the last warrior, we will give you as much time as we can steal from their attack. On my honor."

"And on my honor, I swear I shall be right by your side with sword and death," the elf promised.

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><p>Eragon was worried. Saphira was tired and they had but thirty leagues. Not too long ago, Blödhgarm had contacted him through their mind bond, telling him that the battle had begun and was going well. But the Varden soldiers were slightly disheartened from the lack of three of their strongest battle leaders.<p>

_Saphira, you are tired._

_I will make it_, she said stubbornly, and with renewed vigor, she beat her wings harder.

_You are tired._

She growled, _Silence, little one_.

Arya could sense the dragoness' weariness, her own worry starting to gnaw at the back of her mind.

"Saphira, stop here. We can easily run the rest of the distance."

_Yes, and arrive at the battle half dead from your exertion. No, I shall fly as far as I can_, the dragoness replied, no leeway in the tone of her voice.

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><p>Blödhgarm dodged the sword that was going towards his head, using his elbow to most likely break the hand that held the weapon, sending the blade spinning through the air. Using the man's surprise as his cue, he smashed his elven saber hilt deep into the soldier's chest, using his arms' strength to throw the man off the blade, blood running through the channel in the dangerously beautiful weapon.<p>

"Varden!" he roared, cutting down another man as he fought his way to the top of the large hill near the middle of the battlefield. "Varden, rally to me! To me!"

Seeing a single, bloody, beaten, thundering warrior at the top of the hill, killing every enemy that was within sword range, the lone fighter could almost feel the soldiers' strength rejuvenate when they saw him.

A rush of soldiers from the Varden downed a large number of Imperial troops as they battled their way up beside him, a man with an arrow jutting out of his right shoulder giving a tired, weary nod. "Sir!" he shouted, his voice still as powerful as he looked. "Reporting for duty, sir! You called for the Varden?"

Blödhgarm grabbed the arrow, ripping it out as he muttered a few words, the wound vanishing.

The soldier gave a nod of appreciation, gripping the elf's forearm. "I hear the right flank is falling. I say we gather as many men as we can and lead a spearhead into the thick of it. Just like it's supposed to be done, sir."

The elf smiled darkly.

"Varden, rally! To me! All who have the will to see that bastard king smote upon the ruin of his kingdom, to me!"

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><p>Kalyn led his dreamwraiths invisibly through the air, watching for a falter in the enemy's movement to strike.<p>

He saw a small charge of about a score of Varden men slaughter their way through the Empire's soldiers, reinforcing the weakening right flank and buying the deteriorating line time to regroup and reform their ranks.

He waved his arm, sending half of the dreamwraiths to help hold off the Imperials at the right flank, taking the rest down with him in a steep dive, changing to the Kill before he snapped open his wings, feeling them crack against armor as screams rent the air, his brothers and sisters doing the same as literally dozens of soldiers died simply from opening their wings.

Then the real slaughter started.

With a quick slash of his tail, he sent a few soldiers sailing through the air, his talons raking through armor, flesh, and bone without restraint.

One of his talons jabbed into a man's stomach, drawing a long, horrible scream from the soldier's lips. Kalyn quickly ended the man's pain, his teeth ripping through the human's neck.

The kill form was simply what it was.

Death in the visage of an invisible dragon.

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><p>Nasuada ducked as another arrow skimmed past the winged sides of her helmet as she snatched an arrow from the cache beside her, taking aim and expertly shooting at a soldier with unerring accuracy.<p>

Then a resounding roar came from the soldiers, an equally powerful, yet twice as fearsome roar came in return from the skies.

"Dragon Rider!" an archer beside her cried out with joy. "It's Rider Eragon!"

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><p>Ralmir swiftly drew back his bowstring, shooting expertly through the tiny space between the shields, striking another Imperial soldier through the neck, throwing them back.<p>

"It is the Lord Rider!" a dreamwraith shouted jubilantly, a defiant roar shaking the ground as a cheer rose from the Varden soldiers

Losing his captain's composure for just a second, Ralmir let out a sigh of relief.

"Fight!" he yelled. "Send these damn Imperials back to their mothers, dammit!"

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><p>Eragon eyed the battle, somberly taking in the crumbling Varden forces.<p>

Arya gripped his arm.

"Our armor…"

"We will do without," he said quickly, tightening his sword belt and slipping his leather riding gloves more securely over his hands. "Be careful and stay near me."

"I am not..."

"A helpless female. I know, Arya, but for me stay near me. I will feel more assured if I can keep you safer."

She bit her lip.

Aelwyn growled, "Princess, I suggest you take his offer or I'll personally tie you to his back."

The two other of Saphira's passengers looked back at her with a cross of shock and horror on Eragon's adorable, still adolescent face, and slight amusement and discomfort showing in the diplomatic elf's eyes.

"Of course, Eragon."

Saphira threw her last bit of strength into her dive, crushing a good dozen soldiers in her attack, barely landing up right and using her massive wingspan to clear a good area of space around her, letting her three riders leap off.

Instantly, a large number of Imperial soldiers fell, succumbing to pain, sword, or the gauntleted fist of the fierce Hand of Death who struck them down.

Aelwyn swung her fist again, connecting solidly with the helmet of another soldier, following with a lightning-fast strike that snapped the man's neck. She felt the thrill of a thousand bursts of adrenaline rush through her body, making her faster, stronger, letting her ignore the pain she felt from her gauntlets.

Grabbing the wrist of an arm holding a sword, she sent a wave of magic into it, bone and metal shattering as the owner screamed in pain, Brisingr slashing into the head of the soldier in the next second.

Arya had her own scimitar-like blade drawn, a living whirlwind of death as she did her part in helping them.

"My lord!"

Kalyn ran over, blood dripping from his armor and hands.

"Milord, I am most glad to see you," he managed between heavy breaths, literally falling on his knees as he knelt in honor and in his weariness.

Eragon instantly helped the dreamwraith up, "Kalyn, are you alright?"

The winged warrior nodded tiredly.

Then he collapsed.

"Aelwyn, take him to the healers!" Eragon shouted

"No!" she snapped. "I will not leave your side!"

Eragon's death-inviting gaze froze her in place.

She nodded stiffly, sweeping the bloodied dreamwraith in her powerful arms, running off in the general direction of safety.

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><p>The Count of Atherin, Count Elric, stood at the head of the column, watching in awe and horror as the brilliant blue dragoness roared, the very ground shaking with the savage sound that left the fearsome maw of fangs and death.<p>

"Lord Count!" a captain called as he rode back, his armor cut and dented in too many places to count. "Lord Count, we cannot hold them off! The Varden fight like madmen, our warriors are too few!"

He gritted his teeth, grabbing a spear with a standard from the soldier standing beside him.

"Follow me."

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><p>Eragon cut through another swath of Imperial soldiers, marching steadily through their ranks, unwavering, the dreamwraiths beside him as they pierced the lines of enemies with frightening ease.<p>

"Dragon Rider!" a single voice thundered

Those two words were enough to halt the battle in their vicinity as an elegantly-armored man rode through the men, his white stallion snorting, the rider holding a standard spear in his left hand.

"Dragon Rider, slay no more," the man called, quieter this time, seeing the wary ceasefire between the two factions. "This battle is lost."

He slammed the spear into the ground, butt-first, and drawing his sword, cut the banner in half.

"The armies of Atherin surrender."

The Dragon Rider nodded slowly, sheathing his sword after wiping the blood off of the shimmering sapphire blade.

"Let us speak, lord count."

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><p>Eragon was slightly surprised to see a beautiful young woman dressed as finely as the count was armored waiting at the pavilion, bowing to the count, and to him.<p>

The count waved an arm at the seats, "Dragon Rider, your presence alone is a threat. I admire you greatly, sir. Please, do sit, I harbor no ill intentions."

Eragon inclined his head, once to the count, and once to the woman who had scarcely taken her eyes off of him since his entrance. Politely sitting down in the seat the count had offered him, he quickly reached out with his mind, touching Arya and Kalyn's minds, alerting them to keep close watch. He could tell the count truthfully admired him, but his intentions were still suspicious.

"The forces of Atherin shall surrender under the condition that we shall not be harassed or unjustly punished. We shall do as you wish."

Eragon leaned forward.

"Return to Atherin. And do not make me threaten your soldiers' lives again. All of you will leave with your lives and your honor, none of the Varden shall dishonor your valiance or strength. But do answer this one question. Why did you attack Lialath?"

The count hesitated, but then reached into his armor, pulling out a sheet of parchment, handing it over to Eragon.

Eragon took the piece of parchment, his eyes scanning the words written in clear, beautiful calligraphy on the simple leaf of leather.

His eyes widened and then narrowed in an instant.

He leapt to his feet.

"Nasuada, get me Nasuada!" he shouted, sprinting out the door, yelling all the way.

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><p>Translation: <em>Dauthleikr<em> (title) – Mortal

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><p>TN: uh. Not mine?... o.o<p>

LOL yeah, the title isn't mine ^^

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><p>AN: OAIUROWAIRJAWOEWA I have a lot to say.<p>

Thank you to everyone who's faithfully waited so long for this chapter.

I'm really really really really really really sorry I couldn't update for so long, my life has just been way too busy .

This story is not going to be discontinued, even if Inheritance came out, this story will either end or I will hand it off to someone else who will finish it. XD don't worry, I'll most likely finish up this story, I have too much in store ;)

Keep reading. :D

Sorry for the crappy chapter .

**MOST IMPORTANT.****Ok, so most of you probably want to change something I did in the story. From now on, either PM me, or leave a review, and say something you wish would happen, and I will write exactly ONE chapter about that and put it up under the story title "What Could Have Been," so if you want, leave a change, like "I want Sarissa to be alive" or "Eragon falls in love with Calayn" or something like that, and I will try to write one chapter about that subject or topic as fast as I can :) I want to see what you guys want in my story, and I think it'll be fun :D so start reviewing/PMing :D****Not pmsing. XD**

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><p>Fanboy123 – pahaha XD it was a really bad chapter, I'll have to explain more :D thanksss<p>

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><p>Cara Meiffert – thank you so mucho ^^<p>

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><p>Phoenix1592 – the comical relief x3<p>

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><p>Dearth Feanor – keke yupp ^^ thank youuu<p>

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><p>Dr Vladimir – thank youuu :D<p>

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><p>Restrained Freedom – pahaha ikr? X3 thank you so much for supporting me~<p>

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><p>Daxxx – pahaha the baby stabs the ancientking x3 works out beautifully. :D thank youu~<p>

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><p>IronMikeTyson – lawl don't worry brah I'm not stopping a story I worked so hard on XD thanks<p>

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><p>Riptide – well, in a way all Hands of Death are mutually brethren, so in a way yes x3 but yes you'll have to wait for everything else ;)<p>

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><p>THeReeDeR9296 – thank youuuu :D<p>

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><p>Bob – thanks ^^<p>

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><p>(insert name here o.o) – thank you so much :D that means a lot to mee ^^<p>

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><p>Madddogg789 – lol of course not x3<p>

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><p>Fdsa – paha calm down x3 I will~ and I did o.o;;<p>

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><p>Obliterator1519 – lol it's a joke XD<p>

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><p>The Gobbler 123 – heres your chapter bro :D<p>

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><p>IronMikeTyson – lol talk about it…<p>

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><p>Restrained Freedom – no chef. XDDD<p>

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><p>Fanboy123 – not my best story I hurried through it too much… but thanks for your loyalty :D<p>

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><p>Eradon son of awesomeness – you're a good fan x3 thank you~<p>

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><p>The ticking clock - … :D thank you so muchhhh I hope I'll live up to your expectations :)<p>

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><p>Madddogg789 – XD here you go dude :D<p> 


	28. Stydja unin du Sundavya

**Chapter 27 – **_**Stydja unin du Sundavya**_

"_While you sit in your warm house in front of a burning fire saying it's cold, we're out here in the snow, fighting metal on metal for you. While you complain about a certain herb that got in your food, we're eating maggots and leaves and berries that make your stomach crawl. While you complain about your friends and the bad bargains they give, we're losing ours to the sword, the arrow, and to hell. While you complain about your lives not being lively enough, while you talk about how bad your wife is in bed, we die in front of your very doorsteps with a sword in our hand, a thousand enemies pitted against us, not knowing that we had a damn son! Unless you are a soldier, unless you know what it feels like to be one of us, shut your mouth and shove a sword down your throat!"_

_~Lieutenant Caelin of the Lathina Legion to a man slandering the soldiers at a local bar, shortly before the man started a brawl in which the lieutenant knocked the man unconscious, leaving the bar right after_

_Come to Belatona, young Rider. For you have been fooled._

And this was where Eragon found himself, on the back of Snowfire as Saphira streaked ahead of him, Arya, his elven guards, Aelwyn, and a select group of dreamwraiths as they thundered on the backs of horses to reach Belatona. Yet it was as if the air of the very land had grown cold for it was here they were not two-hundred leagues from the city of hell itself, Urû'baen.

Nigh a ten leagues later, he called a halt, knowing the steeds would be too tired, even with their strength and stamina. Saphira offered to go fly around to make sure the area was safe, the others starting a small, quick camp that could be demolished within a minute.

Arya sat against a tree, listening to the late-evening birds, her eyes gazing listlessly out at the rapidly darkening sky.

Calayn and Aelwyn joined her quiet solitude, the three powerful women somehow managing to get along despite their difference, for their care and affection for the Dragon Rider drew them together as one.

"The sun sets as swiftly as my hopes do for saving Belatona," Arya whispered. "I fear for the Varden. Should the city fall, much shall fall with it."

Eragon came back from talking with Saphira, the dragoness lying down by the fire, a large barrier of protection as always.

"We have not much longer to ride," he said softly, sitting beside them.

To their slight surprise, they heard a whistling noise, all turning to the sound to see Kalyn lying against the dragoness, who had taken a fondness to the playful yet powerful dreamwraith, a wing draped over his legs as to keep him warm. He had the hollow reed of a plant in his lips, a flute-like noise drifting from it as he skillfully played a few more notes, the birds growing silent as they stopped their chittering to listen.

It was a song Eragon knew by heart, a song Garrow had taught him many times over, one that Brom had sung to him so long ago.

"When the night falls, prey to the might of the sun, all shall be well, my child, all shall be bright," he sang quietly. "When the darkness is once more defeated by light, all shall rejoice, child, all shall be glad."

Calayn looked at Eragon with gentle, questioning puzzlement.

"_Féa athas'iva ave Alaléla ta'gayn hal maít'in lahan, ta'gayn maít'in, aven kareta anwé uror'ivam, aven anala_," her angelic voice rang, the birds still silent as death.

"To the soft, quiet forests they walk, hearken, hearken as they sing, hearken as they sing," Aelwyn's shockingly gentle voice joined in. "Here come the ones who long for a place they call home, longing for the gentle breeze of night."

Kalyn's last notes drifted away as the birds did not sing as if afraid to break the silence made by the absence of music.

Arya gently walked over to Eragon, kneeling in front of him, her lithe, sinewy hands taking his.

"And I know we shall rejoice in due time, friend," she whispered.

"To the joyful fields of Alagaësia they all come," he murmured, avoiding her eyes, his gaze on their clasped hands. "They come, the weary and the broken, the fearful."

Arya pursed her lips, and to his surprise, drew him to his feet.

"May we speak?... Alone…"

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><p>They noiselessly walked through the tall grass of the plains, the camp a considerable distance behind them, the dim glow from the campfire illuminating where they rested.<p>

"When the war ends… Do you still wish to leave Alagaësia?" she asked so quietly even his enhanced senses could barely pick it up through the gentle swish of the grass.

"My fate has been told by the stars and the bones of dragons. I cannot fight my destiny, though I know not what my fate is. Perhaps I shall die… But life in Alagaësia must go on without me when I leave… So I shall tread as lightly as I can."

"No hero can tread lightly," she said simply as they waded through the waist-high tall grass.

He shrugged.

They didn't speak for a little while, quietly letting the gentle breeze fill in their silence.

"I tire of this land, Eragon… I shall lie not," she whispered. "I tire of war… I tire of death… of seeing humans fight against their own kin… and all for what? Just so a tyrant king can keep his crown? Just so we can dethrone him? Why can the land not become a land where people can trust their neighbors? Had they trusted each other, none of this would have begun…"

He gave yet another small shrug. "Trust does not come easily to this world. Yet I know all things that happen have a reason. I do not question what happens… Not usually. But I accept it as all people should."

He held out his hand, a small night bird, feathers the color of the moon lighting atop his finger, chirping softly at him, a small smile appearing on his lips.

"Like this bird… I trust easily… But unlike the young child who holds the bird, not all prove worthy of that trust."

He looked over at her.

"I trust fate not. Yet there are a few people I trust in this world. Not many, yet they exist."

The bird warbled at him, happily flapping its wings a little, looking up at the Rider whose finger it was using as a perch.

"_Sé mor'ranr ono eya finna_," he whispered, the small animal chirping one last time up at the human-elf before taking to the air.

He felt a velvet-skinned hand rest on his arm.

"_Ach tua ono eka?_" she asked gently.

The Rider hesitated.

"_Savara._"

Then to his surprise, she gently pulled him into her arms, her head resting on his shoulder beside his, cheek to cheek, her fluttering breathing music to his ears.

"_Eka tua ono, fricai abr iet hjarta_."

The two stayed like that, her arms around his waist, his around her shoulders, heads resting beside each other, standing in a storm of winds of change, beneath the shade of war and death, waiting for a light to shine through.

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><p>Translation: <em>Stydja unin du Sundavya <em>(title) – Stay in the Shadows

_Féa athas'iva ave Alaléla ta'gayn hal maít'in lahan, ta'gayn maít'in, aven kareta anwé uror'ivam, aven anala _(tongue of the dreamwraiths) – To the joyful fields of Alagaësia they all come, they come, the weary and the broken, the fearful (literally: _Fields joyful of Alagaësia come to they all, come they, the weary and broken, the fearful)_

_Sé mor'ranr ono eya finna_ – May you forever find peace

_Ach tua ono eka? – _Do you trust me?

_Savara_ – Yes

_Eka tua ono, fricai abr iet hjarta – _I trust you, friend of my heart

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><p>TN: Most of the stuff in this chapter are mine… <em>Eya<em>,_ tua, _and everything dealing with the dreamwraiths belong to me, but the title's Paolini's :3

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><p>AN: First of all, I'm sorry this chapter's really short, it's more like a filler chapter to show kind of how much Eragon's changed I guess? And yes I've been quiet for a long, long, long time, and I apologize. I swear I'm doing my best, and I'm not having a writer's block, it's more like… I don't know how to put down my inspiration on paper.<p>

Or the keyboard.

Anyways yeah… lolol I promise I'll do my best to update faster from now on~ ^^

Thank you to everyone who is faithfully reading still~ please review and give feedback, i'm doing this to improve and to see what other people think of my writing xD

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><p>Thegayperson – I'll be working on that asap~<p>

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><p>Phoenix1592 – mmm, not too important, just urgent xD<p>

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><p>Eragon5443 – yup~ lol thank you<p>

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><p>Darth Feanor – I actually did take the time to read Inheritance, and though I did enjoy certain parts, such as the Dauthdaertya, which I actually really liked.. but it seemed far too cliché and whatever.. lol but it was a pretty decent ending, even though I expected it to be a lot more mushy… I'm probably going to end my story like that xD<p>

But thank you~ :)

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><p>IronMikeTyson – thanks bro, she's made to be blunt xD so fun to write with her<p>

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><p>Cara – will doo, thanks :D<p>

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><p>Restrained Freedom – I'm not really thinking the note will be as important as what will happen at Belatona… but thank you~^^<p>

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><p>Jits – sorry to disappoint Dx I can't help being slow sometimes… loll<p>

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><p>Eradon son of awesomeness – you spelled it right xDD thank youuu<p>

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><p>Sir NickolasJhonstonMarcus III – thank you very much, I appreciate the compliments :) and I'd be glad to have a beta but I doubt I'd be able to do much for a long time…<p>

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><p>Madddogg789 – I'll do my best xD<p>

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><p>Nicky333 – well, a month did pass between this story and Brisingr, but I'll try to add in a few flashbacks and try to come up with legitimate reasons for him to change :) thanks for telling me and thank you~<p>

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><p>Dirt Rider 712 – everything in their due time, friend, everything in due time~ sorry I couldn't make it up to you lol.. but it makes sense, Cadian magic and Alagaësian magic don't mix well, and Eragon doesn't know that, but the Hand does, that's why she can beat him so easily<p>

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><p>Inheritancefanatic – thank you~<p>

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><p>Eragon – not gonna stop so don't worry xD<p> 


	29. Nuanen Andlát

**Chapter 28 – _Nuanen_** **_A__ndlát_**

"_Great love is capable of great hatred, great hatred capable of great love. From the greatest darkness can come the greatest light, from the greatest of enemies can come the greatest of lovers. Anything is possible, pupil mine, anything can happen."_

_~Oromis, _Togira Ikonoka_, _Osthato Chetowä_, the Cripple Who is Whole, the Mourning Sage, last of the first order of Dragon Riders_

Roran smashed his hammer into the helmet of an Imperial soldier, throwing him off the siege ladder, the man's dying screams ended abruptly by the impact, impaled on the spear of an Imperial beneath them.

"Stronghammer, there are too many!" Captain Linden called out. Surprisingly, despite his loyalty to his former commanding officer, he had chosen to faithfully follow Roran, saying a man willing to take fifty lashes for the Varden was a man worth following to the death.

"Fall back!" he roared back, kicking a ladder, toppling it over. "Draw back to the towers, use the archers and spears!"

Linden began drawing his men back, the few elven spellweavers they had at Belatona providing cover in the form of dozens of different spells that battered at the enemies as they tried to take advantage of the tactical retreat.

A silver-fletched arrow whizzed past his ear, striking solidly behind him, causing him to spin around, seeing an opposing soldier with a barbed shaft stuck straight through the slit of the visor. He nodded gratefully as the elf who had shot the arrow ran over to him, pushing him towards the nearest rampart tower.

"Stronghammer, lose focus not!" the elf shouted, whispering a few words after, a burst of flame from his hands searing a pathway for them.

"Many thanks, elf-friend!" he yelled over the screams of pain from the fire, the two running side by side, the elf throwing his bow around his back, drawing his twin scimitar-like swords, slashing through the enemies who lived, Roran using his hammer to bash through all who got in his way.

They charged through the open door, the soldiers already inside pouring a volley of arrows through the entrance to discourage any followers.

"To the roof!" Roran ordered, running up the stairs as the soldiers automatically followed, a good half of them staying down to guard the entrance.

The elf drew his bow once more, starting to arch at the most seemingly dangerous foes, taking them down with practiced ease.

"There are no more of our men around us!" Roran called down. "Bar the doors! Put anything we can't use in front of it, no one gets in, _no one gets in_!"

A loud series of clangs and grunts followed as the soldiers overturned the few tables there were, taking broken spears and axes and using them to bar the door, setting the tables in the most supporting position.

The elf grabbed Roran, jerking him out of the way as another arrow shot past, nearly impaling his ear.

"There are many of them, Stronghammer," the elf said, pointing out. "Five battle groups, just on the east wall. The smoke obscures even my vision to the other walls."

They ducked as another series of arrows thudded into the wooden door beside them.

"Get down, get downstairs!" Roran snapped at the soldiers as he and the elf snuck to the other side of the tower.

"Night falls soon," the elf whispered. "Should the towers have ropes we may hope to surprise them in the darkness of dusk. I know of the caves beneath the wall, we shall go hide there soon when the sun sets, we cannot stay here for long."

"Our little amount men cannot defeat five battle groups," Roran muttered, trying to think of a battle plan.

"I can get a message across to the other survivors, sir, I have magic, do I not?" the elf smirked.

"If you could, then tell them at dusk we shall strike. We cannot wait for Feinstar or Surda to come to our aid."

"What of the women and children? The inner defenses will not be strong enough to hold for long," the elf said in all honesty.

His heart sank at the thought of Katrina in danger.

"They will be strong. They will have to be."

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><p>Lieutenant Elric leapt up as did all the soldiers with him as a wind rustled through the tower.<p>

There were no windows.

Something was stirring.

The dust on the floor swirled, a ghost-like figure soon appearing.

The soldiers warily backed away.

It raised a hand.

_Peace, soldiers. I am Lifaen, the elven spellweaver who sits besides Commander Stronghammer hidden in the caves under the east wall. All soldiers will receive the same order from the commander. At dusk, we will strike back at the Empire. We shall rally in the darkness under the ramparts. Use no lights. This attack lies upon the element of surprise._ _Until then, brothers, _mor'ranr waíse ono.

The mirage vanished, the dust settling to the ground once more.

All the soldiers looked to him.

He grimly grabbed a spear, tossing one to a soldier.

"Arm up," he ordered.

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><p>Eragon rode Snowfire across the dark fields, the late sun setting swiftly as he and his small group of spellweavers and warriors galloped towards Belatona. Already he could see smoke, probably from the city.<p>

Or what was left of it.

_The city's walls stands, as does the gates. The strength of the spells seems not dampened. The defenses must have held, I see none of the Varden though, save those on the inner defenses._

_What of the Empire?_

_They have besieged the inner walls, I can see dozens of ladders… They have not gotten through the inner defenses though._

_Fly high, stay in the clouds until I call._

_Of course, little one._

She tilted her wings slightly, shooting up, gaining altitude rapidly.

"Ride!" he shouted. "Ride hard, ride swiftly!"

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><p>Roran waited in the shadows under the ramparts, his armor covered with ash and soot, his men the same as he was. Already, another two groups had come, hiding as the Imperial soldiers walked around freely in the setting sun, laughing and talking.<p>

Just a few more hours.

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><p>Eragon whispered some quiet words into Snowfire's ear, patting the horse's neck as he slipped off the great stallion.<p>

Arya came up beside him, eyeing the eerily silent city, smoke still coming out in thin wisps from some houses and towers.

"What is your plan?" she asked softly, a hand gently brushing his in reassurance.

"We need to learn of what the situation is," he murmured. "Saphira says the inner defenses have not fallen yet. If the soldiers are still alive, then we may be able to take back the city."

"We _will_ take back the city, _iet fricai_," she promised.

He nodded, breaking into a swift run towards the city.

_Dusk, we will slip into the city._

* * *

><p>Dinus sat against a wall, his companions lazily drinking some beer from the storage and laughing at some vulgar joke Lionel made.<p>

He blinked as he felt a strange chill run down his spine.

He straightened as his friends stopped, looking over at him with confusion.

"Brother, what is amiss?" Aiden asked.

"The hairs on the back of my neck stand," he muttered. "I know not what is amiss."

Then he felt a painless slicing sensation and felt nothing more.

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><p>Eragon snapped the neck of the last guard, putting out the campfire with a quick spell. Arya cleaned her blade on the grass, sheathing it before dragging the soldiers out of sight.<p>

"Move swiftly," she whispered.

"Brother!" a voice hissed.

Eragon spun, seeing a man in familiar armor and with a very familiar face motioning from under the darkness of the ramparts.

"Roran!"

The two cousins quickly embraced, Eragon dragging them back into the darkness as his small group of warriors followed them, finding the small army waiting there.

"You got through the battle with this many survivors? Quite a feat, cousin," Eragon smiled. "I am glad to see you alive."

"As I am to see you, _Shur'tugal_, _Dröttningu_," a vaguely familiar voice said.

Eragon stared at the elf, finally matching the voice and face with a name.

"Lifaen, I am very grateful to see you," the Rider said softly, bowing slightly.

"_Atra esterní ono thelduin_," Lifaen replied, bowing with regal elegance.

"_Mor'ranr lífa unin hjarta onr_," Eragon said.

"_Un du evarínya ono varda._ We are most glad for your arrival, _Shur'tugal_, I doubt we would have gotten far in our retaliation even with Stronghammer in the lead."

"I have brought my spellweavers, Arya, Aelwyn, a number of dreamwraiths, and Saphira flies in the air above us," Eragon whispered. "We shall take back the city. Have you been able to find the central point of their army?"

Lifaen nodded as Roran got on his knee, drawing with an iron-clad finger in the ground. He swiftly traced a square outline, with a circle inside.

"We're about here," he said, making a dot near one of the sides of the square. "They're centered around here, about five-hundred paces from the keep's ramparts."

"If we can land Saphira and the dreamwraiths there, we can easily distract them and our spellweavers will be able to back your soldiers as they attack," Eragon said. "Blödhgarm, I want you and all the other elves to throw your efforts into protecting the soldiers, we can deal with the enemy when it comes to hacking and killing."

"As you will, milord," Blödhgarm said, a fist touching his chest as he bowed quickly.

Eragon nodded grimly, tapping a finger at the spot where Roran had said the soldiers were centered.

"One fatal, swift blow. We will cut the head from the shoulders and the body shall fall," he said softly.

* * *

><p>Saphira and the dreamwraiths streaked out of the moonless night, Arya's quick use of her magic mastery conjuring a good number of storm clouds to cloak the night in utter darkness. And the great beasts used this to their great advantage.<p>

The dreamwraiths snapped open their wings, tilting them slightly, the grooves in their wings' skeletal frame making an eerie shrieking noise.

The night was then filled with the screams of dying men.

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><p>Eragon started drawing circles in the air, letting his Cadian magic flow through his body.<p>

"_Rosaní._"

Light flared from a hundred tiny glowing orbs as they spread through the city, lighting the darkness for the Varden survivors to attack.

"Slaughter them all, should they surrender, do not harm a hair on their head," Eragon ordered.

With a fierce cry of vengeance, the Varden fell on the chaos-ridden camp.

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><p>It wasn't much of a fight. The soldiers hadn't been expecting such a sudden retaliation, and not half as many people. The Varden survivors had hidden well, scattered, yet waiting for a moment to band together again. And in a city as large as Belatona, it was easy to find places to hide and avoid detection.<p>

The prisoners were herded in the center of camp, the victorious Varden guarding them.

Calayn padded over, still in the kill, her claws bloodied, her frighteningly dangerous looking head, elegant, beautiful, yet hellish and death-marked, gazing at the prisoners with disdain.

_Let me kill them all._

Eragon shook his head.

"Lord Rider!" Blödhgarm roared.

He spun around to see a lone rider charging at them, a strange spear in the armored man's hand.

The shaft was gold, but both ends had blades made of an amethyst-colored crystal, graceful, clearly the work of elven crafters. Both blades were identical, around three hands long, a vine-like trail of silver encrusting the staff, a leather grip set in three different places. Strangest of all, a violet aura shimmered around the spear, pulsating and glowing and dimming.

Smoke trailed out from the kinks in the armor and visor.

"_Shur'tugallll_," it whispered. "_We meet at lastttt…_"

Eragon drew Brisingr, approaching the figure.

"So we have. Who are you, stranger? And are you for me or against me."

"_Not against youuu…_" it drawled. "_Against your dragonessssss… And that creature that stands beside youuuu…_"

Calayn growled, her hind legs crouching as she prepared to pounce.

_I shall rip his nonexistent head from his shoulders_, she said, snapping her jaws at the newcomer.

_Do not… There is dark magic I feel around it… It is no he… I know not what it is_, Eragon replied.

_It matters not, all fall to my claws_, she roared, leaping at the stranger.

The spear flickered, and Calayn shrieked in pain, the unearthly sound shattering the air as the powerful dreamwraith fell to the ground, a huge gash running from her left shoulder to her belly, blood pouring from the wound, her wing nearly severed from her body.

"_Die, abominationnn_," the thing said in its eerie voice the shadowy horse taking ominous steps towards the downed dreamwraith who vainly tried to rake her talons at the creature.

"_Waíse sköliro_!" Eragon snapped, the spear reflecting off the barrier he had created as he charged at the shadow warrior.

It turned just to see Eragon crash into its midsection, driving it off the horse.

An iron grip went around his neck, lifting him up by his collar as the being stood up.

"_You are a foollll, Shur'tugallll…_"

"_Layalas_," the Dragon Rider managed out.

The thing instantly dropped him.

"_Impossible… No…_"

Flames burst from inside the armor, swiftly consuming the thing. The horse neighed and whinnied, also turning aflame with its rider.

It swung the spear, Eragon deftly dodging most the blow, wincing as it cut his cheek, leaving a line of blood across his face.

It was a strange style of fighting, somewhat comparable to Angela's style with her double-sided staff, but much more deadly. Eragon leapt out of the way of the next swipe from the spin of the staff, using Brisingr to block the following blow. The strength of the slash threw him off balance, but just as he saw the spear flashing down at him, he saw it bounce off an invisible shield. Arya charged in, chanting in Elvish the whole time.

The flames went out, much to both their surprise, for she had been conjuring a burst of oxygen and more flame to destroy the being.

_Eragon, use Cadian magic!_ Saphira roared, warily circling the being as it eyed its combatants with a face of smoke.

"_You are all foolsssss… The dragons… the dreamwraiths… the Ra'zac, lethrblaka… they all must die…_" it hissed.

"_Layalas, mara lia._"

The shell of smelted armor blew apart with flames, the horse vanishing in a cloud of smoke and fire.

The spear was all that was left.

"Blödhgarm, heal Calayn!" Eragon ordered, the elf immediately running to the dreamwraith, already in the process of conjuring healing spells.

Eragon gingerly picked up the spear, nearly dropping it as it sent a strange tingle through his body. Feeling no ill effects, he picked it up again, ignoring the strange sensation that coursed through his body.

Arya bit her lip in a way he knew meant she was thinking.

"Stars and spirits above," she whispered as her eyes widened with recognition.

Eragon looked up at her.

"What is it?" he asked quietly.

"That is no ordinary spear you hold, Eragon," she said hoarsely.

She gently put a hand on it.

"'Tis a Dauthdaert, one of the twelve… This one is Niernen. I recognize its description… The Orchid Spear, named after one of the twelve most beautiful flowers that bloom in Ellesmera. It was made eons before my birth… During the war between the elves and the dragons…"

Eragon felt a lot less safe touching the ancient spear.

"It had a purpose… I can feel it… Its whisperings…"

She nodded slowly.

"To kill all dragons and anything of their kin."

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><p>Translation: <em>Nuanen Andlát<em> (title) – Beautiful Death

_Mor'ranr waíse ono – _Peace with you

_Shur'tugal – _Dragon Rider

_Dröttningu – _Princess

_Atra esterní ono thelduin. Mor'ranr lífa unin hjarta onr. Un du evarínya ono varda - _May good fortune rule over you. Peace live in your heart. And the stars watch over you

_Rosaní – _Alight, illuminate

_Layalas – _Flame/be aflame

_Layalas, mara lia – _Flame, kill it

Niernen (name of Dauthdaert) – Orchid

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><p>TN: Everything after the greeting is mine~ except Niernen…<p>

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><p>AN: YES, the Dauthdaert will be in my story~ except all twelve will be because I just love the idea of the dragons having a weakness… they need a weakness… And the Dauthdaertya are an amazing idea… loll I'll give Paolini credit for this idea, it's actually quite smart… You'll see the other Dauthdaertya appearing soon, but I have changed them… it makes no sense for an orchid spear to be green.. it should be violet like the orchid flower =.=;; lol so yeah… the spears will be colored and have the aura of the color of the flower they're designed after :3 because it makes more sense like that. -.-;;<p>

This is the second part of the chapter xD I didn't feel like writing but then I got so much inspiration I just had to write it all down… Dx lol but I hope you guys liked it? keep reviewing pleasee~

and thank you to Dessert Maniac for correcting my mistakes xD


	30. Burthr abr Brisingr

**Chapter 29 – **_**Burthr abr Brisingr**_

"_Fire is life and death. It kills the old and makes space for the new. It is a cycle of nature that shall not be denied."_

_~Unknown_

Murtagh gazed at the sky, looking without looking, his mind a thousand leagues away, his freedom twice as far, yet so close at the same time.

Thorn butted him gently with his crimson snout.

_Brother, there will be a day we shall be free._

Murtagh gently twiddled with a blade of grass, letting it blow out of his hand as the gentle breeze took it away.

He eyed the dead log lying not ten paces from them, whispering a few words.

A small flame started in the far end of the log, slowly eating away at the rotting wood.

_So the fire is born_, he replied. _So the fire burns._

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><p>"When the war between the elves and the dragons began, the elves were at a huge disadvantage," Arya murmured quietly. "They could breathe fire. They were enormous. They could fly, crush us beneath their feet, their very roar could turn many elven warriors tail. A decently-sized thunder of dragons could reduce the greatest of elven armies to ash. So the <em>Dauthdaertya<em> were created. Twelve spears, the Orchid, Rose, Tulip, Night's Beauty, Iris, Sakura, Lily, Starflower, Lotus, Saffron, the Bird of Paradise, and Bleeding Hearts. Each one is enchanted with eternal runes and spells that will never die off. Dragon magic and dragon fire cannot harm the wielder of any of the spears, and the spells also provide a first layer of defense against spells cast by anyone else."

"Except Cadian magic," Eragon added.

"Except Cadian magic," Arya nodded. "The elven forgers knew not of the Cadians' existence. Hence they could not include Cadians in the spells and runes."

She indicated the spear that rested against the wall.

"Niernen was the first of the twelve, and is designed for slashing attacks. See the thinness of the blades and the two-dimensional build? The wielder… I know not what it was. I could feel darkness rolling off of its very soul… like waves of dark magic…"

The Dragon Rider gave a small tilt of his head in agreement.

Arya hesitated.

He looked up at her, surprised at her pause. She was never one to be unsure of nearly anything that came up in her path.

"Something makes you hesitate, Arya?" he asked.

She shook her head slowly.

"How did you change so quickly?" she whispered. "Nigh a year ago you were a young farm boy who knew next to nothing of war… Now you are a hardened warrior, a veteran of many battles… You attack an unknown being with confidence you will defeat it… Your wisdom surpasses that of many of the elders… And yet I missed the changing of your mind and heart…"

He pursed his lips.

"May I?" he requested.

She nodded, letting his fingers brush her temple.

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><p><em>Eragon gently touched the diamond grave, blinking back tears.<em>

"_Father… I came to tell you I hope I have become a man worthy of your name… I have many faults, flaws and shatter points I cannot risk having… but I know you understand me, father. And I thank you for being there for me."_

_He knelt by Brom's entombed body, bowing his head._

_Finally, tiny droplets of the purest liquid in the universe fell atop the priceless gem that protected the man who had taken him, pretended to be his father, and had ended up being just that._

"_I love you, father," he whispered._

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><p>"<em>You know the truth, Eragon Bromsson."<em>

"_I know not, milord…" Eragon protested weakly._

_The handsome, regal man knelt by him._

"_Sarissa was not meant to be yours forever. There are others. Let her go… She is too scarred for this world. Grant her one last gift out of love, let her go into the realm of eternal joy and happiness… Even you cannot grant her eternity in paradise."_

"_I can try!"_

"_You will fail!" the man roared._

_The other being bit his lip and softened his voice._

"_My child… You know I speak the truth. Let her go…"_

* * *

><p><em>Emotions. So many emotions. Love, hatred, anger, acceptance, regret, sadness, joy, fear, courage… They all swirled together in his mind, his warm lips pressing against Sarissa's, her fingers laced through his.<em>

I love you, Eragon, by the stars I love you so much…

_He nearly choked on his tears._

I love you, Sarissa. You are forgiven.

_Tears poured down his cheeks as he felt her mind fade into nothingness._

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><p><em>His heart tried to leap in joy but the ice around it was too heavy. Arya's arms gently encircled him, but the usual warmth and joy they brought, the closure they had always provided to him was gone. He could feel no joy. He could feel no warmth. The core of his warmth had died away.<em>

_Min elsa_, why so sad?_ a soft voice asked, familiar and lilting, gorgeous in every aspect._

Sarissa?

None else, my love_, the gentle conscience assured._

By the stars… Sarissa…

_He could feel her presence smiling, setting an imaginary finger upon his lips._

Hush, my sweet lover. There are no words needed here when I feel all your thoughts and you hear all mine.

_And there was no need. Just the comfort of her presence and the love emanating from it. Slowly, bit by bit, she faded away without a word of farewell. But that was alright._

_No words were needed._

* * *

><p>Arya found herself back within her mind a few moments later, finding her fingers curled around his, unable to speak, though wishing she could say something.<p>

"Eragon…"

She was surprised when she found a gentle finger halt her lips.

"Change comes to all things, Arya, and should it be fought, it will burn its way through everything that stands in its path. I did not find change. And it has made me stronger than I had been."

"Do you not miss your old self?..." she asked softly.

He pursed his lips.

"Perhaps. But my old self did not have but a dream of defeating Galbatorix. The me I am now has a small chance, no matter how unlikely that chance is. If changing and missing and regretting is what it takes to save thousands of lives, then 'tis worth it. Ten hells I have gone through, and ten score I would go through if to bring this Empire down upon his black head. If my life ever had purpose, 'tis this and this only."

Arya took his face between her hands and tilted it up so she could look him in the eyes, feeling the strange twinge in her stomach and heart that always came when she saw his mix-matched eyes.

She saw nothing but passion.

Something his eyes had lacked since his return from Teirm had been rekindled. The bright flame that had always burned in his soul, the thing she had loved and admired and looked to for hope and comfort had been doused by his lover's death. But something had relit the fire and the sparks in his eyes could be no lie.

"The birth of fire," she whispered.

His eyes snapped to hers in slight surprise, hints of confusion and shock appearing in those expressive eyes of his that made women swoon.

Her thumbs gently traced the scars on his face, running down his cheek and jaws, her heart pounding though she didn't know why.

"The fire that was trampled has been renewed… The passion that had died has been resurrected…"

His eyes were like two glowing orbs of warmth and strength, inviting, so sweet and calm and blissful.

"Do you speak for me or yourself?" he murmured.

She hesitated.

"I know not what you speak of," she replied swiftly.

She stood up to walk away, only to find his powerful arms encircling her, turning her around, his head now but a breath away.

"Arya, I swore not to do what I am about to do… But I am no longer the same man I was before… And neither are you the same being I used to know… Forgive me while I try to explain what I speak of."

And he simply leaned down and kissed her.

* * *

><p>Translation: <em>Burthr abr Brisingr <em>(title) – Birth of Fire

_Min elsa_ (Cadian) – My love

* * *

><p>TN: Only the Cadian is mine this time ^^<p>

* * *

><p>AN: OK BEFORE EVERYONE FREAKS<p>

This is not anywhere near the end at least I don't think so… I still feel like I only got halfway through… so no, this kiss will.. prove to mean a lot yet at the same time will not be as major as half of you probably expect.

Anyways, other than that, about the _Dauthdaertya_, they will be appearing little by little in this story, I doubt I'll bring all twelve in this story, but who knows, I know I'll bring at least one or two more, and I'm kind of disappointed that Paolini didn't do the same… and I'm also kind of sad that he forgot about Bladesinger and her friend…. Anyways, expect an appearance from them soon enough and I told you this was going to be romance and you got your ExA romance, so be happy for now, but I can promise you now that I will be tearing them apart again sorry ExA fans… loll I just have to ruin this moment for you don't i… Dx

And I promise my next chapter will be longer I just wanted to show why Eragon changed so much… you know? I mean, the poor kid's just been through so much and there's no way he couldn't have changed… so yeah, this chapter was kind of a filler but also a big part of what I'm trying to get across to all my readers with this story ^^

Phoenix1592 – I know right? it bugged me so much but its FF I can do whatever xD keke

Cara – thank you ^^;;

Dessert Maniac – thank you~ I kinda find it confusing at times because my readers wouldn't know what the heck is going on but I try to make it obvious in the context what they said, and if they don't know what's going on, I try to make it so they don't need to xD and thank you so much for that point out I fixed everything~

Restrained Freedom – I'm not all that sure myself o.o;; I'll have to come up with something xD and yes it isss

And I know its just that I've been trying to focus on Eragon and Arya's growing friendship and trust and whatnot Dx, but I will try to add in more scenes for them as soon as I can!~ thank youu~

Darth Feanor – thank you :)

Fanboy123 – aelwyn's here and there, you know how she is xD glad to know that someone likes my oc's ^^ I'll add her in more soon~

Eragon5443 – lol its alright ^^;; people have been less and less remembering of this story but its cause I haven't really had the time to update it but I hope ppl keep reading

Madddogg789 – lol sorry Dx


	31. Kibriakun

**Chapter 30**_** - Kibriakun**_

"_Men were born to die. But that does not mean we should throw away the time we have in between birth and death."_

_ ~Eragon Shadeslayer, Bromsson, last Free Dragon Rider, Heir Lord of Vroengard_

Her lips were soft and warm, stiff and surprised. And then to his surprise, she reacted.

Lithe, gentle arms tentatively lighted around his neck and shoulders, hesitating and unsure. Time faded and became a distant term he no longer knew, reality itself became fantasy and it was as if the spirits had put them in a bubble of protection, if only for a few blissful moments. It was not an enflamed kiss, not one of lust and want and passion, but one that was beautifully shaky and doubtful, innocent and afraid, like a young child given a sword and a shield.

Time eddied and swirled, and in a few more moments, he found himself in the gardens of Belatona, Arya looking up at him, her gorgeous, insecure emerald eyes he found so enrapturing gazing into his. Her eyes the symbol of his greatest strength, his own eyes the symbol and proof of his greatest weakness.

Love and love.

"I am afraid, Eragon," she whispered.

And that itself was a frightening thought. To see one who had never been anything but strong and brave and fearless admit fear was unsettling.

"Of what, princess?" he breathed.

When a being said "princess," it was in honor and respect and fear of her position, but the way he said it somehow felt like he was calling her _his_ princess. It was touching…

"Of you… Of what you do to me…"

His eyes no longer were the frightening gaze of justice and unrelenting power as he captured her eyes and kept them in his sight. Warmth. Gentle surrender to her. Heart-breaking innocence flickered in his irises, no longer the harshness of a broken man, the cold silver-gold flames.

"And what do I do to you, Arya?"

She broke their gaze, looking down at his broad chest, unwilling to meet his eyes when he knew her well enough to see right through them and through her walls and into her soul. She didn't want him to see her soul.

"You make me weak… You make me think of things other than duty… I looked in Angela's mirror… the one that shows one their greatest weakness, strength, regret, and the thing they treasure most… Yet all I saw was you… Somehow… without even me knowing of it… You have become everything to me…"

She helplessly closed her eyes in simple comfort as his lips brushed her cheek.

"You made me who I am, Arya… And I knew it all along that it was you who had shaped my existence… Forgive me for being so brash with my actions… I hope they are forgivable sins…"

She put a finger over his lips.

"No… Forgive me for hurting you. I deserve you not."

"Yet I deserve you not, so perhaps fate shall be kind to us seeing we are but equals," he said softly, smiling slightly.

She almost smiled.

Then she let go of her fear and let herself completely enjoy the comfort of his embrace for the first time.

* * *

><p>Night came with the cool breeze of the darkness overcoming the light for but another moon. Eragon gently left his bed, careful not to wake Arya who had managed to stealthily escape her room and come to his. Quickly kissing her forehead, he climbed out the window, easily scaling the tower given to him to rest in, swinging his legs atop the ramparts at the peak of the watchtower.<p>

He took a deep breath of the night air that always gave him so much closure, feeling the coolness spread throughout his body, not the piercing cold of ice, but a breath of fresh air that cleared his mind and lungs.

"You will take care of her, Shadeslayer?"

He didn't turn as the familiar voice asked, another being leaping up the rampart beside him, taking his place by the Rider, sitting on one of the stone blocks.

"I fear I will not be able to in a world like this."

Blödhgarm gently tapped his finger against the rocks, the claw-like nails clacking against the hard substance.

"I once felt the same as you did, Shadeslayer."

Eragon glanced at his guard who had quickly become his friend.

"You speak as though you loved one. With your many years, I suppose it would be impossible not to have, no?"

The wolf-elf chuckled mirthlessly.

"You know this woman, Shadeslayer. I believe you have met her before, and I know her fate is bound to cross paths with yours many times."

He looked at his friend curiously.

"You know her as Bladesinger."

Silence.

"I did meet her once," Eragon said slowly, unsure what to say.

The elf shrugged.

"She is Elfkind, powerful, wise, independent, beautiful, understanding… But fate did not mean for us to be together. Who am I to stand in fate's way?"

"Who are you not, friend?"

Blödhgarm didn't respond for a little while.

"Fate does not appreciate the ones who have the gall to stand up against her. I wish to warn you, Shadeslayer. I learned that lesson in a cruel trick of destiny. I do not wish for you to have to go through the same."

Eragon touched the elf's shoulder, "Should you wish to speak of it, I would not mind hearing of your story, Blödhgarm."

The wolf-elf gave a grim smile.

"Perhaps if we both survive the coming storm, we will have time to fix what the storms of the past have destroyed. Until the morrow, Shadeslayer."

With that, he leapt off the rampart, vanishing into the night to leave Eragon to ponder the elf's warning.

He bit his lip.

Standing up, he walked down to the tower.

It was time to give fate her chance at showing him what she wished.

* * *

><p>Arya woke to find Eragon sitting beside her, already dressed and in full regalia, his gauntlets clicking softly as he clenched and unclenched his hands. Brisingr was strapped to his hip, knives and daggers strapped to nearly every limb. The katana-like sword from Sarissa was on his back, another shorter longsword on his opposite hip. A band around his thigh sheathed half a dozen throwing knives, daggers slipped into his travel boots. A quiver hung beside his small sword, the bow strapped aside the katana. He had enough weaponry to equip an army if he needed to. Deadly and gorgeous. He seemed like the epitome of a war god, powerful, destructive, deadly, yet always just and fair if harsh.<p>

"I need to leave," he said quietly. "There is a place for me to go to."

She reached out with a hand, his meeting hers halfway, his metal-covered fingers taking hers with heartwarming tenderness.

"When will you be back?" she whispered.

"When I can," he promised. "I have something to come back to now."

She smiled.

"As do I," she murmured, pulling him closer for a kiss.

* * *

><p>Blödhgarm watched with Saphira as Starwind galloped away, Eragon atop the magnificent elven stallion.<p>

_I worry for him._

The elf gently stroked the dragoness' neck scales, "As do I, friend. But if he wishes to stand against fate, he must learn to stand up against himself first."

He gave a small smile.

"And he will not be alone on his journey."

* * *

><p><em>A few days later…<em>

* * *

><p>Eragon sat in a bar, quietly drinking the clean water, watching from the corner of the room as the others around him, some drunk, some sober—more on the drunk end of things—laughed raucously.<p>

The door smashed open as a group of Imperial soldiers walked in.

"We're looking for a Varden spy," the lead soldier snapped. "Cloaked, gold-brown hair, tall, armed. Have any of you seen him?"

No response.

Eragon stood up.

"I do, I will show you where he is."

The man nodded, "Thank you."

They walked out of the tavern, walking through the streets as late-night pedestrians quickly moved out of their way. Turning into an alley, Eragon indicated a random door. The soldiers walked past him.

The first soldier fell, his head hitting the ground before the rest of his body struck.

The other soldiers spun around, drawing their weapons instinctively out of training just as Brisingr impaled itself in the chest of another man. Ripping two throwing daggers out from his thigh sheaths, he spun them around, letting go of them as they sailed through the air, digging into the skin of a soldier's neck. Leaving Brisingr in the dead man's chest, he drew his Lord Master's katana, smashing his foot into a recovering soldier, using the imbalance to slam his blade into the forehead of the man. Ducking under a wild swipe from the last man, he used that to draw a knife out from his boot, bringing it up into the last soldier's chin, the dead man dropping at his feet. Cleaning his blades and sheathing all of them once again, he walked out of the alleyway, running to the stables.

He couldn't stay here any longer.

* * *

><p>They burst out of the city gates, Starwind galloping away from Livia. The elven stallion broke into a breakneck pace as a group of soldiers stormed after them, Eragon swiftly stringing his bow. Notching a silver-fletched arrow to the string, he comfortably shot a rider off his horse, drawing another arrow from his quiver.<p>

Then he saw another rider coming up behind the soldiers.

The horse charged into the small cavalcade, twin swords spinning in beautiful sync, easily killing half the group as Eragon took their surprise and hesitance to his advantage, turning Starwind around. He and the stranger easily took out their opponents, Eragon indicating another group of foot soldiers running at them as they dismounted, charging at the enemies, somehow instantly falling into perfect tandem. He and his mysterious ally reacted to each other's moves, flowing in and out of reach of each other. When he struck, his companion would protect his exposed flank, moving to take the offensive next while he would protect the being from an attack from the blind side.

As the last man fell down, Eragon cleaned Brisingr on the cape of the captain that had been chasing him, nodding his thanks to the sword wielder.

"My thanks, kind stranger," he said, sheathing his blade.

"Interesting that our paths should cross again," a wry, female voice chuckled, the figure pushing back her hood.

Eragon inclined his head.

"So they do," he smiled slightly. "It is good to see you once again, Bladesinger."

* * *

><p>The two warriors sat beside each other around the fire, Eragon giving her a sharpened stick with a piece of the rabbit he had caught.<p>

"What brings you around, friend?" he asked, leaning back against a tree, the woman smiling a tiny bit.

"I was about to ask you the same question," she said, chewing on the tough meat, her moonlight hair falling around her angelic face, like a glowing aura around her figure. She had an elven woman's beauty and litheness, yet her eyes were what caught a man's gaze and held it, not in a literal sense.

They were a brilliant sky blue, yet around her pupil was a spiked crown of silver-ish white, giving her gaze an intensity that was nearly impossible to match. They glowed with their own independence and strength, burning beacons in a world where that was all many people had left to hold onto. Beautiful and enrapturing, they looked up at his, catching his gaze.

"My heart is restless," he admitted, twirling the stick of meat around. "I had to leave for a while… To find some things. I was on my way to Sílthrim for Arya spoke well of her friend Captain Damítha."

Bladesinger looked up curiously, "Did she now? Damítha is a strong willed woman, I know her quite well. Would it trouble you if I traveled with you?"

Eragon shrugged nonchalantly, "I'm a very bad travel partner, Saphira complains constantly about my lack of life during trips."

The woman laughed, "'Tis quite fine, Shadeslayer, I think I can make up for your lack of liveliness."

A small smile graced his lips.

"Then I would be honored by your companionship."

* * *

><p>Arya sat atop the rampart that Eragon loved so much, legs crossed, trying to bring peace to her mind which always seemed to avoid serenity. How could Eragon accept and fall into meditation so much quicker than her?<p>

The thought of him made her smile slightly, but brought more turmoil to her already-tumultuous heart.

"Kibriakun_, my daughter," Evandar said softly, swiftly writing out the word in his beautiful manuscript upon the parchment. "This is a word that all warriors embrace and live by. If a warrior needs one word to define his life, it is this."_

"_What does it mean, _fäoir_?"_

_Her father pursed his lips, thinking._

"_I honestly know not. It is more of an idea rather than an actual meaning. You are young my daughter, but I wish for you to understand this. _Kibriakun_, it means strength, invincibility, unbreakable, resilient, unrelenting, infallible in spirit if not in body. It does not mean you shall not succumb to death or shall be perfect, but that you shall try your best and in the name of honor and your fellow brethren you will give your all. Can you remember that?"_

_Arya nodded solemnly._

"I still remember, father," she whispered to the empty night. "But I am no longer what a warrior is… Not without him by my side…"

* * *

><p>Bladesinger watched as her companion drew gently in the dirt, the Elvish letters coming easily to her eyes even after all those long years.<p>

"_Kibriakun_," she murmured.

He smiled warmly, drawing his weaponry and checking them, sucking on his thumb swiftly when he cut himself testing the sharpness of his knives.

"Strength. It is the greatest weapon a warrior has, whether amongst his brothers and sisters or alone and facing a thousand enemies."

He looked up when he saw her eyes flash with some emotion he couldn't place.

"Is it now… I know not the word anymore," Bladesinger whispered, walking into the night.

* * *

><p>Translation: <em>Kibriakun <em>(title) – Unbreakable, invincible, resilient, unrelenting

* * *

><p>TN: my word :3<p>

* * *

><p>AN: Ok this was a frigging like. Lovey dovey chapter. -.-;; lol oh well I think you guys can deal with a little ExA stuff cause it's about to go down pretty soon… I need to wrap up this story so I can start the sequel ;) and ya'll are gon love the sequel lol. At least I hope… it's going to be interesting at the least though I promise xD kinda hard to write when I'm listening to Shinhwa though… lol.. English is hard to write when you're listening to Korean music -.- they had a comeback though so I had to listen loll<p>

Oh, and another thing Ok, I usually wouldn't have a time lapse in any chapter but seeing this chapter is so short and I don't want to add in so much unnecessary information about what happened between that next scene and the day he left, so I skipped a bit ^^;; hope you guys don't mind lol

And i know this chapter was a little bit on the confusing side, but i promise everything will make more sense next chapter ^^ just keep reviewing :D

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><p><strong>QUICK QUESTION<strong>

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><p>Ok, I feel like I should write a fanfic, or at least start one, about the movie Priest which came out sometime last year… I want to know if any of you would be interested in reading it, leave a review and say whether a fanfic of Priest would interest you or not, even if you haven't seen it. For those of you who haven't, I'll give you a quick gist.<p>

For years there was a war between two races, ghoul-like vampires, and humans. The vampires have always been stronger and nearly won the war, forcing the humans to hide in huge, walled cities led by the Catholic Church, where the clergy trained Priests and Priestesses, warriors blessed by God that could fight and slaughter vampires, and they alone turned the war around. They nearly exterminated the vampires and the ones that survived were put in reservations. Because the Priests and Priestesses were so powerful (practically supernatural), they were disbanded and forced to live among the regular people they had saved. Later, the vampires return led by a fallen Priest (later dies), and they take another Priest's "niece" and he goes after her with his niece's boyfriend. The Church sends a couple Priests after him led by his old Priestess comrade who had fought alongside him in the war, and she joins forces with him. The fallen Priest kills the other three Priests and crucifies them, and then runs off to attack other cities with his newly bred vampire army. Even though Priest, Priestess, and the boyfriend kill the fallen Priest later, the vampire queen is still alive and the vampire army is still alive and the second vampire war is about to happen. The other Priests and Priestesses begin to gather against the will of the Church and at the end of the movie, Priest goes off to rendezvous with them. My fanfic would be a story of the Second War and would probably not have any romance seeing that Priests and Priestesses are sworn celibates but we'll see? :) interested, not interested, give it a go? ^^ don't worry, I'll work equally hard on that story and this story, promise~ lol

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><p>Restrained Freedom - encouraging as ever ^^ thank you~<p>

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><p>Redeemed Spirit of Fire - thank you :D<p>

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><p>Cara - oh, you know i try xD thanks :3<p>

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><p>Dessert Maniac - LOL enjoy it while it lasts ^^;; danke shen~<p>

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><p>Eragon5443 - heh i hope that doesn't change when i do what i'm about to do ;3 thank you though :)<p>

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><p>Fanboy123 - thank you! :D<p>

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><p>Armgeddon - keep reading! ^^ thank you~<p>

uh... liege and lord? xD if you want more then you can always request it in the other fanfic of this fanfic i'm writing xD but i haven't really been able to get to those requests.. go look up what could have been on my profile and review/request there :D

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><p>Salixa - thank you~ :3<p> 


	32. Draumar abr du Néthleikr

**Chapter 31 – **_**Draumar abr du Néthleikr**_

"_Elves dream, Eragon, just like every other race does. Except our dreams are tenfold as frightening and twentyfold as realistic for we have lived life for eons without the dark oblivion of death, and we have felt, seen, and heard the most. That is the curse of immortality, Eragon. The dreams of the ones who cannot die."_

_~Arya Dröttningu, Princess of Ellesmera, daughter of King Evander and Queen Islanzadí, egg courier, freedom fighter, one of the council members of the Varden, friend and companion of Eragon Shadeslayer and Saphira Bjatrskular_

Bladesinger shot up, breathing heavily, gasping as she wiped the sweat off her forehead. Rivulets of moisture trickled down her neck, making her shiver as the night wind cooled them into icy vapor.

"Your dreams do not leave you alone."

She spun, still jumpy as she saw Eragon sitting atop a large stone, his bow set beside him with an arrow notched to the string.

"I know that feeling."

He hesitated.

"Immortality is gift and a curse, is it not," he said softly. "We live forever, yet we have forever to remember our mistakes and never know when the blind oblivion of the final release will come."

"Death seems beautiful sometimes," she whispered.

They sat in silence for a few moments, quietly observing the night.

"Sílthrim is close by," Eragon murmured. "After… I honestly know not where fate wishes me to go. Perhaps I shall just wander the lands for a little time."

"Then I shall as well," the wandering warrior promised. "My path seems to have a certain like to be around yours."

He smirked weakly, "We have yet to see if that is a good or bad thing."

* * *

><p>Early the next dawn, they cleaned up their small camp, Starwind prancing over to Eragon, fondly nuzzling his rider's chest. The Dragon Rider smiled warmly, rubbing his horse's muzzle, kissing the majestic forehead before setting the considerably light bags across the saddle, swinging himself atop the beast.<p>

"'Tis a marvelous horse you have," Bladesinger, mounting her own powerful stallion. It was not as regal or large as Starwind, but its powerful legs rippled with muscles, its chest hardened from experience and strength, emanating a formidable, fearsome presence.

"As is yours," Eragon said, turning his horse around with a quiet elvish word. "He was given to me by the elves, they called him Starwind and I had no wish to change such a fitting name."

Starwind nickered at the mention of his name, easily trotting alongside Bladesinger.

"Indeed," the warrior smiled, lightly urging her horse faster. "But I doubt it has the strength of Whitefire."

Eragon grinned recklessly, feeling the first youthful urge he had felt in months.

"You have declared war, mistress."

The two travelers raced off towards Sílthrim, both leaning down as their horses sped across the grasslands.

And Eragon laughed. For no reason at all, he laughed. Then to his great surprise, he found Bladesinger's song-like laughter gracing the morning winds, the two laughing as they rode towards fate.

* * *

><p>The scenery wasn't too beautiful. The Hadarac was a wasteland, nothing more, and even though they were a few leagues north of the desert, the lands were still sparsely covered by vegetation, nothing like the heavy forests of <em>Du Weldenvarden<em> not fifty leagues north of the great desert. A few trees and shrubs, but mostly grasses and moss, a couple streams flowing south, but that was nearly it. Soon enough, though, they saw the larger clumps of trees that came before the elven forest, Eragon letting Starwind walk to give the stallion time to rest seeing they had nearly reached their destination.

"You say you know the captain well?" he asked as he stroked the horse's neck, the great beast snorting as it happily flicked its tail.

"She and I fought alongside each other during the Rider War. I can understand why someone like Arya would be good friends with her. They both are stubborn, strong, independent elven women, even though they are hundreds of years apart in age. We used to be the leading captains of three cities that banded together to try and hold off a Forsworn attack fifty years or so before."

Eragon looked over at his companion, his shock clearly showing in his eyes.

She smiled, "_Shur'tugal_, I am older than you believe."

"You are not human nor are you Elfkind," he said, looking out at the darkening horizon. "I have no idea what you are then, sister."

The warrior pursed her lips.

"You would not believe me should I tell you."

"I would not have believed you either had you told me I would become a Dragon Rider destined to fight Galbatorix, help lead the Varden, meet an Elven princess, and be trained by two of the greatest, most powerful Dragon Riders who ever walked upon Alagaësian soil."

She chuckled, "I suppose you are right. Perhaps that will be a story for another night. We approach Sílthrim, and yet something is amiss with the night…"

* * *

><p>Captain Damítha stood atop the highest branch, her eyes narrowing as she watched the restless forest.<p>

Something was stirring. Something… ancient.

Her hair fluttered in the wind, the gold, flaxen strands swirling around her angelic face. She roughly grabbed her loose hairs, tying them back so she could see better, hurriedly using the crystalline clip Arya had gifted to her years ago as a promise of friendship.

"Do you feel it also, Damítha-Vay?" Lieutenant Éwyn asked, silently climbing the tree to stand beside her, perfectly balancing on the branch with ease.

"Aye," she muttered. "Double the guard tonight. If any wanderers come within sight, bring them into the city walls immediately. I do not want anyone killed out there by whatever is coming."

"Understood, captain."

* * *

><p>Eragon's fingers curled around Brisingr's hilt, warily looking around. Bladesinger was on edge, her eyes flickering from shadow to shadow, her horse trotting lightly to avoid making too much noise, feeling its master's unease.<p>

"The night sleeps not," she whispered. "The forest is agitated. Something bothers its serenity."

"Darkness has awakened," Eragon agreed. "Something is amiss."

His strange sixth sense which had come from all his Hand training threw him to the ground, narrowly having his throat ripped out by a growling shadow as it shot across the space he had just been. Starwind spun around, loyally putting itself between the creature and its master, Eragon already drawing his sword to push his horse out of harm's way, Bladesinger leaping off her steed, sword readied as she searched around as the shadow loped into the forest.

Eerie silence.

"When the night groweth still," she whispered. "When the wind bloweth south. When the darkness feeleth suffocating. When thine heart groweth frail. Thou knowest the dire wolves are near."

Eragon spun as a shadow leapt from the shadows, landing on the ground in front of him. The huge wolf was nearly twice the size of a regular one, nearly coming up to the stallion's neck as the horse neighed nervously, unsure what to do. The wolf paid the horse no attention as it growled at Eragon, its hackles rising in a ominous way.

"Bad?" he asked under his breath.

"Very."

He ducked as the wolf leapt, his Hand senses throwing his body to the side right as he moved, barely dodging the wolf that leapt right when he had his back turned.

He quickly learned why Bladesinger didn't like them.

They were perfectly coordinated with each other, attacking right when the other did to distract and to expose him to another wolf, giving him little time to react.

"Use their strength against them!" she snapped, slamming her blade through one's mouth, throwing it away with a powerful flick of her forearm.

"How in the name of spirits do you do that?" he demanded angrily, rolling to avoid the slashing claws of another wolf.

He nearly tripped over a root, his sword arm swinging wildly, cutting through the paw of one as it leapt into his unexpected blade, Eragon twisting as he stopped his fall into a side roll.

He watched the wolf whimper as it limped away, dragging a stump where a paw used to be.

"Oh."

Bladesinger smirked.

He dove out of the way as a wolf sprung at him, slashing randomly at the place he felt would be most exposed, satisfyingly striking something solid as another wolf howled in pain.

He jackknifed to his feet, finding the dogs warily watching the two now, snarling and barking.

Abruptly, an arrow sprouted out of the forehead of the nearest wolf, the rest scattering near instantly. Another arrow appeared in the heart of a wolf, Eragon and Bladesinger using their shock to whittle down their numbers considerably. The surviving wolves fled into the trees, their savior dropping from a tree.

The armored elf quickly motioned them to follow him, "Swiftly! The dire wolves shall return, travelers, get in the shelter of Sílthrim!"

* * *

><p>Damítha watched as Éwyn brought in the two sword-wielding travelers, her post high atop the city upon the tallest Lailana tree. It was no titan like the Menoa Tree, but the ancient Lailana trees were considerable, stretching nearly three dragon-lengths into the sky, creating a natural barrier as the city walls were stretched between the lower branches of the trees, towers, vine-bridges, ladders, and other vines connection the wall segments.<p>

She comfortably grabbed a vine, rappelling down to the ground, bowing to the visitors courteously, "Good travelers, welcome to Sílthrim."

She heard a familiar chuckle.

"Damítha, do you not remember I told you to never bow to me?"

She straightened, a smirk on her lips as she winked at her old friend.

"Never would forget, sister."

She quickly bowed again when she saw who the other visitor was. Arya had spoken of him enough to have a general idea of what he looked like, and her descriptions were half as worthy of the god who stood before her, regal and noble, yet with the little hint of innocence that made her want to hold him in her arms.

"_Shur'tugal_, you are most welcome here," she said, trying not to make a fool of herself. "_Atra esterní ono thelduin_."

The simplest touch from his strong, sinewy fingers nearly sent her to her knees.

"Any friend of Arya is a friend of mine," he smiled. "_Mor'ranr lífa unin hjarta onr._"

"_Un du evarínya ono varda_," she finished.

The captain desperately tried bringing her composure back together, sweeping her arm, "Please, this way, the lords and ladies of the city are convening as we speak, I am sure they would want your wise words at the council."

Eragon hesitated, glancing at Bladesinger.

"It is better if we inform them of the situation of the Varden and give them advise them on the coming battles," she murmured. "You are most knowledgeable in this subject."

The Dragon Rider nodded grimly, "So be it."

* * *

><p>Lord Deliath stood up angrily, "Lady Eila, you have no idea of the situation out of our city boundaries, sending our soldiers out into the forests to find what is making the nights so restless is like sending them to their deaths!"<p>

The other lords and ladies all leapt to their feet, shouting agreements or oppositions, until the twin doors swung open with such force they slammed against the wall dramatically.

"Quite an entrance you make," Bladesinger hissed under her breath as Eragon strode into the hall, bowing.

"I cannot help it," he whispered. "Huge double doors, irresistible."

She nearly laughed at the childish twinkle in his eyes as he straightened, facing the stunned elven nobles.

"Lords and Ladies, please, be seated, arguing over matters will never get as far as simply speaking out your mind in a civilized manner," he said, his powerful, majestic voice practically slamming the aristocrats back into their seats.

He had truly grown. The first time she had seen him he had been but a young man, new to the world of war and politics, now he could silence powerful leaders with just a few words and command their attention without even asking for it.

"I apologize for my very rude entrance, but I felt like the news I carry would make up for my interruption," he continued as he stayed back, hands clasped behind his back in a servile manner, tilting his head so he would seem as if he was humbly addressing the lords and ladies as a messenger would. "I am Dragon Rider Eragon, son of Brom and Serena, last free Rider, elf-friend, honorary brother of King Orik of the dwarves, and sworn warrior of the Varden and her allies. Captain Damítha tells me that the lords and ladies of the council were worried about the situation outside Sílthrim and asked if I could tell you of what I know."

Damítha glanced at her friend, exchanging a whole conversation with their eyes alone, Bladesinger letting the captain meld minds with her.

_Is he always this eloquent?_

_He grew. A lot._

_He is quite the speaker._

_I think you were not paying attention only to his speaking skills._

Damítha's cheeks flushed, proving Bladesinger right.

Lord Talwyn nodded, "_Shur'tugal_, you honor us with your presence. We would most appreciate your words of advice in these… unsure times."

Eragon inclined his head politely, "Of course, milord. Teirm, Kuasta, Narda, Belatona, Gil'ead, and many cities of the western empire have fallen into our hands."

He went on to describe the position of the Varden and an approximate numbers of their forces, and then describing what they knew of the Empire. Believed locations of the separate armies, strength, leaders, such of the like, it was a very boring talk in Bladesinger's opinion. She was a warrior of action, not a warrior of planning.

When Eragon had finally finished practically lecturing the spellbound nobles, he bowed again, waiting for them to shut their gaping mouths. No, not really, but he waited as they soaked in the years' worth of information.

"Thank you, Shadeslayer, for your help," Lady Elani said, graciously inclining her head. "What do you suggest we do, _Shur'tugal_?"

Eragon hesitated.

"Stay within your walls. As we leave, Bladesinger and I shall figure out what has drawn the dire wolves to your lands. I doubt it is something very trivial."

Bladesinger spoke up, "Agreed. In my experience, dire wolves were an ill omen of darkness stirring. I am sure many of the guards have felt the awakening shadows that seem to stalk the forests outside your city gates."

Damítha nodded, as did a few of the guards who had followed them in.

Eragon bowed once more, "If we may be excused…"

The nobles all stood and bowed as one, "Of course," Lord Thivan said. "Guards, please show our guests to some rooms in the Star Wing, and please inform the servants that they are to be treated as nobles."

* * *

><p>"The darkness almost feels familiar," Bladesinger muttered quietly as they sat across from each other on their separate beds. "It is as if… I know this thing…"<p>

Eragon looked at her, "As if you know it? The thing that made the dire wolves appear around Sílthrim?"

"Aye," she said. "I have felt it before… It is not the first time I have met it… But how…"

The haunted look in her eyes was enough to worry the Dragon Rider.

"What is it?"

She shook her head, "No… It cannot be. We shall see when we venture out of the city."

She then forced a smile, "All will be good."

Somehow, her reassurance more felt like a goodbye.

* * *

><p>He watched quietly as the wolves gathered around him, quietly brushing against his legs and hands affectionately.<p>

She was near. He could feel her presence. The last one who had evaded his blade for so many years.

He smiled.

She was here.

Finally.

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><p>Translation: <em>Draumar abr du Néthleikr <em>(title) – Dreams of the Immortal

_Shur'tugal _– Dragon Rider

_Atra esterní ono thelduin_ / _Mor'ranr lífa unin hjarta onr / Un du evarínya ono varda _- May good fortune rule over you. Peace live in your heart. And the stars watch over you

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><p>TN: The only word that's mine is <em>néthleikr<em> :D only one word, what an accomplishment lol

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><p>AN: sorry for my extremely late update Dx I haven't really been in a writing mood lately… and school + social + private life has kind of mashed up and mixed and turned into a tornado and swept me away for a while… so yeah o.o;; but seeing it's almost summer, I'll hopefully be able to update a lot, lot more, and work on those commission one-shots in my other story… sigh I haven't even finished the first one… sad.. smh but yeah I'll be updating more often hopefully and I'll try to keep up with everything, promises :)<p>

Can you tell someone is screwed? xD

And before I forget, and before the end, I want to thank everyone who's read this far~ it means a lot to hear your feedback and your critique :) so thank you so much!~

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><p>Phoenix1592 – I love Bladesinger. I love mysterious characters xD you'll be seeing a lot more of her past soon~ thanks for the review :3<p>

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><p>Fanboy123 – I hope this chapter was a lot more explanatory Dx sorry I was kind of rushing to get a chapter out but I spent what like five weeks on this chapter…. Lol hopefully it makes more sense now! But thank you~ :D<p>

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><p>Darth Feanor – I should probably explain the other girl.. what was her name, Gray-Eyes?... o.o;; maybe she'll make a cameo appearance xD thank you~<p>

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><p>Restrained Freedom – thank you so much! your loyal fanning is quite encouraging as is everyone else's xD they'll cameo in the next one, promise, I should keep my word on your request for the chapter, I actually did start it but didn't find much time for it Dx It'll be on the new story soon enough hopefully!~<p>

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><p>Vaedhiv – thank you!~ hopefully he will… honestly your review made me think of a lot of things o.o;; you'll see the effects of your review soon :D<p>

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><p>Cara – thank you as always!~ :3<p>

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><p>Triforcevita – thank you!~ I'll try to update more often nowww~<p> 


	33. Kodthr du Seira

**Chapter 32 – **_**Kodthr du Seira**_

"_Promises do not mean much these days, do they…"_

"_No, they do not."_

_(slight pause)_

"_And to you?"_

"_I live on promises."_

_~Arya Dröttningu (first speaker) and Eragon Shadeslayer (second speaker)_

Arya nearly leapt off the bed with surprise when her scrying bowl shimmered and warped, Eragon's face soon appearing in the enchanted water.

"Eragon!"

He smiled tiredly, "Hello, princess. I apologize for not have scrying you sooner, I was… occupied. How have you been?"

She almost could feel the warmth from his presence no matter it was only a magical apparition of him.

"Decently enough. Roran found a hidden library in the lower levels of the dungeon and I'm working on translating the writings from the books. I found one you may find interest in when you return."

He nodded, "I shall see it on my return to Belatona."

Then he hesitated.

"I miss you."

She gave a half-hearted smile, trying to control the mad beat of her heart.

"I miss you too, Eragon. Return swiftly?"

He sighed, raking his hand through his bleaching light-brown hair, "Fate seems to like taking me far and wide, but I am not alone. Bladesinger has joined in my travels, so you need not fear. I shall try to scry you more often."

"Be safe, _Shur'tugal_," she warned, wishing she could find the strength in herself to say all she felt.

"And you, my princess."

* * *

><p>Bladesinger sat atop the roof, watching the forest with her piercing eyes, still feeling the overwhelming darkness that seemed so close.<p>

She shook her head, trying to clear his face from her mind.

_It couldn't be him… He was banished from this world… Wasn't he? He couldn't be back… Unless… No, that possibility was impossible… He couldn't have… Could he?..._

She sighed in exasperation, leaning back on the wooden roof, looking up at the stars.

They had been resting at Sílthrim for two moons now and were planning to leave. The darkness had grown like a shoot from a seed, so quickly and so omnipresent that it felt like it was pressing against her very soul every moment she breathed.

She pursed her lips.

* * *

><p>Eragon sat up from his bed as Bladesinger swung into the room through the open window, smiling gently as she flopped quite childishly onto her bed.<p>

"You seem tired," he chuckled.

She sighed, "Thoughts tire me more than physical work. How goes your training with Damítha?"

Eragon had discovered a new form of fighting which intrigued him. The Sílthrim soldiers had all been trained in a form of unarmed combat that focused on defeating an armed opponent, from bows to swords and staffs and knives. Damítha had offered—quite shyly—to teach him the basics, but in one day the young Dragon Rider had soaked in all the techniques like a cloth took in water. He could already disarm and immobilize swordsmen or archers, and Damítha had swiftly advanced his training.

"Interesting to say the least," he grimaced. "I never knew knives could be so hard to dodge."

"You're unarmed, it makes it extremely hard unlike a sword which can be much more unwieldy. A knife can shift direction in the blink of an eye and the twitch of a finger."

Eragon had already told her that her eyes could easily pierce the soul of any being and sometimes unsettled even him, but she found his eyes even more disconcerting. It wasn't a bad thing, but she always felt like he could strip her defenses and read her soul like he would a book. The bronze eye burned with frightening passion, yet his silver eye was as cold as metal in a snowstorm.

Ice and fire…

Just like…

His eyes narrowed as if he could see her turmoil, which he probably could.

"There is something more?..." he asked unsurely.

It touched her how sensitive he was, never demanding unless he needed to, never asking for help even when it was clear he needed it, yet always offering a hand no matter how simple the task.

"Give me your hand."

He did so without hesitation.

She stopped for a second.

"Do you trust me, Eragon?"

He nodded.

She reached into her boot, pulling out a throwing dagger, unflinchingly cutting her palm open, tossing it handle-first to him.

"Do the same."

It was disturbing to see him in pain while looking at his eyes. His bronze eye nearly flared into a deep gold or slight red with anger and pain but his silver eye turned even whiter, shifting between silver and platinum, like ice.

Blood trickled down his hand and fingers, like a beautifully deadly spider web.

She pressed their hands together, wincing slightly as the burning sensation from her wound registered. Again Eragon's eyes flared and brightened, but he didn't resist.

"A promise sealed by blood. You are now part of me as I am of you. From this day on, I shall call you not my friend or companion, but my own kin, my brother, my flesh blood. All I have is yours, I ask for nothing in return but for your promise that you shall carry on my legacy should I leave. _Séva ilerné eka_."

Eragon's eyes looked up in surprise.

She smiled a tiny bit.

"I prayed this day would not come this quickly, but the time flows by as swiftly as a mountain stream. Do I have your word?"

He nodded.

"A promise sealed by blood. Who I am is now part of you, as I accept your oath of kinship. No longer are you my friend and companion, but my own flesh and blood, my sister, my kin. I promise that for as long as I can, my hand shall always be extended to help and protect you, sister. _Séva ilerné eka_."

She hesitated.

"That is a heavy promise you make, brother."

"I am a heavy-hearted person, sister. I am built upon promises, I live by them. I cannot abandon them."

She smiled.

"I know, Eragon. That is why you shall win this battle. With the darkness in here," she whispered, tapping his chest. "Here," she said, touching his temple, "and the darkness sitting atop his throne in Urû'baen made of the souls he slaughtered."

* * *

><p>Damítha bowed as Eragon led Starwind out of the stables, patting the stable boy's shoulder as the young human child smiled brightly.<p>

"Safe journeys, _Shur'tugal_, sister. May the stars watch over your paths on your travel. You are always welcome in Sílthrim, friends."

Eragon gave a chivalrous bow, kissing the captain's knuckles as he mounted his stallion, the horse sniffing the air as if sensing the suffocating darkness of the forest beyond the walls.

"We shall figure out what we can, captain, I thank you for everything you've taught me," he smiled. "I shall try to stay on my feet more often."

Damítha laughed beautifully, "As shall I, Shadeslayer. May your sword forever stay sharp, call upon Sílthrim and we shall be at your command at the battlefield."

Bladesinger embraced the captain of the guard, leaping atop her own stallion as the two travelers once again galloped on towards whatever fate had in store.

"Does your heart draw you southward?" Bladesinger asked as they rode side-by-side.

Eragon nodded.

"South it is," the warrior said, wheeling her horse northward.

* * *

><p>The figure smiled expectantly.<p>

"Northward. Right towards me."

He gently ran a finger down the edge of his greatsword.

"Run, bladelord. Run, ride, do what you will. 'But death liketh not those who runneth from him.'"

* * *

><p>Bladesinger drew lines in the ground, crisscrossing the rough sketch of the human body, illuminated by their campfire.<p>

"Magic is a powerful force, but it is directly connected to your life. The reason why we burn out and die if we overuse our strength in a spell is because it exhausts not only our physical strength, but our literal life force. Our life force is centered around our heart, where all the lines begin. When we use spells, the most direct link to our heart is our mind, so that's why unspoken spells are so powerful and unpredictable, it has the strongest life force and that makes it volatile. The elder magicians usually will stretch their arms out to their sides when casting a spell because that gives the life force the quickest way to your hands which channel it in the form of magic. The less your life force has to twist and curve to get to your channel, the stronger it will be with the same amount of force."

She held out her arm in front of her, a flame sparking in her palm. She slowly moved her arm so it ended up parallel to her shoulders, the flame maybe twice as large. She closed her hand, the fire vanishing in a small cloud of smoke as she indicated for him to try.

He held his arm in front of him, easily casting a simple light spell, an orb of light appearing in his hand, keeping a constant stream of energy. Moving his arm out to his sides, he felt the magic rush quicker through him, the light expanding in his hand.

She nodded, "To cast stronger spells, stand to the side and point your arm out at them or stretch your arms to your sides, it uses less energy and it's more powerful than your opponent's if they're normally equal with you. Your life force is a completely different story. It matters on who you are. From what I feel from your aura, your life force draws life from the natural world, like trees or plants. Others can draw it from the water, or the stones, or for some strange occurrences, the life force draws strength from other life forces. Even stranger, some can draw it from death or pain. Where do you feel strongest?"

Eragon pursed his lips, shrugging as he thought.

"Forest. Trees. Grasslands. Sometimes water. Rimgar and meditating feels easiest in water."

Bladesinger nodded, "Then try to choose the battleground in a place where there natural life is abundant. Your life force will draw strength much faster since you are inside a place where it's comfortable, and you will tire less easily. If you begin to strain your limit, your body will give you warnings. Sweat, your chest will start hurting, your channels will start aching and your magic will grow weaker. If you get to that point, you're half a step out of the door of this world."

She gestured, a nearby tree starting to disintegrate, ashes flowing away with the wind until nothing was left. A faint green wisp of light flowed out of the ashes, slipping into her hand before sinking in through her skin, her hand glowing green for half a moment.

"That is your last resort. You can absorb the life of your life element. If it's natural life, you can absorb it from there or from water maybe if that's what it is. Death or pain is different, for pain they need to absorb the pain of others. Death… Never mind, you need not worry about that. There's no real spell for the absorption, you just concentrate on the life force, and… draw it. If I wanted to, I could absorb half this forest's life force and leave a wasteland in my wake. Try. On grass, a tree is slightly harder, grass is a simple life force. Find the vein, you find the life. Close your eyes. Reach out, and concentrate."

Eragon did as she did, trying to see the grass within his mind.

Grass. Darkness. A strand. A green strand? He grasped at it, but it slipped out of his fingers, vanishing like smoke.

His eyes snapped open, his lungs bursting as he let out the breath he didn't know he had been holding as he gasped for air.

Bladesinger nodded, "Close. You'll get it. Keep practicing, if you're to have enough strength to fight Galbatorix and his _eldunarya_, you will need to learn this skill, dark as it is."

His brows furrowed.

"This is dark magic?"

"It is destroying life. Not like killing, not a simple death, it destroys their very essence, their very life force. It eats the vein of creation from their existence and gives it to you. The thing is when you do this, that vein lives within you and it acts like a second vein, giving you as much strength as it would the original host. I now have the energy of myself and that tree, and all the other veins I've taken. Galbatorix did this. A lot. I know not what veins he has, but he has hundreds, and his _eldunarya_, and his original strength which is formidable, much more than formidable. It replenishes itself as it normally does, like a spare candle for your lantern."

"Does… destroying their essence kill their soul?"

She hesitated.

"No. Their soul will live on and go to the starlit city as all souls do, but it will be harder for them to get there. As for trees and inanimate objects, it destroys a bit of creation, but creation will recreate itself slowly, so it's safer to take the life force of a stone, say, or a tree, or something other than living creatures."

Eragon nodded, closing his eyes again, visualizing the grass.

Again, the vein flashed within his mind, but this time he snagged it and held on, the vein strangely unresisting. It then slithered around his arm, wrapping around him as it sunk into his body.

He opened his eyes to see the same green wisp flow into his hand as a little cloud of ash blew away. A tiny flutter in his energy.

Bladesinger clapped his shoulder, smiling.

That was all the congratulations he needed.

* * *

><p>Translation: <em>Kodthr du Seira <em>(title) – Catch the Vein

_Séva ilerné eka_ – So sayeth/speaketh I

_Eldunarya _– dragons' heart of hearts (plural)

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><p>TN: Um… <em>seira<em> is my word, and _ilerné_ is taken from _ilerneo _but I slightly changed it so it seems a little older xD so yeah it's still technically Paolini's :)

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><p>AN: um… to be honest, this chapter probably has a lot more personal meaning to me than most the other chapters I've written… but no comment other than that lol honestly this chapter was kind of just an informative chapter… kind of boring honestly ._.;;<p>

Wow I updated pretty quickly… o.o I promise next chapter will have a lot more fighting xD and that mysterious dire wolf brother will be coming into play very soon~

I hope the life force and veins and stuff like that makes sense Dx it'll become really important later so if you don't understand, feel free to pm me or something or leave a review asking and I'll try to explain in my next AN~ :)

And thank you for all your reviews!~ they really do encourage me and I'm really grateful for all of you who take the time to just leave a little word for me, no matter how short it is :D please, if you do have the time, just leave a few words, it really does help me knowing how you feel, anonymous reviews are enabled so even if you don't have an account you can still leave a review :) so please review~ thanks for everyone who kept up with my story ^^

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><p>Restrained Freedom – sigh I need to lessen on Eragon's godliness xD but thing is Dragon Riders are practically looked up to as gods, which kind of makes Eragon's descriptions true lolol but thank you :D<p>

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><p>Pie in the Face – somehow I managed to update pretty quickly xD thank you for your support~ :)<p>

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><p>Phoenix1592 – mm you'll see soon ;) thank you! ^^<p>

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><p>Dessert Maniac – thank you! :D<p>

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><p>Dwarfinator – lolol your name xD I love it~<p>

Anyways, thank you!~ and I hope my pm explained your question~

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><p>Nothing You Need to Know – LOL I find your reviews amusing to read xD thank you for your encouragement! :)<p>

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><p>Darth Feanor – I know Dx I'm trying to find a good way to show his more weak, vulnerable side but it's been hard.. but next chapter you'll see it, but in a way you probably don't want to see.. ;) but who knows lol thank you!~<p>

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><p>FYI – lol thank you! in a way o.o;; I deleted my chapter-AN so all should be good xD<p>

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><p>Anon – I honestly don't either but I vaguely remember her appearing in the Varden camp with gray-eyes and yeah… she intrigued me xD thank you for your review~<p> 


	34. Eitha Eka Neo

**Chapter 33 –_Eitha Eka Neo_**

"_Everyone leaves. 'Tis like my curse, is it not? All the ones I love leave me, all the ones I adore die, my companions are slaughtered before my eyes. Maybe that is what made me so cold. Maybe that is why I'm afraid to love anyone. Afraid that they'll die and I won't be able to do anything like all those who I have already lost…"_

_~Eragon Shadeslayer, Bromsson, last Free Dragon Rider, Heir Lord of Vroengard__, Lord Master of the Hands of Death, mate of the former Lady Mistress Sarissa_

Arya rummaged through her desk, pulling out the strange, old journal, opening it to where she had left off the other night.

_The early Dreamwraiths and the Riders created a great Hall of Prophets. Legend says that the hall houses the spirits and souls of prophets and seers who prophesy to all who enter. The cover the walls with their omens and foretelling, bad and good, evil and pure. Though it was said to have been lost eons ago, my companions and I have found many leads to its location… I feel it is near._

She stopped with surprise at the next entry.

_We found it. The sheer… energy, the power, the strength and magic this place houses… 'Tis incredible… I cannot believe beings of such power could exist to house the souls of the dead in this world…_

She kept reading.

_The prophesies… are strange. All of them foretell the rebirth of one who shall bring balance to the powers in Alagaësia… one of many bloods, ancient royalty, the seafaring warriors, a race beyond the seas, and Alagaësia… They speak of a great war and his rise and fall, his battle between him and a black king. They make no sense, the last war was the Dragon War, could they be speaking of Lord Rider Eragon? But the prophesies still lie here though Lord Eragon has fulfilled many of them, yet many of them he has not… Their titles for him are just as endless… Some call him "The Son of Dragons," others refer to this child as the "Heir of a Thousand Kings," Bringer of Fire, Peace Bringer, Warrior of All, King of Hearts, the Banner, Lord of the Blade, Warrior Lord, Slayer of Darkness, One Who Walks in the Light, the Last King, the Coming Lord… There is not a single prophesy not tied to this man…_

She narrowed her eyes.

_Bringer of Fire. Son of Dragons._

She shook her head, going onto the next entry.

_The prophesies warp and change…. This hall is incredible, the prophesies are alive, they are not set in stone, they change… Yet… There still is not a single one that does not sing of the one who will bring balance… Who is this one?... And… This "Slayer of a Thousand Balances"… They still do not come easily to my mind, my companions have agreed we must journey to the great library in Ilirea when we leave. Perhaps this one shall appear in records._

She froze.

_Slayer of a Thousand Balances._

"No, it couldn't be," she muttered.

_I am starting to receive visions… Frightening visions. Visions of fire. Death… Pain, betrayal. I see the great stronghold of Gilad'val aflame, huge serpentine creatures slain… No, dragons… Dragons slain… Hundreds of them… Blood, so much blood…_

_I saw… _him_._

_The child. He was in my dreams! Brown-haired, the most wonderful hazel eyes, in the arms of a beautiful lady and a king-like man. I heard the sky thunder, announcing his birth, the changing of the tides, the birth of the child who shall become freedom's banner… Out of chaos, order, out of the darkest night, a fire to light the candles of a million brave souls… I can feel the stars tremble in his presence… The oceans roar in anticipation. The eldest of the world soar the skies and depths, awaiting his birth. This world waits for him, their leader and Lord, through the depths of death and the sea, through fire and ice, through rain, pain, and the burning hells of this world, he shall be born._

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><p>Eragon's eyebrows furrowed as he felt the general discomfort of the atmosphere around them as they rode northeast, their horses at a light trot. The rain didn't help. Somehow the rain hadn't stopped for the past two days, drizzling, the dark mood made him more uneasy. He hadn't seen the sun since they had set out from Sílthrim, and for a desert, that was slightly unnerving.<p>

Bladesinger warily stopped her steed upon the road.

"Dire wolves," she growled.

Eragon looked up ahead, his sharp eyes picking up the huge, dark forms sulking towards them.

He wheeled Starwind around just to find another group of dire wolves stalking them, their dark, wet fur rustling like a bird would its feathers. Water droplets turned to blood, a trail of small liquid rose petals of the dead following in their wake.

Bladesinger leapt off her horse, drawing her sword.

"Run. Ride. Ride away as far as you can, stop for nothing."

"My vow did not include abandoning you to overgrown wolves," he said, slid off Starwind as he drew Brisingr.

"Listen to me, fool!" she growled, the two horses prancing nervously as the wolves got closer, barking and yipping at each other.

"Why should he, sister? Afraid I'll kill him like I killed everyone else?"

The dire wolves parted as an explosion of dark mist and lightning let a man enter their vision.

The man nearly had darkness rolling off of his pitch-black armor. He didn't even have a shadow as if his presence drew all the darkness to him, defying the sun.

His crimson, feral eyes smiled as did his lips, curling back to reveal sharp teeth.

"Bladesinger. Beautiful as always. May I have this last dance?"

* * *

><p>Arya picked up the last page that had ripped off and fallen to the ground.<p>

_They are here. Me and my brethren lords cannot hold for long. The demons grow restless. We cannot defeat them all. We alone cannot slay Lord Dathrys. The traitor has grown powerful. Náonin, Bladelord of the Highlands, where is she… She is the last. We are a dying order. The one. He shall bring balance. Náonin, if you ever read this, find him. Protect him. Bestow him our code and strength. You know what you must do._

_Dathrys, brother, what turned you to the darkness… I loved you, my brother… Perhaps in your search for Sister Náonin you may find this journal… Perhaps you may read my words… if you do… Brother, I am so sorry I could not save you from the shadow that consumed your kind, beautiful soul…_

_Now you stand at my doorstep with an army of demons, demanding for a peaceful talk. One I know I shall not return from._

_This world shall never know of my death, as it should be._

_Farewell, Náonin._

_I, Bladelord Sivan, Lord of the Order, bid thee farewell._

* * *

><p>Bladesinger uneasily stepped in front of Eragon, "Lord Dathrys. Unexpected, as always."<p>

He bowed gallantly, "You know I cannot help it, Lady Náonin. Ah, you must be the famed Eragon Shadeslayer, even from the darkness I could hear the dying souls whispering your name. It is an honor to meet you at last."

Eragon looked at Bladesinger unsurely.

"Dathrys, keep him out of it. His destiny is tied to yours more than you would like to admit."

The warrior shrugged nonchalantly, his greatsword casually drawing in the dirt.

"Wolves. Deal with him."

* * *

><p>Eragon dodged the wolves as another one crashed into Bladesinger, throwing her forward in front of the stranger.<p>

"Bladesinger!" he shouted, kicking out to snap the neck of a wolf as it leapt at him.

She ran at him, only to be stopped by a wall of growling wolves. "Eragon!" she snapped, hurling her sword to him.

He grabbed the one-hand grip, spinning their blades to create a quick shield as he danced through the wolves.

And Bladesinger turned to face her literal demon of the past.

"Do you remember the last night you saw me?"

She crouched into a ready position, watching him warily, "It would be hard to forget, brother. You killed them all, Dathrys. Why. We loved you, you were our brother! What madness got into your soul that made you slaughter those who called you friend and brother?"

His handsome face contorted with anger.

"Brother… Who loved me? Who cared for me, Náonin? Tell me!" he roared.

"Sivan! He adored you like he would his own son! And yet you stabbed your own blade through his heart, his heart that wanted nothing but the best for you! Ava, whose hands bound your wounds that fateful night the demons attacked us, who taught you to dance! Cáloin, your brother-in-arms, the man who fought side by side with you every single battle, telling you jokes, stumbled home drunk together, the man who taught you how to wield that sword! Raviel, who bound your soul to your blade, making you so powerful, the one who sacrificed herself to save you from the darkness you embrace! I… I loved you! You were the one I trusted most, the one I cared for, the one who held me when I cried, when I broke apart! You were the one that taught me to never love again! The one who taught me to trust no one, to never believe a word that came out of someone's lips! For leaving our order, I learned I could never trust a living soul again! You, I hated you for all these decades, all those long years I waited for you to return and say sorry and to ask for me to take you back in my arms, to hold me again! But you, what did you do?"

His blood-red eyes shimmered.

"No, you never returned! No, you left and without even a goodbye! No, you slaughtered those I loved, you… You! The one person I thought would always be with me, you murder every single one of our Order, and what, save me for last. You should have killed me first. You should have taken that damned blade of yours and put it through my chest first."

She grabbed his collar, "Just do it right now!" she screamed. "I won't fight, I won't stop you! Just kill me!"

Tears streamed down her face, her beautiful blue eyes nearly glowing with sadness, tears, pain, want, regret, fury, acceptance of her fate. Rain mingled with the salty sorrow, her soaked hair sticking to her neck and face, the rain just coming, and coming…

"Kill you…" Dathrys whispered…

"Kill me," she begged. "Just end it…"

His eyes flickered.

Then she felt the piercing pain in her abdomen. The iron taste of blood in her mouth, the warmth spreading from her stomach.

The cackling.

She knew that sound. The darkness. The stench. The smell of death rising once again.

"Dathrys, what have they done to you…"

* * *

><p>Eragon slammed Brisingr down into the last wolf, the yelp being the last sound from the dying animal.<p>

The smell hit him before the sight.

He looked up, wiping blood from a gash on his temple, finding himself face-to-face with something he wish he could un-see.

He wasn't sure what it was, but it was not alive. Nothing alive could be missing half its face and have it replaced by maggots.

He yelled with surprise, instinctively lashing out with his foot, making the thing stagger back a few steps.

Bladesinger ran in, leaping above it as he threw her sword back to her, the warrior grabbing it midair before bringing it crashing down into the thing's back.

"Demons," she growled as the thing cackled, stopping when she twisted her blade violently and harshly..

She spun around, meeting the attack of another one, this one having blood dripping down its empty eye socket, maggots bathing in the liquid. The man stood at the top of the hill, his arms outstretched, demons rising from the ground, limping and running to join the fray.

"Dathrys!" Bladesinger shouted. "Dathrys, stop this!"

"I cannot!" he snarled. "I cannot stop what death has willed! This world shall tumble into darkness and eternal shadow, as it should! The celestials were wrong to create such a ruined, marred, fragile world! Death sees all, and all shall fall!"

"_Brisingr_!" Eragon snapped, turning a demon aflame, the cackling becoming a roar, and then nothingness as the thing fell to the ground, unmoving before the worms came out of the body, basking in the decay.

"Rise, brothers!" Dathrys thundered. "Burn the world of the living!"

Bladesinger cut down another demon, charging up at the man standing at the head of the procession of madness.

They toppled to the ground, the onslaught of demons ceasing as Dathrys concentrated on the threat in his face, the two exchanging blows, swords forgotten as they grappled with each other, Eragon hacking through the demons. He weaved through the undead, drawing his katana as he used it to behead a demon, disarming the headless monster and then cutting it into a dozen pieces, trying to get to Bladesinger.

"Bladesinger!" he shouted. "Náonin!"

* * *

><p>She heard her name but she only focused on the being she used to love that lay in her grip.<p>

"Traitor," she whispered hoarsely. "Murderer. Liar…"

"Why protect a world that hates you for protecting it?" he rasped. "Why? Why! I'm doing what is right, Náonin! Let this world burn, join me!"

"Give this world a chance, Dathrys," she begged. "Join _me_…"

Tears. No… Blood… His tears were blood… Stars, what did the darkness do to him…

"Tears hurt in the shadows when you are alone," he whispered. "No, Náonin… It is too late for me…"

"It is never too late, brother," she pleaded. "Dathrys, please…"

He hauled her up to her feet, his fist flashing across her cheek, splitting skin and drawing blood.

She turned, just to see his sword flashing towards her.

Stars.

"Brother…"

Blood streamed down his face.

"Forgive me, Náonin," he murmured. His pendant found its way into her hand. "I deserve this not…"

His kiss tasted of iron and rain…

Of vanilla and… of the last night…

She almost smiled, the arms around her dissipating with the blood drenching her ruined body.

* * *

><p>Eragon's throat would have gone dry from his scream.<p>

"NO!"

An arrow sprouted from his leg as he stumbled, grabbing a knife from his thigh, throwing it as the knife jabbed into the archer thing's forehead, toppling over the abomination. Gritting his teeth, he snapped the arrow, yelling with pain. Forcing himself to accept the pain like Sarissa had taught him, he half-crawled up to Bladesinger, Dathrys vanishing as he rushed to catch his friend.

"Náonin," he managed weakly, cradling her head in his arms.

She coughed up blood, her hand weakly grasping his. Blood coated her fingers, her own lifeblood, slowly dripping away with the seconds, her life trickling away with it like the last few grains of sand in an hourglass.

"Go," she whispered. "Tell… Him… tell.. Wolf… I forgive him… Give him my sword… Promise me…"

"No," he protested, tears rising unbidden to his eyes. "No, no! Give it to him yourself, tell him yourself! Live, dammit, no more! I'm not strong enough, Náonin, I'm not strong enough, I'm just not! I can't lose you, I can't lose any more people I love… Please… Leave me not… _Eitha eka neo_…"

She smiled weakly, kissing his hand.

"This hand will slay the king," she whispered, taking his other hand. "This hand will raise a great ruler, just and fair. Hold me Eragon… I long for warmth…"

He enveloped her in his scarred, bloodied arms, gentle and powerful, the iron muscles toned from months of training and battle, scarred from his pains and his fights with this world.

"When the world fadeth from thine eyes," she murmured, feeling his gentle touch against her cheek. The pain from the gash their eased, no doubt due to his magic. She knew it was draining him. And yet he still tried his all to make her comfortable. "When the rain ceaseth… When thou feeleth the first warmth in eons…"

She opened her beautiful, beautiful eyes, looking up at her brother.

"Thou knowst life shall endeth well…"

Smiling, she closed her eyes, nestling her shuddering head deeper into his embrace.

She didn't speak again.

But as the rain drifted away as if feeling they had given him enough sorrows, they let through the first touch of light Eragon had felt from the sun in days. And he knew her soul had begun its journey down the starlit path.

"Farewell, sister…"

As if her spirit heard his last words to her, a gentle wind graced his body with warm air.

_Farewell, brother. May the grace of the stars be ever in your favor._

He closed his eyes, letting the breeze flow around him.

_When the world fadeth from thine eyes… When the rain ceaseth… When thou feeleth the first warmth in eons… Thou knowst life shall endeth well…_

_Deep breath, Eragon… Let it all out…_

And the long-held cry of anguish, the cry of a man who had seen too many loved ones pass on, the cry of one left behind too long, the cry mourning a thousand souls rang across a blood stained field filled with the bodies of the underworld that would never be at peace.

* * *

><p><em>Roses. Hundreds upon thousands of blood-red roses rained from the sky, softly falling about him, the silken petals caressing his skin.<em>

Good evening, Eragon.

_He looked beside him to see Bladesinger—no… He knew her true name now. Náonin. That was her name. She walked alongside him, wearing a shimmering dress of white, the fabric as beautiful as a swan's coat of feathers, flowing, wondrous. She smiled at him._

Hello, brother.

_He looked around him._

This is a dream…

Are you happy?

_He hesitated._

Yes…

_She took his hand, pulling him gently through the storm of flowers._

Then it is a good dream.

_They walked through the flying petals, the velvet lips of the flower-leaves kissing his arms and neck and face, settling on the shoulders of his formal tunic, pure white and gold._

What is this dream for?_ he asked softly._

Does a good dream need a reason?_ Náonin asked in return._

_He had no words to reply to that._

Dance with me, brother,_ she smirked, gently spinning him towards her._

_He couldn't help the small grin that graced his lips._

With pleasure, sister.

_And the two danced, blood-siblings, bound by pain, bound by companionship and a promise. They danced through the falling roses, the bright red contrasting to their white clothes, the ground covered in the flowers. The ruins of a once-great building surrounded them, but it was lost in their slow, easy dance. They swayed and twisted to the music of their lifesong, dancing in tandem for their blood sang as one._

You are the last now, Eragon. The last of many things,_ she whispered into his ear, her head leaning upon his strong shoulder._

I always was,_ he sighed._

Even more so now. I am sorry I put such a burden on you… But it will make you stronger. You are strong enough, Eragon, I promise. I will always be with you.

_She gently stopped them, taking a ring from her finger, milky-white, like the soft silver light of the moon on a cloudless night. Slipping it onto his finger, she unclasped the pendants she wore, two identical symbols, one blood red like the roses, the other the brightest blue like her eyes._

As Lord of the Order, I name thee, Eragon Shadeslayer, my successor. Farewell, brother. I love you to the ends of the world and back,_ she murmured, leaving a sweet, vanilla-tasting kiss upon his lips._

Don't leave me,_ he pleaded weakly._

I will never have left you, Eragon. Not in your soul and heart.

* * *

><p>Translation: <em>Eitha Eka Neo <em>(title) – Leave Me Not

* * *

><p>TN: nothing's mine surprisingly xD<p>

* * *

><p>AN: And you got the weakness you were waiting for… and a little bit more of BladesingerNáonin's past. I promise this won't be the last time you see her ;) she'll make her appearance even in whatever sequel I write because she, like I told someone, is like Eragon's second Brom. She will always come back, because just like Eragon begged her not to leave him, she will never leave him~

Wondrous-Serendipity – thank you! and I hope my email explained everything!~ lol I decided I might as well upload while I have time

ReadingForHours – That'd be right now xD thank you!~


	35. Eka Van'r Ono

**Chapter 34 – **_**Eka Van'r Ono**_

"_I hate the feeling of missing someone. It… Feels like a cold spot in the center of your chest. Like a black, icy void. And slowly, it sucks the very life out of you, leaving you listless and tired and weary for no reason at all. It's like a dream where you are falling to your death, and then right before you hit the ground, the person you miss comes and you wake up. It's a different hell all itself."_

_~Eragon Shadeslayer, Bromsson, last Free Dragon Rider, Heir Lord of Vroengard, Lord Master of the Hands of Death, mate of the former Lady Mistress Sarissa_

Murtagh watched the cloaked man warily.

"You speak as if you know much, Lord Dathrys."

The being chuckled.

"The world of demons has eyes and ears everywhere, as did the order. Your master and I have much in common, young rider. Strange, how we both betrayed our orders. I suppose someday I shall become more like him."

"Then I pity you."

Laughter.

"Aye, you have spirit. You shall be an interesting one to watch. Come, I wish to speak with you, Murtagh Morzanson, you intrigue me."

And so they walked. Lord of demons, and lord of the Imperial Army. Two crimson-red lords bound to fate.

Fire burned between them.

Fire melted.

And the bonds of fate grew but a little weaker.

* * *

><p>Arya shot up as the horn blew, "Rider Eragon is back!" the lookout cried. "He returns by the Eastern Gate! Open the gates!"<p>

Already she could hear the roar of a jubilant dragoness, a huge shadow draping the ground as Saphira flew overhead.

She swiftly drew a light cloak over her shoulders, slipping into the comfortable leather shoes she preferred while she wasn't traveling, flying down the flights of stairs of her tower.

The gates were open by the time she reached the bottom, Eragon handing the reins of his magnificent stallion to a stable boy, talking quietly to Roran in hushed tones, nodding and then gesturing wildly as the two cousins grew agitated about something, Roran looking worriedly at the lands beyond Belatona. Seeing their urgency, she slowed down her pace, somewhat disappointed, waiting patiently in the shadow of the wall.

Saphira landed with a huge _thud_, the dragoness nuzzling his chest lovingly, snorting smoke through her huge nostrils, the two companions talking through their bond. Eragon kissed her scaly forehead, scratching the soft leathery skin beneath her jaw, the mighty hunter thrumming with contentment. Roran smiled, until Saphira swept him up in her wing, a great sapphire eye glancing over to where Arya was waiting. She nudged Eragon before carefully licking up, launching herself into the sky, Roran scrambling atop her back.

Eragon's eyes snapped over to her with the speed of an arrow, his burning eyes calming down as the warmth she was so familiar with overcoming those usually-cold irises. She smiled, curtseying slightly.

He murmured something to a soldier, patting his shoulder before striding over to her, and in the next instant, she could feel his powerful, iron arms around her, his warm breath tickling her neck. Her arms circled around his neck as she couldn't help the small laugh that escaped her. Luckily the soldiers hadn't noticed their little hideaway, giving them a little privacy.

The feather-light kiss he graced upon her neck somehow sent more shivers than her memories of her last kiss with Fäolin.

"_Eka van'r ono_," he whispered against her skin, the warm breeze of his wonderful life-wind warming her whole body from head to toe despite the cool of the late winter breeze.

She kissed his jaw, letting the frightening feelings she had always fought course through her, consume her, burn her from the inside out.

"I missed you too, my lord," she smiled. "Come, you look exhausted, Eragon. You need rest."

* * *

><p>"What was the journal you spoke of?" he asked as she brought him a cup of warm tea, handing it to him as she sat by his side.<p>

"I thought you would ask for it," she sighed, picking up a small, hand-bound book of aging parchment pages. Handing it to him, she studied his face as he carefully flipping through the words.

He was handsome. Extremely handsome… He had changed a lot though. Most women would just see his beauty, ethereal, angelic, powerful, like a divine creature. But she could see the change in him. The growing pain and anguish. He was aging ten times too fast. The war had taken its toll. She could see the weariness in his eyes, the rippling muscles on his forearms, the strong curve of his jaw, his sharp, soul-piercing eyes. What scared her most was what she couldn't see.

His childish playfulness.

It was all but gone now. Replaced by a machine of war, powerful, nearly infallible, a beacon of hope to the Varden, but beneath the calm, charismatic façade, she saw cold ice. It worried her. Gave her nightmares.

She missed his playfulness. She missed the Eragon she had fallen in love with. She loved him no less as he was now. She knew it was necessary. But perhaps after the war was over… He could come back to her as he first had, a young child with a stupid infatuation with her.

Without knowing, she had gazed too long, for his eyes were now looking up at her, their eyes locked, hers unable to look away. There was a strange familiarity to his eyes… One that was not Eragon.

"Your eyes have changed yet again, Eragon," she said softly.

His eyebrows furrowed.

"They have?"

Now that was unplanned for.

"They have a strange tone to it now," she said, trying to explain what had changed. It was hard. "Sharper. Clearer. More piercing and powerful."

He blinked, his fingers reaching up to a necklace she had not seen before.

A shining blue pendant of a soaring eagle hung from his neck, gently pulsing with a soft light, reassuring, enrapturing.

"Bladesinger," he breathed.

Arya gently took his hand, "Eragon… What's wrong?"

He shook his head, getting off the bed as he walked to the window, throwing open the two glass panels, taking a deep breath. The winter air swept in, blowing a few papers askew, but no goose bumps rose on his skin.

"She died."

She drifted over to him, putting her fur cloak around his powerful shoulders.

"Bladesinger?"

He nodded tiredly.

"I… No… Never mind… Strange too… How she died. By a lord of demons."

"A demon lord?" she asked in surprise.

He sighed, pulling the window shut as he turned around, shedding the cloak as he cloaked her in his embrace.

"Aye. Dathrys, she called him. Brother. Lord. Friend. I know not."

The name somehow seemed familiar, like the reason was on the tip of her tongue, but then his lips stole the word from her mouth, his warm kiss sending her mind reeling over the edge of sanity.

"I've waited so long to do that," he rasped against her lips.

"Shut up," she muttered, kissing him again.

* * *

><p>"Milord!"<p>

Eragon came crashing to the floor as Aelwyn tackled him in a beautifully aimed dive, his breath leaving him with a solid _oomph_ as she landed on top of him, straddling him playfully, a huge smile on her full lips.

"A good evening to you too, Aelwyn," he chuckled, shaking his head, now used to his friend's greetings.

Arya smiled, watching Eragon trying to get off the ground, Aelwyn casually pinning him to the ground. A slight pang of jealousy, but that was all she felt. She knew Aelwyn by now, and also that her affections lied somewhere other than her lord, master, and friend.

"Are you ever going to greet me with a simple hug?" the Rider asked, trying to break her hold on him.

"Unless it would put you in danger, no," she grinned.

The door opened, a familiar figure walking into the council room, "Aelwyn, we need Eragon to be able to talk without you atop him or without him struggling to get up," Nasuada smirked.

Eragon shrugged helplessly as Aelwyn spun around, crossing her legs as she refused to get off of him.

"Aelwyn, please have a heart, you're hurting more areas than just my pride."

Roran walked in, his eyes widening when he saw the scene, Aelwyn sitting atop of a very red Eragon, Arya and Nasuada trying not to laugh.

"Eragon, this is not a really wonderful place to be bedding women," the hammer-wielding commander grumbled.

That was enough to send the five warriors into a good, long laughter.

* * *

><p>"Bladesinger left me her ring and these two pendants. And Blödhgarm, she asked me to give you this."<p>

Eragon held out her blade.

The elven spellweaver looked up in surprise.

"She wielded this sword?"

"The only sword she used."

He gently took the weapon from his liege's hands, his eyes shimmering with an emotion Eragon didn't know Blödhgarm could ever show.

Uncertainty. Weakness.

The elf quickly wiped all emotion off his face, bowing.

"I thank you with all my heart, _Shur'tugal_, you do not know how much this means to me."

"'Tis an honor, friend."

He looked at the present members of the Varden war council.

"I have somewhere to travel to. If the council will allow it, I wish for Arya to accompany me, and if they will, Calayn and her brother, along with Aelwyn. Of course, this time I will wish for Saphira to be alongside me. I apologize that I have not been present amongst the Varden very much for many of the past days and weeks, but my fate seems to call me off in multiple directions at once."

General Anwar looked over at Nasuada and Orrin.

"Eragon, your absence is acceptable, but would it be alright what the purpose of your last trip was? And if possible, the purpose of this trip?"

The Dragon Rider hesitated.

"The last trip was for no real reason, to be honest. I have learned that my heart draws me to the places I need to be, and during my trip, I was accompanied by Bladesinger, if any of you remember her, and we traveled the eastern border of the Hadarac. I have talked to Captain Damítha of the Sílthrim guard, and I have gained her favor along with the nobles of the city, along with a few other, smaller elven cities along the borderline. They have offered their services in the coming battle."

Nasuada nodded approvingly, "And what of Bladesinger? Her advice would be highly valuable, as would her presence on the battlefield."

Eragon looked up, his gaze steely, betraying none of the weakness Arya had seen yesterday.

"She has fallen, and bestowed upon me another title and another duty and task I must carry out. That is the purpose of this trip. I travel to Beirland."

That also felt extremely familiar to Arya.

His eyes caught hers, his mind surrounding hers in a protective manner, softly slipping through her barriers.

_The journal._

Her eyes snapped wide open.

_Dathrys. Lord Dathrys. Army of demons. Doorstep. Bladelord. Bladesinger._

He nodded almost invisibly.

Saphira stuck her snout in, filling the whole tent with a puff of smoke, everyone coughing.

_Finally, the fool decides to take his dragon along with him_, she teased.

He smiled.

_Of course._

* * *

><p>The darkness of dusk found a lone Dragon Rider sitting atop a tower, watching the stars twinkling as the night birds sang and flew about. Some birds were returning early from the south, and already some were at Belatona's gardens.<p>

"The nights are cold these days, _Shur'tugal_, yet you venture from the warmth of the princess' embrace to be alone. Why?"

He turned, Blödhgarm's silent tread giving nothing away as the wolf-elf walked along the rampart, easily leaping atop the tower's roof.

Bladesinger—no, Náonin's blade hung at his hip.

"And you venture from the warmth of your thoughts to come seek me out?" he smiled wearily, moving to the side so his friend and protector could join him.

"Aye."

The elf hesitated, sighing deeply.

"It seems that the war will leave no time for stories after."

Blödhgarm reached out, his fingers stopping a little away from Eragon's temple.

"May I, _Shur'tugal_?"

Eragon nodded.

* * *

><p><em>It was a few years later. Blödhgarm knew not anymore. Few years, a few decades, they passed listlessly as he toiled through his exercises, growing in strength and ferocity, in focus and intelligence, power and skill. He practiced his swordsmanship and spellweaving daily, along with reading through an endless pile of books. The hermit, they called him, the lone sage, the sage warrior, the one who toils, he had too many names to count. He cared not.<em>

_Listless._

_Funny, how he could now find another meaning for that word._

_List-less. His tasks had no reason, nor did he plan them, he did them not for anyone, not for himself. He did them so the grief and lack of life wouldn't consume him. So he could continue on._

_For her sake._

_He had accepted Lord Evandar's request to train a group of promising warriors, and they lived with him in separate homesteads in his everglade of sorrows. They had grown used to his random calls to train, his silent watching, his silent reprimands, the way he never spoke to them, the way he never spoke at all. He never sang, never laughed, never talked, never hummed or made sound except for the occasional sigh or grunt in approval or disapproval. His rare smiles, the way his forehead crinkled when he thought, the way he moved in utter silence save the gentle swish of his robes. Dragon Riders visited very frequently, his plains being an easy place to rest before moving on to wherever they needed to be. They also helped train the young ones and some even came by request of Vrael to stay for a few years and watch the students and help them when Blödhgarm could not. Vrael himself had come and given the students many lessons during his stay. But they never stayed too long. In the end, it would always just be Blödhgarm and the five. The late nights they would stay out, he taught them everything he knew, learning as he watched them train, and then forging swords for them, each fit to match their style perfectly. Those he kept in his wardrobe, waiting for the day he knew would come when they would go off to war, probably never to return._

_Return._

_When would she return…_

_Múona walked over to him, her flaxen hair of moonlight flowing about her._

"Ebrithil_, is it ok if I speak with you?" she asked, bowing slightly to him._

_He nodded, sweeping his arm out to the seats around him, his hermit's robes swaying gracefully as always. Grace. A strange word that was… One he wished would come into his life once more. Undeserving kindness… He needed that… Badly._

"Ebrithil_, why do you seem so passionless?"_

_He looked up at her, his eyes holding shock and confusion._

_His pupil gazed at him, and the frightening thing he saw was the fact that he saw nothing but adoration and care._

_Loyalty._

_They said loyalty hurt unless you were a god._

_And he knew it did._

_But for some reason, he smiled that wonderfully weary, caring smile his trainees had come to love so much._

_He shook his head, gently taking her hands in his, pressing a quiet kiss to her knuckles in his fatherly way, gliding away, without a word as always. She stared after him, wondering what hidden words lay beneath his veneer of absolute silent strength and power._

_What lay beneath the emotionless face he always wore._

* * *

><p><em>It was nearly time. Masters of everything he had taught, his five students stood before him, dressed in their finest clothes, the first of the Hands of the Elves. Lord, soon-to-be King, Evandar stood beside Blödhgarm, robes, stood at the top of the podium, all of Ellesmera watching with pride.<em>

"_Today, we stand here as a testimony to these five young elves, trained for two centuries, hardened our greatest teachers, taught by the greatest mentors, and now ready to become leaders of the elven nation. I thank you, Blödhgarm-_elda_, for your dedication, your silent teachings, I have talked with all of them and I find them wise in spirit and mind. You have taught them well."_

_Blödhgarm simply bowed to the cheering of a hundred thousand elves._

"_El'tauthr, step forward."_

_His best student in war walked up the ten steps to bow to them, Blödhgarm first, who nodded his final approval, before kneeling in front of Evandar._

"_Your sword, my son. May it serve you well, and may you wield it with honor. Forged by the hands of your master and mentor and teacher, there is none like it. Your name is no longer El'tauthr to us, warrior. Your name shall be Fyrn'gala. Bear the name with pride. I name you captain and commander of Osilon, protector of the western forests."_

_The new captain of the western forest stood up, accepting the marvelous blade, bowing one last time before walking to the side, standing as he watched his closest friends become captains and commanders of the elven kingdoms._

_Sundavar, now named Mikil'trea, guardian of Ellesméra._

_Takalr, renamed Heíl'ring, protector of Nädindel_

_Váena, now Damítha, captain of Sílthrim._

_And Múona. Kind, wonderful Múona, now called Náonin, the guardian abroad and Captain of Ilirea._

_Proud was an understatement._

_And that feeling was the first emotion Blödhgarm felt in countless years other than grief and nothingness._

_Pride._

_Pride for his students._

_Pride for his _friends.

* * *

><p><em>The celebration was loud, something Blödhgarm found disconcerting after all those years of seclusion. Wordlessly excusing himself, he slipped outside of the city boundaries, listening to the now-distant sounds of the singing and laughter of the thousands of elves of Ellesméra. He loved the peace of his everglades. He knew that the utter silence would be hard to get used to though. He would truly miss his students. Strangely enough, he considered them his friends, and even they, though hundreds of years younger, loved to tease him and call him brother and friend. It was nice. To have company.<em>

"Ebrithil_, this is a celebration not just for us," a familiar voice said, a beautiful smile behind the soft words._

_He held out his arm, letting Múona, now Náonin hold onto it like she loved to do, the two, master and pupil walking together through the forests._

_The night was beautiful. The full moon gleamed, giving Náonin's hair a wondrous halo of light around her. The night birds sang and sang away, reminding him of memories he wished to burn in his endless toiling, but the flames only vanished under his silent tears._

_He indicated her sword, his eyes asking the question his lips would not._

_She smiled, "_Ebrithil_, the sword is more than anything I could have ever asked for. It is beautiful, and I nearly forgot to thank you in my excitement. _Elrun eka_, _ebrithil. Wiol h'vanla_."_

_He inclined his head, smiling proudly, speaking with the happiness that graced his fair features._

_They kept walking, soon reaching a small waterfall, Náonin drawing the sword he had forged. It was not the work of Rhunön-_elda_, but it was beautiful beyond words. It was quite similar to his own sword, which Rhunön _had_ forged. Their styles were around the same, depending on momentum, speed, precision, and constant movement. It was a tiring way to fight, but when fighting against a single opponent, it was extremely effective. He switched to a more graceful form when against multiple enemies, something he had taught her, and he had let her use his own sword when training like that, showing her everything he had taught himself._

"_I know not what to name such a wonderful blade such as this," she murmured._

_Wordlessly waving his fingers, a glowing red word burned down the side of the katana-like sword._

Evarí'datia.

_She smiled, the engraving cooling in the clear, fresh air of the night._

"_Evarí'datia," she breathed. "Misty stars… Yes…"_

_He shed his cloak as he tossed it along the banks, taking off his tunic as he walked into the water, his simple tunic and pants a familiar sight to Náonin. It was the same kind of clothes he wore at his home while he taught them history and philosophies of all sorts, of the elves, humans, even of the dwarves and urgals. He always told them as leaders of the elves, they would need to know of all races of Alagaësia, not just the elves. She quickly slipped out of her dress, Blödhgarm tossing her his tunic wordlessly and courteously, respecting her modesty. She took his hand as they walked through the shallow water, something they and the others had always done, sometimes for lessons, mostly for fun, or for Blödhgarm's amusement in a war of water weaving. She stopped near the center of the small pond, quietly hugging him, enjoying the embrace of her mentor. He somewhat smiled, holding her as the birds around them sang and fluttered about despite the darkness of night._

_Then she did something completely unplanned for._

_She kissed him._

_It was a chaste, gentle kiss, not wanting, not lustful, not demanding and passionate, but sweet and slow, wordless and silent. Just like him._

_Just like her._

_He had refused the love of any woman for centuries. Ever since she had left, he had chosen to stay alone. For three centuries, he had lived alone, thought alone, been alone. Now, here he was, his lips tasting the nectar-tasting mouth of someone he had spent two-hundred years training and teaching and helping._

_And nothing seemed wrong._

_No… on the contrary. Everything seemed wonderfully, beautifully, stupidly _right_._

_She reluctantly pulled away, her piercing, soulful sea-blue eyes gazing into his hazel ones._

"_Blödhgarm…"_

_For some reason, the way his name rolled off the tongue he had just tasted sent shivers down his back._

"_Náonin…"_

_His first word in three-hundred years. The first word that had left his mouth in more than three centuries, and strangely enough, it was the name of a woman, just like the last word he had said so long ago._

_She laughed, laughed and cried, burying her face in his neck, hugging him tightly, her tears dampening his cloak, but he didn't mind._

_It felt_ right_._

_It felt_ beautiful.

_It felt… no. _He _felt. He felt _emotion.

_She leaned back, shaking her head with awe, her tears diminishing none of her beauty as she looked at him, her fingers delicately tracing his perfect face._

"_Blödhgarm… Your voice is beautiful… Say my name again, please," she whispered._

"_Náonin," he smiled, letting the thrill of feeling once again rush through his body. Life. So this was life. So this was living._

_So this was actually _living_…_

_Then she kissed him again._

_Fire. Fire he had ignored for so long, fire she rekindled and the burning couldn't stop. His sorrows weren't enough to hide this hidden want he didn't even know existed deep within his chained soul that had been begging for release._

_Now she had freed his soul._

_Fire._

_Fire, fire, fire. Burn, burn, burn. Passion, fire, burn. It all came crashing down in the cool water of the stream in a dance of love and dominance._

_Burn. She burned him. She gave him fire. And he returned it with more fervor than ever. Her quiet moans, his gentle kisses, the butterfly touches that turned her aflame._

_Fire. Fire burn, fire dance, fire spread and dominate, fire burn brighter than the stars and the sun. Fire glow with the beauty of the moon, fire kill like the flames of the spellweaver, fire burn for a lifetime, fire burn for eternity, fire burn this night._

* * *

><p><em>It had been two decades since that night.<em>

_Their relationship was strained and strange. Friends, lovers, companions, master and mentor, there were so much complication and confusion._

_Yet here she was, standing before him, with a task he could not do._

"_Blödhgarm, the Bladelords asked me to convey their wishes to you. They want you to join their ranks."_

_He shook his head, "Náonin, I would give my life to be alongside you… But I cannot do this. Islanzadí needs my advice and my counsel, and Arya needs someone to care for her. Evandar is gone. Our king is gone, my love, I cannot leave the elven kingdom when the queen herself asked me to stay… My life is mine to give, my duty is not mine to push away… I am sorry…"_

_She bit her lip._

"_Blödhgarm…"_

_He shook his head, gently kissing her._

"_Náonin, do not… please… this decision is hard as it is, do not make it harder for me…"_

"_Blödhgarm, it's not that… The Bladelords are not allowed to associate so much with personal lives outside of the order… They wish for me to stop seeing you so frequently… I don't know if I can see you anymore…"_

_It took a few moments for him to comprehend her words._

"_I…"_

_She hugged him._

"_Blödhgarm… Do you love me?..."_

"_Yes," he whispered. "Yes, I love you, Náonin…"_

_She looked up at him, her glistening eyes pleading him._

"_Then find another. Let me go. Your life is too beautiful to waste on me when we cannot be together. Promise me. No matter how long it takes. Find another woman you can call your own… Give her the love you gave me… Make her feel as wonderful as you made me feel…"_

"_Náonin…"_

"_No!" she snapped. "No… Please… For me… I cannot bear to see you alone again…"_

"_I… I promise… _Eka hêitha_…"_

_That was their last night together. Duty. Damn that cursed word from the land of the living. Send it to the depths of the underworld so the dead could toil to their duty, let the living enjoy the short lives they had._

_A few years later, he sent her a letter._

Dear Náonin,

I wish I could say I had held true to my promise for your sake, but I have not… Not yet at least. I apologize. For everything. That my duty tore me away from you. Even to this day I wish I could have left with you, and it toys with my mind for days and weeks and years. I am… Sorry. I love you. Forgive me.

~Blödhgarm

_He wanted to write so much more. He wanted to beg her to leave the order. He wanted to beg her to come to him. He wanted to see her, kiss her, hold her, tell her how much he needed her and missed her and loved her._

_But he couldn't._

_Why…_

_And that question echoed through his head for the next century._

_Why._

_Why did she die?_

_Why did fate have to tear us apart?_

_Why did I not follow her?_

_Why is duty so cruel…_

_I miss you, Náonin…_

_And so slowly, he changed. Emotionally. Physically. Until he was unrecognizable. He ran with the wild to forget his pain. He hunted with the wolves to vent out his anger of the harsh paths of destiny that took him away from her. He served to bury his past under a mountain of duty. That damned duty. That star-damned, fate-damned, destiny-damned duty._

_Duty._

Eragon looked up to see Blödhgarm's eyes on his.

The old Blödhgarm.

His eagle eyes were gone, his blue fur was gone, the fangs gone. A lithe, powerfully built elf, handsome, regal, long, shining gold hair falling to his chest, a cloak of silver and gold wrapped around him.

He bowed.

"And now you know some of my story, _Shur'tugal_. And some of Náonin's."

"Blödhgarm…"

He shook his head, "_Shur'tugal_, your pity is not for me. Save it for those who need it. I live to serve you. Nothing more. And please… I wish to be rid of the name Blödhgarm. The past haunts me. And no longer does the life of the blood-wolf suit me."

Eragon inclined his head.

The unnamed elf hesitated for a moment, pondering his new name.

"Calélas."

Calélas smiled sadly, as if knowing he had bound himself to a fated name.

"Aye. Call me Calélas."

* * *

><p>Translation: <em>Eka Van'r Ono<em> (title) – I Miss You

_Ebrithil_ - master

_El'tauthr_ (name) – variation of _eld tauthr_, meaning Follower

_Fyrn'gala _(name) – combination of _fyrn_ and _gala_, meaning War Cry

_Sundavar _(name) – Shadow

_Mikil'trea _(name) – combination of _mikila_ and _treavam_, meaning Great Tree

_Takalr _(name) – combination of _taka_ and _allr_, meaning Give All

_Heíl'ring_ (name) – combination of _heíll_ and _thringa_, meaning Healing Rain

_Váena_ (name) – Fair, beautiful

_Damítha _(name) – variation of _dauthrima_, meaning Dream Mask

_Múona _(name) – Passionate love

_Náonin _(name) – combination of _náoa_ and _nîn_, meaning Innocent Child

_Elrun eka, ebrithil. Wiol h'vanla _– Thank you, master. For everything.

_Evarí'datia_ (sword name) – combination of _evarínya _and _datia_, meaning Misty Stars (Stars Misty)

_Eka hêitha _– I promise

_Calélas_ (name) – Old Elvish, roughly translating to "one of a sad story" or "one whose fate holds sorrow"

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><p>TN: Holy God in heaven like everything is mine xD just <em>ebrithil<em>, _Sundavar_, _eka_, and _ono_ are completely Paolini's, I changed the others to fit ^^ I hope the names sound elvish… I swear some of them sound Dwarvish o.o;;

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><p>OK QUICK QUESTION I WOULD HONESTLY LIKE ANSWERS IF YOU GUYS HAVE A MOMENT TO LIKE REVIEW AND ANSWERI was thinking that after i finish this story, before i dive into a huge sequel that will take me probably twice as long to finish, how about i tell the story of Blödhgarm and the five? and maybe little tales of their problems and how they met, the blood-wolf's past, why he was so passionless and listless? would this interest you in any way shape or form? please just add a small note in your reviews if you would~<p>

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><p>AN: This chapter… was strangely poetic o.o I don't know, I guess when I get tired and I'm thinking about other… more personal things, I write like this Dx I'm sorry if it bothers you… maybe I should make the fire bits into a poem… LOL oh well, now I explain BlödhgarmCalélas' background story more :) I hope you enjoyed it… well, if you cried or was sad or wanted to hug the furry dude, that means you enjoyed it, but whatever xD all of the five will reappear, Fyrn'gala of Osilon, Mikil'trea of Ellesméra, Heíl'ring of Nädindel, Damítha of Sílthrim, and Náonin the Wandering Bladelord and former Captain of Ilirea, and they will all play a big part later, promise, so keep an eye out for them~

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><p>Dessert Maniac – LOL actually, I'm the Jack Sparrow of writing, I plan half the things I do, and then go along with how things go the other half xD but thank you :D<p>

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><p>Darth Feanor – she'll do much more work from the spirit world~ xD thank youuu and for your continual support too :)<p>

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><p>Wondrous-Serendipity – did I ever mention your name is quite interesting? Lol I like it<p>

Anyways, the order will be explained more in the next chapter, as will the meaning of the ring and pendants :D thank you for reading~

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><p>Restrained Freedom – o.o;; this one is pretty despair-ful too.. I'm sorry I didn't get to add in Murtagh too much D: I would have but I couldn't figure out a good way to fit him into the chapter Dx I'll try as much as I can~ and thank you so much for everything :) you've been there in this story since the prologue and I find that very helpful xD<p>

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><p>Phoenix1592 – I find your reviews interesting and amusing to read, I have no idea why LOL but yes :) I hope you find this story interesting~<p>

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><p>Mogget0607 – thank you!~ I hope this chapter was a surprise too xD I try to keep things up my sleeve to throw at you guys sooo.. ;) hope you enjoy how this story goes though~ thanks :D<p>

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><p>Thepalehorseman234 – I saved your review for the last so I could explain xD no I don't really know what that chi stuff is o.o;; but the vein is like the strand of life and existence that the being has, it doesn't have to be alive to have this vein, if it exists, it has a vein. It has energy that, by itself, it replenishes, by eating, by sunlight, some way or form, it replenishes the energy it has, but it has a limit. By taking that strand, that vein of existence, it completely and utterly wipes the thing off the face of existence, and absorbs the energy, and thus the being who took the vein has its vein, and then the vein it took, so the person essentially has more energy to draw upon now. The grass vein is weak, so it won't make much of a difference to Eragon, but say he took the vein of… like a powerful shade or spellweaver, he would have so much more energy, but in the underworld, the being would no longer exist, but the soul lives on because souls are… no time to explain that, I'll need to come up with something for that xD but the soul technically can't exist so it's harder for them to find the afterlife, so that's why it's so harmful to take the vein of a living creature, even more so for sentient creatures. Does that make a little more sense? o.o;;<p> 


	36. Nya

**Chapter 35 – **_**Nya**_

"_The thought bothers me. Are monsters born or made? Are killers born or pushed off the edge? Is an evil man born or created? Is hatred there from the start, or is it cultivated? Is every dark shadow in this world slowly grown, or like in nature, is there always the one with defect, the one born with black fur?"_

"_Why do you wonder?"_

"_Sometimes… Many times, I wonder if I'm becoming a monster."_

_~Eragon Shadeslayer (first speaker) and Arya Dröttningu (second speaker)_

Saphira looked up as the quick shadow slipped into her chamber, snorting softly as she held her wing open, her rider depositing himself in her warm shelter.

_It has been a long time since you slept in my wing, little fool_, she teased, nuzzling his chest tenderly.

He smiled, kissing her snout as he leaned against her warm scales, feeling the familiar comfort of his life's bond-partner.

_I'm sorry, Saphira… I've just been so busy these past few months, I guess I haven't been able to spend enough time with you._

The dragoness sent her love to him through their bond, reassuring him of her understanding.

_You should bring her here, she's woken up alone enough times. If I could count the number of times I found her asleep in my wings in the morning, I would have numbered half the stars in the skies._

_She's that restless?_

_She is without you._

* * *

><p>Calélas bowed, "Safe journey, <em>Shur'tugal<em>, I shall await your return and look over them in your absence."

Eragon nodded, putting a hand on the former blood-wolf's shoulder.

"_Nya_."

The new elf smiled broadly and confidently, inclining his head.

"_Nya_," he said softly.

The Dragon Rider hesitated.

_I have a gift for you. Before Blödhgarm is completely gone._

Reaching up, Eragon gently tapped the elf's temple.

_Náonin glanced at the fairth._

_It took all her willpower not to break in a million pieces._

_She picked up the letter, reading it for the millionth time over, the words burned into her memories. The gentle, elegant strokes of the quill, the way she knew his writing from all those years she had spent tutored by him._

_Blödhgarm._

_Just his name was like being pierced by a sword from heaven._

_Blödhgarm. Blödhgarm. Blödhgarm…_

_One day she would leave her titles behind._

_One day she would just be content with being his lover._

_And the tears fell. One by one, one after the other, chasing each other to the ground. And as those three sacred words graced the air of the room, the stormy clouds slowly started to part, letting the sun through._

"_I love you…"_

Hazel eyes blinked. Eagle eyes. Blödhgarm's eyes. Then back to the hazel ones of Calélas.

A tiny smile. Not confident. No, it was the smile of a lost battle, the joy of finally being at peace. The smile of a dying man, the smile of someone who was at ease with his fate.

A smile of pained joy.

Calélas put a hand on Eragon's shoulder.

No words were needed.

* * *

><p>They set up camp near the coast of the southern shore, on the "horn" of the lower Spines, jutting out as a small peninsula.<p>

Eragon indicated he would take first watch, Aelwyn accepting the blanket Eragon threw to her, lying by the fire. Calayn curled her scaled body around her, her tail flicking slightly as the dreamwraith put a protective wing over the Hand.

The Rider set his weaponry down against the tree beside him, watching the dying flame crackle as sparks flew up and faded.

"You showed him something?"

He held out his hand, feeling Arya's velvet-skinned ones take his as she sat down next to him, sitting so she could face him.

"I just showed him a memory," he said, shrugging slightly as her thumb traced the lines of his palm, her fingers entwining with his.

"It's from her ring, is it not?"

He looked up at her in surprise, her reassuring smile illuminated by the fire. "It has the feel of a memory ring. Rare as they are, I know what they feel like. My mother wears one."

He nodded slowly, turning his gaze to the silvery-white ring on his right hand.

"It is the memory ring of her house, given to the eldest of the family."

"But…" she trailed off

He turned his right hand, showing her the scar from their promise, "We made a blood oath. It's the only reason I can wear this ring. Her blood runs in my veins now."

Silence.

Then she smirked.

"Well, you truly are an elf now, are you not?"

He chuckled dryly, shaking his head, "I suppose I am. And to think not too long ago I thought elves and dragons would never enter my life."

"And now?"

She yelped as he playfully tickled her side, smiling.

"And now I pray every day that the elf sitting beside me will never leave my life."

* * *

><p>Aelwyn woke up when a gentle hand shook her, "Aelwyn."<p>

She opened her eyes to find Eragon standing above her, his eyes glancing around warily.

She narrowed her eyes, slowly getting up as Eragon indicated the area around them, pulling his cloak's hood over his head as he slipped into the trees.

Aelwyn pulled a black cloak around her, hooding herself as she followed him into the darkness.

She found him a few feet away, silently watching the camp.

His startling eyes looked up at her, his finger against her lip as he motioned for her to watch the camp carefully.

She squinted her eyes, watching the shadows.

Movement.

She looked over at him in shock, finding him crouched, ready to leap out at whatever had made the bushes rustle.

Another rustle.

With a predator-like accuracy and strength, he sprung at the bush, crashing through as he solidly tackled the thing, pinning the startled being as he pinned the intruder's arms above his head.

"Who are you?" Eragon hissed

The thing cackled, "A messenger, Dragon Rider. From the great king who you owe your allegiance to."

"I owe that bastard nothing," he growled, hauling the painless soldier up by his collar.

"As you say, Rider," the soldier chuckled maniacally. "He knows your every move, Shadeslayer. He only stops you not out of amusement. You are all just toys in his hand, you are fighting a lost battle. When you realize what I say is true, you-."

Eragon tossed the headless man away, cleaning his long knife on the grass.

Then he heard the laughter of hundreds of unearthly voices.

Aelwyn stepped up beside him, cracking her neck as she stretched, her gauntlets clicking with ominous finality.

Eragon urgently shook Arya and Kalyn, waking Saphira with his mind, "Laughing dead," he snapped, roughly shaking Calayn as the dreamwraith snapped up, her scales clacking and scraping as she stood, shaking her head drowsily.

Arya stumbled dizzily, conjuring water and splashing her face in it, pushing her wet hair out of her eyes as she drew her sword, the small group of travelers waiting atop the hill as the laughter came closer, the dark forms of dozens of soldiers charged up the sloping ground.

Eragon smiled grimly, pulling his black-gold gauntlets on as he drew his katana, the razor-keen blade spinning through the air with a whir of metal.

"_Dwyn laéfa luthêr köra_," Aelwyn muttered, her long knives leaving their sheaths. "_Tual_ _laéf möra al'drafyn._"

He starting to walk down the hill, the battle chant echoing through his head.

With a blood-curdling cry, he cut down the first painless soldier, relishing in the silence of one less voice, the blood spraying around him, painting his face with death. Lashing out with his foot, he caught another in the chin, cracking the man's neck back as he threw the thing down on the charging soldiers. Aelwyn was suddenly beside him, her twin long knives cutting one's throat open, ducking to avoid the crossbow bolt that grazed her cheek, leaping off the head of one to crash into the archer, slashing through his neck, swinging the crossbow around into another's face. She laughed, and Eragon grinned with dark satisfaction as he swathed through the small army of painless soldiers, hacking them apart with frightening ease.

Then he found someone else fighting across from him, the being grabbing one of the soldiers by his neck, a sickening series of cracks coming as the painless man convulsed in the newcomer's grip. The man chuckled maliciously, casually tossing the dead man on the ground.

"Who are you?" Eragon demanded as he did a midair kick in his spin, breaking bone and teeth as he threw another one backwards.

Ignoring his question, the being held out his hand, muttering a word as a spear materialized in his palm, an eerily forbidding aura of crimson-orange surrounding the whole weapon. Without another word, he slammed the tip of the spear through another soldier's chest, using inhuman strength to lift the armored man off the ground, throwing him at a group of soldiers, running at them, the staff whirling as he beheaded one of them, breaking another's neck into an awkward angle with the staff part, kicking one to the ground before bringing the sunset-colored blade crashing down into the thing's face, ending another horrible laugh.

"Do not ask questions, Shadeslayer," the being snapped.

Raising a finger, he summoned lightning, turning a man behind him into ash, throwing Eragon back into action. He and the newcomer battled through the laughing dead, leaving a trail of dead behind them as Aelwyn and the others easily held their own, leaving the two warriors side-by-side.

Left, right, duck, weave, roll, jump, twist, slash, jab, parry, kick, he danced through the groups of the men without pain, the stranger behind him, protecting his blindside as they cut through the three-hundred or so soldiers.

Eragon stopped his strange ally from killing the last man, kicking the soldier up by the collar.

"Go tell Galbatorix to try harder."

He threw the man away, turning to the spear-wielding stranger.

Demonic-red eyes.

He strode forward, his fist crashing against Dathrys' face, throwing the demon lord to the blood-drenched ground.

"You," he snarled furiously. "Why are you here! Why did you help me?"

Dathrys calmly wiped the blood from his cheek away, wincing slightly as he felt the gashes left by Eragon's gauntlet.

"Those soldiers anger Death. They only delay what is coming for them. Death does not like that. I was sent to help you slaughter them. And give you a gift from my master."

Spinning his spear once, he held it out to him, staff-first.

"Cathali, the Night's Beauty Spear. The Spear of the Death Flower. Death has kept it hidden all these years, protecting the power of the Death Spear in fear that someone like Galbatorix would use its might for naught. He gives it to you, now, Shadeslayer."

Eragon stared.

"Why."

Dathrys smiled tiredly, "Dragon Rider, when Death gifts someone with something aside from the bliss of oblivion, it is a gift not to take lightly. If he wanted you dead, he would have told me to kill you alongside those abominations, but he wants you alive. He knows your time has not come yet."

The young Rider indicated for his companions to wait.

"Cathali, you called it."

"Aye."

Eragon accepted the spear, feeling the familiar bloodlust rage through him as he touched the handle, the deathly whispers telling him to murder dragons.

"Tell Lord Death I thank him."

Dathrys inclined his head, starting to walk away.

"I still have not forgiven you, Dathrys."

The former Bladelord slightly turned back, his eyes distant.

"Neither have I, Eragon. But look at your own face, Dragon Rider. And see if you have the strength to forgive yourself."

* * *

><p>Arya watched as the stranger vanished in a cloud of shadows, Eragon standing where he was, unmoving as he stilled, as if waiting for something.<p>

The beautiful spear in his hand fell to the ground as he fell to his knees, looking down at the ground.

"Eragon?..."

He looked up as she walked over to him, his eyes bright with tears, horror fluttering through his mix-matched irises.

"What do you see in my face, Arya," he whispered.

She knelt in front of him, gently taking his face in her hands.

"Why do you ask?" she murmured.

He shook his head, taking her hand and gently placing it a bit higher than his jaw.

Blood. And from the way she felt no wounds, it wasn't his blood.

"Bloodlust," he said hoarsely. "Bloodlust. I loved it. I killed, and I enjoyed it. What am I becoming, Arya…"

She tilted his face up with her slender fingers, swiping her thumb across his cheeks, creating twin crescents of blood. Wiping some of the blood off of his face, she drew identical arcs of blood on her face, feeling his bloodied hands gently take hers.

"You are becoming a warrior."

He looked down at the ground, the earth drunk with death and blood.

"I'm becoming a murderer."

He stood up shakily, handing her the spear, "Return to camp. I… will be back."

Without another word, he ran off into the forest towards the sound of crashing waves.

* * *

><p>He took a deep breath of the salty, moist air, the fresh scent instantly beginning to relax the turmoil inside of him.<p>

_Let it go, brother. Let the rage go. Let the lust go._

Another deep breath.

Eyes closed, he gently summoned the spirits of the ring, mists flowing around him as the souls of the past bearers appeared by him.

_Your worry is obvious, brother_, Náonin said softly, a cold hand gently brushing his cheek. _Why do you worry about your bloodlust? All warriors need a tiny bit of it._

"I cannot," he said softly. "I am not just a warrior. I am a Dragon Rider. I must be able to keep the peace. Not just massacre those who oppose it."

A spirit Eragon had not met before walked up, bowing respectfully.

_I may be able to help with this, blood-brother._

Eragon inclined his head politely.

The elven man stretched out his arms, crouching slightly.

'_Tis a dance, brother. A battle dance. Whenever you thirst to spill blood, let it all out in the fury of a battle dance._

The man quickly began to move his legs in a circular motion, doing a flip before landing on one foot, leaping up again in a double, full-circle spin before landing again.

Eragon easily recognized a few forms of sword-fighting in his predecessor's movements, the flowing style of _adurna_ in his kicks and his light-footed acrobatics, the more jerkish, less fluid, more forceful and powerful form of _sin'an_, the more high-flying trick based _sa'fura_. He watched the elf spin and whirl like a storm, his robes swirling with the wind and his movements. The elf indicated for him to follow his steps, Eragon vaulting over the elf's sliding kick, responding with a lash of his own. His partner dodged it with ease, his voice entering his mind.

_We attack to add to the dance, not to strike._

The Dragon Rider nodded, flipping over the elf's head, their cloaks brushing before they tore apart, flying towards each other again, legs and arms blurring between each other as they created a dance of war, using each other as platforms at times, Eragon rolling over the back of his opponent and partner, letting the elf push off his hand, using the boost to launch himself into the air.

Hours passed.

Neither warrior acknowledged the time, simply letting out pent-up rage and anger into the vengeful man-on-man war of movement and art.

When Eragon finally hit the ground for the last time, the elf nodded, offering him a hand up.

_Use the dance. It can do more than let out the lust for blood and killing. It can also kill and be your most dangerous weapon._

Eragon took the half-solid hand.

"Thank you."

With a slight tilt of the head, the spirit began to vanish.

"Wait!"

The spirit looked at him curiously, _Yes?_

"I know not your name. May I ask who you are?"

The being smiled warmly, bowing as he began to fade again.

_My name is Ely'than._

* * *

><p>Arya watched as Eragon soundlessly slipped back into the camp, his dark cloak masking his presence. He glanced over at her, smiling slightly before sitting in front of the nearly-dead fire, closing his eyes.<p>

His shoulders moved rhythmically as he took deep breaths, no doubt meditating.

Quietly getting up, she walked over to his side, taking her usual spot beside him, gently taking one of his hands. His fingers curled around hers protectively, otherwise unmoving as he took another deep breath.

_They suit you._

Eragon kept his eyes closed, letting Náonin's spirit into his mind.

_What does?_

_The bloodstains on your face._

_They suit a killer._

_Then you are the first righteous killer._

The Dragon Rider shook his head.

_There's no such thing._

_Eragon, do you know how the painless soldiers feel no pain?_

_Magic. I don't know how it works though._

She chuckled mirthlessly.

_Nay, brother, it's far more dark than that._

She waved her hand, conjuring mist, shaping it into a figure he didn't recognize.

'_Tis not a spell. It does involve magic, but it is no spell. No, they summon something._

She indicated the figure.

_Him. They call upon Lord Naûth'ra, one of the Lord of… something I am not permitted to speak of. But they give him their souls to become the Laughing Dead. They are soulless, Eragon. That is why the Lord Death hates them. It's hard to collect the souls of the dead when their souls are no longer theirs to give._

He stopped dead in his tracks.

_They give their souls away?_

_It is hard to kill something that has nothing behind its earthly form._

He took a deep breath.

It all came together.

The unearthly laughter.

The long time it took for them to die.

It was no magic.

Lord Death had to find their souls and only then could they die.

_Who is Lord Naûth'ra?_

She bit her lip.

_I am not allowed to speak of him or of the Twelve. There is but one way to learn of them and that is to become a spirit like me._

_To die._

She nodded.

Eragon sighed heavily, shuddering as he thought of the new revelation.

Soulless warriors.

Soulless.

And he thought hard-to-kill was bad enough.

It was as good as fighting the living dead.

Her gentle touch brought his eyes to hers.

_There may be no such thing as a righteous killer. But there's no evil in killing something that's already dead._

* * *

><p>The trip over the couple dozen leagues across to Beirland was uneventful. The Boar's Eye was a little more to the east during the winter seasons, following the swifter winds flowing eastwards. The titanic maelstrom was still an awe-inspiring sight, the whirling mass of the ocean's eye spanning at least five leagues across in all. Saphira looped around, staring at the water with amazement.<p>

_To think nature could be this powerful_, she said softly to Eragon, Calayn and Kalyn barrel-rolling so they could swoop lower, their riders just as stunned by the huge whirlpool.

_There is no force greater than nature, not even magic_, he murmured, patting her neck. _And there never will be._

She looked back at him with a wise, sapphire eye.

_Perchance love?_

He gave a dry laugh.

_No, Saphira. Love is also a part of nature. Just one of the harsher bits of it._

She nudged him with her nose, snorting, _Even mine, foolish one?_

He laughed, kissing her neck, _Nay, you're the rare blossom of love that does not hurt me, my sky queen._

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><p>Translation: <em>Nya<em> (title) – Old Elvish, roughly translates to "to be born again" or "to return to the beginning", "to be in the womb once more"

Cathali – Variation of the Old Elvish word "_cathia'vali_", meaning "Night's Beauty" (a flower that opens only during the nighttimes of summer and spring and early harvest)

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><p>TN: Mine~ all mine ^^<p>

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><p>AN: I kind of find it strange that Paolini doesn't have those "hard to translate" words in the Ancient Tongue ._.;; everyone who speaks a different language knows what I'm talking about, there will always be a word or phrase that's hard to translate into English because the meaning is not always literal or some reason like that. In Korean, the word "mahlyeok" is one of those, meaning like characteristic charisma, but in a darker way, and it's hard to explain. o.o so I added one of those words to the Ancient Language xD along with <em>kibriakun<em>

And for those who have noticed, I'm sorry for my increasingly dark and depressing-like chapters lately :/ first with Náonin's death, then Blödhgarm's story… it's just the beginning of a long fall towards the sad end of a story so you guys might want to brace yourself. Yes, my chapters will be pretty sad and angry and depressing from now on, but it'll end happy, and I'll make sure to add in some Aelwyn and ExA happy bits to lighten the mood lol and I'll add some humor between Eragon and Saphira more often, I'll try not to make you guys cry

Guess what Eragon has to do. ;)

Seeing this chapter is slightly shorter than usual, I'll upload it with the next chapter, so I'll respond to your reviews in the next chapter ^^


	37. Mar'wyn

**Chapter 36 – **_**Mar'wyn**_

"_You have nightmares, princess."_

_(Slight pause)_

"_Everyone has nightmares, Eragon."_

"_Nay. Everyone has dreams. Nightmares are for those who are ashamed of what they have done in the past. Otherwise, they are just bad dreams and good dreams. No?"_

_(Slight pause again)_

"_Or the ones fate has a mind to play with."_

_ ~Eragon Shadeslayer (first speaker) and Arya Dröttningu (second speaker)_

Eragon read the journal over and over again, trying to decipher exactly what the words meant and where it led to. He frowned, rubbing his chin in a thoughtful habit before raking his fingers through his rapidly lengthening hair. The long exposure to the sun had started to bleach the darker strands, giving it a lighter complexion and color.

Arya walked over, sitting by him as she read over with him, her striking forest-green eyes scathing the words with their intensity.

_The mountains seem almost foreboding as if warding us away from the temple. The birds sound different here. Everything about this place seems ominous. Dark. Something feels very wrong. So very wrong._

Eragon looked up.

_Saphira?_

The dragoness quickly melded her mind with his as she read over the lines, launching herself into the air moments later.

"She'll try to see if there are any mountains northward," Eragon explained to Arya, the elf nodded as they watched the great sky queen wheel around in the sky.

_There are mountains_, she called to him. _Perhaps thirty leagues from where we are, northeastward. Not many, but a few, around fifteen in a row. They do feel forbidding, it's almost as if they want us to keep us away. I think they are volcanoes. Or used to be at least. Many of them seem barren and lifeless._

She spun around, Eragon entering her mind, surveying the land around them with her.

Sure enough, the northeastern mountains seemed like once-active volcanoes, gray and bleak, barren and dead though the lands around them were filled with green trees and plants. Another, slightly larger chain of mountains lay to the south, lush with forestry, Saphira knowing the direction by animalistic survival instincts.

_I think our best bet is the northeastern ones_, he said to Saphira mentally, the great being nodding with agreement.

He let his vision return to normal as Saphira began to land, coming back into his mind on the ground, handing the journal to Arya.

"We travel northeast on the morrow."

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><p>Eragon slung his pack over his broad back, his gauntlets inside the bag as he hung his katana at his right hip, Brisingr at his left. His daggers were strapped to his bared forearms, damp from the mist rising from the dew and the tropical sun. His thighs held throwing knives and the handles of his twin long knives could be seen from behind his waist, ready to be pulled out at moment's notice. He always was armed to the teeth nowadays, opposed to when he had first come to the Varden, armed with nothing but a sword and a bow and his innocence.<p>

"Listen to the birds," he said. "When they begin to sound different, we are near."

And so they began their long trek.

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><p>It was an easy pace they kept, fast but not tiring, a gentle tempo, but not too slow. As they passed over hills and streams, the sight of the mountains met them, distant, mist-shrouded towers of dirt, rock, and stone. The animals around them curiously watched them, clearly unused to human company, a few birds flitting about them, chirping playfully.<p>

Aelwyn picked up a flower, sniffing the exotically colored blossom, the color of an early sunrise. Smiling, she handed it to Eragon.

"Smell it, milord," she said. "It smells of the _lyth'al_ flower of Cadia."

He accepted the blooming flower, taking a breath of the scent, the sweet aroma filling his nostrils for a few blissful seconds before he released his breath. It smelled of lavender and vanilla, with a touch of some tropical fruit.

"I'd like to go to Cadia someday," he said softly, setting the flower behind Arya's ear, smiling quickly before continuing their march.

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><p>The scenery was as wondrous as the Boar's Eye, the beautiful forests and incredible animals easily keeping the travelers awake and interested in their surroundings.<p>

Eragon took a deep breath of the cool air, feeling the early-morning droplets of water vapor in the mist around him. Drops of water condensed on his arms, running down his skin, the sound of the island engraving a beautiful memory in his mind.

A good while later, maybe halfway through the day, they came to a small waterfall, the gentle flows of the stream leaping from the stone maybe twice the height of a person into the pond below. Grateful for the small respite from the growing heat, Eragon called a break, washing his face, arms and neck, swiftly shedding his tunic to clean the sweat off his back. Calayn simply dove into the water using her wings to pour water on herself, sweeping her drenched hair out of her smiling face.

Aelwyn chuckled, "Milord, you should go in, too, I doubt just washing your back and your arms will work very well."

"I washed my face and neck, too," he smirked. "That has to count for something."

The Hand shrugged, moving aside to give Saphira space as the dragoness landed beside her, dunking her huge head in the water, getting both of them generously wet. She pulled back, shaking her body as the water droplets flew everywhere.

Arya laughed, wiping the water off her face, Eragon's eyes glistening with mischief, exchanging glances with Aelwyn. The Hand winked knowingly, walking over beside Arya, pretending to get something from her bag, tossing Eragon his bag as he walked over to her, rummaging through his sack.

In half a second, Arya's yelp could be heard along with the laughter of Aelwyn and Eragon, the elven princess resurfacing, spitting out water with a murderous glare.

"Eragon Shadeslayer, perhaps I should show you my idea of fun."

He grinned, teasingly bringing his face close to hers.

"Arya _Dröttningu_, have I ever told you how beautiful you look when you're angry at me?"

"I'll show you how beautiful you are when you're soaking wet, _Rider_," she smirked.

Mistake getting too close to her.

Aelwyn laughed even harder as she pulled him into the water, but she too was silenced when Saphira's tail simply pushed her into the pond, the dragoness snorting with amusement.

The Hand came up, sputtering curses, looking at the dragon with surprise.

"Saphira!"

_I couldn't help it_, she thrummed. _With Eragon and Arya looking all so beautiful wet and angry, I decided maybe I should make you more beautiful too._

The Hand growled, "Dragon or not, I will tackle you into the water, I s-."

That was all she could get out before Kalyn let out a whoop, leaping into the water, practically tackling Aelwyn and bringing them both under.

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><p>Aelwyn sat atop a rock by the edge of the waterfall, legs crossed, arms folded neatly in her lap, watching the animals of the forest about her, Eragon sitting on a branch near her. His eyes were closed as he meditated, some water from the falls floating up to flow around him, snaking around like a living vine of water. It twisted and writhed under his control, forming various shapes and symbols, stretching and curling, running across his bare shoulders to his other arm. His toned body was nearly dried from after their water escapade, the rippling muscles a testament to his strength and prowess he had already shown over and over again. Yet what always shocked her was the quiet tenderness he always showed to Arya. With most others, he was the powerful Dragon Rider, their leader, their greatest hope. Yet to the elven princess, he was a gentle, silent lover. She envied it in a way. She wished for the warmth of a true lover, not a beautiful man she could use and throw away the next morning.<p>

She wished for him to be there the next day to be holding her still. And the morning after that. And the morning after that morning.

Silly wishes.

Funny, to think a few moons ago, she had been attempting to seduce him.

And in many ways, she was glad he hadn't fallen for her sweet words. And then at other times, she wondered if he could have been hers.

No regrets.

She sighed, closed her eyes, and fell into the Hand trance, slowing her breathing, slowing her heart until it was a slow, deep beat deep inside her chest, an unfaltering tempo of life. Breathe. Beat. Breathe. Beat.

"_Breathe, Aelwyn. The trance does not come from your stillness, it comes from your acceptance and serenity."_

_She breathed, letting go of the pain from her sore muscles._

"_Listen to the beating of your heart. Become one with it. It is the beat for your lifesong. Your tempo. It changes. It quickens, it slows, but it is _your_ tempo, no others'. Listen to it."_

Beat. Beat. Beat.

And she sang along with her lifesong.

* * *

><p>Drums.<p>

Eragon heard drums, and it was not the drum of his heartbeat, or any other heart around him.

They were physical drums.

Faint. Ominous.

He opened his eyes, standing up.

Aelwyn was already on her feet, looking at him knowingly.

The beat was quick. They were no tribal drums. No ease or merriment. They were the drums of a march of war.

Night had fallen. He had lost track of the time while meditating, no doubt the others were asleep.

"I will go scout them," Aelwyn said, leaping into the trees, her assassin training kicking in as she gracefully leapt from tree to tree without breaking stride, soon vanishing into the darkness.

He jumped down from the tree in one swift move, landing by Arya, kissing her neck, "Princess, you need to wake up," he whispered.

She stirred groggily, no doubt tired from trekking more than ten leagues in a less than half a day.

"What is it?" she asked quietly, pushing herself up.

He cupped some water in his hand, washing her face as she accepted his gentle care, shaking her face as her eyes snapped open, more alert.

"War drums."

"How many times does a battle have to wake me up," she sighed, smirking as she grabbed her sword from the ground, going to wake the others.

By the time the Hand returned, they were all wide awake, preparing their weaponry. Aelwyn vaulted down from the trees, shaking her head.

"Too many, I saw at least three-hundred," she said. "We'll need to use our stealth to avoid them."

"Who?" Calayn demanded.

"No clue, they seem like mercenaries, heavily armed, efficient, quick, strong. We won't have a demon lord helping us this time, or a downwards slope."

"Why are they chasing us?" Kalyn asked with exasperation, sheathing his blades as he swung his pack across his back, the group of warriors running off into the forest, Saphira flying low above the trees to avoid being spotted.

"Galbatorix knows we're here," Arya muttered. "Or someone else who doesn't like us does."

"Less talking, more running," Eragon snapped, using his katana to hack a branch aside, then deciding not to cut another one in case they had a skilled hunter or tracker among their ranks.

Aelwyn grabbed a branch, climbing up the tree to run across the branches, the others swiftly following her lead. Kalyn and Calayn bounded to the top of the trees, shifting into the Kill to fly beside Saphira, the three warriors now like squirrels, scurrying through the branches, ducking to avoid leaves and stray twigs that got in the way.

"I'm kind of tempted to go fight them," Aelwyn said, grinning darkly in a way only a Hand could.

"I would rather you not," the Dragon Rider said, shaking his head with a smile. "But I know what you mean."

* * *

><p><em>Du drottínar wilae véra eom aí lûka.<em>

Fire raged around him. The tongues of the flames licked at his hands, igniting his skin, yet it did not burn, it melded with him, became one with it.

_Enna Maûthra'va neo'ména halda._

The sound of chains. Bones. Death. Screams and sounds of ripping bodies.

_Taka sikû lita méva en'vala_

Eragon shot up, gasping for air, rivulets of sweat trickling down his face and chest, his hair plastered to his neck from the moistness of his skin.

He sighed deeply, wiping sweat from his brow.

"_Or the ones who fate has a mind to play with."_

He smiled grimly.

_Or all of the above._

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><p>Kalyn woke up early the next morning, seeing the Lord Rider already dressed and washed, sitting atop a rock near one of the many streams on the island, eyes closed, legs crossed, his shoulders moving gently with every breath.<p>

"There is game I hunted by the stream," the man said. "Skinned. Cooked. Wash and eat, I hear not the drums anymore."

The dreamwraith walked over to his liege who called him friend.

"Milord, something bothers you?"

"Nightmares do not leave a troubled soul untouched. Do not worry about me, Kalyn," Eragon smiled, standing up as he patted the older being's shoulder.

Though Kalyn knew he was many years the Rider's senior, he felt so young when he was near the man. There was just… an aging aura around him, like he was an ancient warrior who had seen too many wars, seen too many deaths, seen too much, heard too much, done too much. It was a strange sensation.

"As you wish, milord."

* * *

><p>Their walk was considerably harder than the first one. The heat was even hotter and the air was dense and humid, crowding them and making their lungs strain for air with even the littlest increase of pace. The terrain was unstable and a good number of times they had to go around an area too swamped to walk through. Saphira said that the mountains were not too far away now, and by around the fourth hour of the afternoon, the trees started to thin out.<p>

The mountains were even bigger than Eragon had expected.

And darker.

The air around them was still, as if even the winds had died. Skeletons of various things littered the area around them.

The line of trees stopped abruptly where the first skeleton touched, like the very ground was poisonous.

"Is it safe?" Arya asked unsurely.

Eragon stepped on the ground.

Feeling no ill effects, he put his other foot on the darker dirt.

Nothing.

The air was more stale and dry, but it was eerily cool.

Stepping back, the humid wind punched him in the face, staggeringly hot compared to the air just half a breath in front of him.

"This is no natural place," he muttered.

"Milord, the birds," Aelwyn whispered.

She was right. Their shock had distracted them from the sound of the birds. While the birds of the rainforest were lively and cheery, the birds right on the line had drawn-out calls, dark and forbidding, like the carrion scavenger birds.

"We're here," Eragon said resolutely, walking past the line of life and death and marching onwards.

* * *

><p>It was bleak. Utterly, completely bleak. Rats and some bugs skittered around among the decomposing animals and the skeletons of past beings that had once been there. Humans, Urgals, stouter skeletons being dwarves. Some of the slimmer ones could have been elves, seeing their ethereal symmetry and the elegant length of their limbs and the well-shaped bone structure.<p>

It reminded Eragon quite strikingly of the path to Kuthian.

_I see the temple_, Saphira said, swooping down low above them, buffeting them with her powerful wings as she landed beside him, walking with elegant grace.

Eragon quickened his pace.

* * *

><p>It was an impressive sight, it truly was. It seemed like it was perhaps the length of Saphira wingspan high, meaning the height of around twenty full-grown men, made of pure white stones, a stark contrast to the dark land around it. As they got closer, he realized it was much bigger than that. The staircase alone leading up to the temple was as high as Saphira's wingspan, the building itself around fifty-men high.<p>

"Incredible," Arya breathed, the others just as astonished.

How they had created this marvel, Eragon could only guess they had used magic. It would have taken eons to create something this enormous by manpower alone, and even magic would have a hard time some of the stones of the size he could see. One stone pedestal for a huge statue of a cloaked figure with his arms outstretched was the size of Saphira with a lot to spare. Not a single skeleton lay within twenty paces of the building, yet the bit that was distracting was the ring of dead corpses lying right outside the twenty paces.

Eragon picked up a stone, tossing it experimentally past the ring.

Nothing happened.

Warding himself silently, he stepped over a long-dead skeleton, waiting as his companions gingerly followed his lead to no sudden explosions or traps.

They began their walk up the stairs.

When his first foot struck the top of the ascension, a huge gust of wind threatened to push him back down, his cloak and hair billowing about him as he twisted to avoid most of the gale, waiting until the draft had died down before continuing towards the open doors.

It was… Strangely, disturbingly familiar. Like he had been here before. Long before his life had even begun, he had been here.

When he heard Calayn's yelp, he spun around, his hand flying for his sword.

She shook her head, holding her bleeding nose, prompting him to run back to her as the others waited outside the door, unsure what to do.

"What happened?" he asked, swiftly wiping the blood away with his thumb, healing it with a simple spell.

"There's a barrier," the dreamwraith said simply, putting her hand out around him.

While nothing obstructed him, an invisible wall pushed against her hand, unyielding.

Eragon's brows furrowed as he stuck his hand through right beside Calayn's yet his hand struck nothing but air.

His mind clicked.

He reached around his neck, hastily pulling Náonin and Dathrys' pendants from around his neck, handing them to Arya, reaching out again.

His hand met cold stone.

"The place is warded from outsiders," he muttered, accepting the necklaces. "Arya, follow me, Saphira, look through my eyes, Calayn, Kalyn, Aelwyn, watch for anything strange and call us if anything stirs."

Arya slipped Dathrys' blood-red pendant around her neck, the others nodding as Eragon felt his bond with Saphira intensify, feeling the familiar, warm presence filling his mind. He affectionately curled his mental thoughts around her, the dragoness thrumming with contentedness, him and Arya slipping through the warded entrance without trouble.

Words. Glowing words flowed around them, were etched into the walls and pillars and ceilings. Surrounded them, accompanied by the whisperings and murmurs that echoed through the halls, a chaotic symphony of prophesy. Yet as he walked on, the voices quieted, some even shushing other ones, telling them to be silent in various tongues, Arya following behind him, her eyes drawn to the magnificence of the prophetic temple.

"They know me," Eragon said quietly, holding out his hands as the words ran over his hands, the voices murmuring with excitement.

Arya's gaze snapped to him, watching the words react to his touch, hearing the voices whisper with awe.

"You are the one they have been waiting for," she reminded him. "High Bladelord Sivan wrote it in his journal, you remember?"

He nodded, listening to the souls and spirits begin to chant their prophesies with renewed fervor as if his presence gave them a new passion. "High Bladelord Sivan was an elf from beyond the Hadarac, descendent of the first Bladelord, Lord Thy'ren, one of your ancestors."

"One of the House of Lay'valthyn?"

He gave a small, knowing smile.

"Princess, Lay'valthyn was Lord Thy'ren's wife, mate, and partner of war and his greatest friend. The reason your house is not known by his name is because he was a Bladelord. They do not impact history in visible ways, their changes are always made hidden in the darkness. When declared a Bladelord, whether elf, human, Urgal, dwarf, Cadian, or the few half-bloods, their names are erased. The fathers of one son become childless, the brothers become only children, friends lose one of their numbers with only memories to remember them. They no longer exist in the eyes of the world. Have you ever heard of Náonin?"

Arya shook her head slowly, suddenly realizing how she hadn't.

"She was of the House Thrándurin."

That name she knew all too well.

"Of the same house as Oromis?" she asked incredulously. "But…"

Then his previous words came to mind.

He tilted his head, his eyes meeting hers.

"She was his sister. When the Bladelords came, they saw the mark of the Bladelord upon her soul, something only the High Lord can see. They asked her if she would join their ranks, and how could she refuse? It was her duty. Oromis erased all trace of her from the elven world with the help of the Bladelords. He knew the Bladelords would be safer for her than the elven world. And as their house fell apart, one member dying after another, many during the Battle of Ilirea, he prayed she survived it all. And then he died. The House of Thrándurin had ended to the mind of the people. Yet Náonin held the name. And then she died."

He hesitated, holding up his hand to show her the ring.

The blood-memory ring.

"And now I am the last. I truly am the last. There are no more hidden Riders, no more hidden Bladelords. I am the last. Last of the House Thrándurin, last of the Free Riders, the last of many things I wish I never would have the responsibility for."

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. She shut it.

Then gently taking his hand, she stopped him where he stood, the hall growing hushed.

"Last of many things, Rider," she whispered. "But you shall always be first in my heart."

She tentatively leaned up for the only kiss that could make her heart flutter.

His.

* * *

><p>Calélas cradled Evilan, the young child looking up at him curiously, probably wondering why the elf was different.<p>

The new Blödhgarm smiled, truly smiled. For some reason, there was a beauty in an unripe life that was more beautiful than all the gems of the mortal world they lived in.

"Hello, Evilan," he said, kissing his liege-lord's child's forehead. "I know, you are confused. I am no longer Blödhgarm."

He reinforced his words with thoughts, brilliant violet eyes widening with recognition and then with confusion as the familiar image of Blödhgarm slowly changed into Calélas. The baby cooed, gripping his long, plaited hair, playing with the silken strands with unending amusement, causing the elf to laugh.

"Aye, little one, I am still the same elf," he promised. "Much, hopefully much, much later, you shall learn of what causes a man to change on the outside. And then many eons after that, perhaps you shall learn of what causes a soul to change on the inside."

Sighing, he walked through the halls of Belatona's keep, nodding to Dathal as the dreamwraith temporarily in charge of the other shape-shifters walked past, bowing his head with respect as he would to Eragon. The dreamwraiths had come to respect many of the Hands and the elves of the Rider's personal guard, their mutualistic protection of the Dragon Rider becoming their main reason of agreement and companionship. Some had formed close bonds and were seen together, speaking and taking guard shifts together, something Calélas found comforting, that such different races could come together in the most dire of times against a single enemy, or at least a single purpose.

He chuckled at the irony of it.

No longer as the flag of the Varden it's ragtag of colors, but a single thing.

Their Dragon Rider.

Their Rider was their banner now.

* * *

><p>Translation: <em>Mar'wyn<em> (title) – the true meaning is unclear, Ancient Elvish (a few millennia before Old Elvish), believed to mean something close to "Death's death", or "Death's breath", "Shadow of Death", "End of Death"

I'm not going to translate the bit in Eragon's dream because it'll become a crucial part of the story later that would be spoiled if I told you now xD

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><p>TN: Everything is mine except <em>du, wilae, eoma, aí<em>, and _taka_~

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><p>AN: just watched Last Samurai… if any of you haven't yet, go watch it. now. Look it up online, watch it, the movie is so touching..<p>

Anyways, sorry this chapter is really jumping around all over the timetable :/ it's just that I kind of have to pick up the pace because I don't know how to spend the spaces in between and I don't want to bore you guys with endless dialogue lol

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><p>ANDDD<p>

The story about Blödhgarm and the five may actually come _with_ the sequel or this story whenever I feel like I'll be able to manage the two~ and maybe instead of just Blödhgarm's story, I'll also put in a short story about one of Eragon's descendents I've suddenly thought of because of the Last Samurai xD so keep an eye out for that in my author's notes!~

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><p>Guest – matters on what your idea of straight is xD<p>

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><p>Nothing You Need to Know – oh thank you!~ I'll keep that name in mind ^^ oh Dathrys is just a former Bladelord, Osilon is a city that was given to Fyrn'gala to protect and to manage over xD<p>

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><p>Dessert Maniac – yeah I kind of noticed too Dx thank you~ I'll try to fix that as much as I can in the coming chapters! ^^<p>

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><p>Phoenix1592 – let's see if Evilan can do something to that :3 thank you~<p>

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><p>Fanyboy123 – paha xD you'll see ;) thank you~<p>

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><p>Fanboy123 – so many guests o.o;; oh she found it in an underground library in Belatona, it's mentioned when Eragon scries her in I forget what chapter xD thank you!~ I might write it with another story about one of Eragon's descendents if I can figure out a good short story for them both~<p>

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><p>Restrained Freedom – yup!~ I was pretty happy to see him too xD gone too long paha I'll see if I can put him in again somewhere~ and thanks :3<p>

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><p>Cara – why thank you ^^;; flattered~ paha<p>

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><p>Renessaincbooklover108 – your name is quite a handful xD but thank you!~<p>

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><p>Guest – their magic words differently, they have a hard time with healing spells, but have greater power with more chaotic spells<p>

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><p>Guest – thank you!~ I may just write a whole short story and about one of Eragon's descendents xD<p>

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><p>Firesword2 – I'm not sure why o.o;; but thanks for the review~<p>

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><p>Guest – I am in a way x3<p>

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><p>Guest – LOL THEY WILL RELAX xD it's ok, it's allergy season ;3<p>

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><p>Guest – I'm pretty sure it was <em>thorta<em> o.o;;

Oh wait it is _ilumëo_… it says _thorta_ and _ilumëo _but I'm sure it's the second lol I'll change it, thank you~

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><p>Guest – sorry! D: get sleep xD<p>

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><p>Firesword2 – nope, not the end ;3 you'll know when it's the end<p>

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><p>Guest – so many guests o.o;; once again.. paha well, stuff changes, and he didn't really have a choice<p>

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><p>Guest – Restorations bro~<p>

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><p>Darth Feanor – aww D: well thank you!~<p>

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><p>Wondrous Serendipity (?) – thank you!~ and thank you for your feedback ^^ I might write a short story about Eragon's descendent, would that interest you more? Curiosity makes me ask xD well, I'll finish that bit in this story, and introduce new issues in the sequell~ and Aelwyn is pronounced like ALEWIN. So… yeah xD ale wins. Paha~<p>

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><p>Scorpyra – I had a bit of trouble with it to, trying to make it seem more casual and natural, but I couldn't have this story as emotional with them dancing around each other xD so yes, it is a little forced and really fast-forwarded, but thank you!~ and as for the title Lord Rider, it isn't necessarily a title he needs to own, he just needs to be a free-willed Rider whose had his dragon the longest, and since Galbatorix's dragon is really his, he's ruled out, and Murtagh and Thorn are double crossed because he's had Thorn shorter than Eragon and he doesn't have his free will at the moment. Obligations like Eragon has to Nasuada and the dwarven clans are still considered free will, so this makes Eragon the Lord Rider by default xD and trust me, sometimes, things force you to jump a lot farther than you anticipate but I really do thank you for your long, thoughtful review! I'm glad you took the time to tell me these things, and I'll see if I can adjust the upcoming chapters slightly to fit the timeframe more :)<p>

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><p>Guest – no I did not o.o;; but I just liked the name Sarissa xD and it means princess in some language that escapes my mind :


	38. Tekiya Freohr

**Chapter 37 – **_**Tekiya Freohr**_

"_Death is but another land we must pass through along our life's journey. You can wander from the path to avoid it, but you must always pass through the shadows lest you wish to scour a land you know all too well."_

"_I guess this is what the life of an elf is. Wandering the lands he already knows by heart, unable to walk on down the path any farther."_

_~Eragon Shadeslayer (first speaker) and Náonin Bladesinger (second speaker)_

Eragon came to the back of the temple, touching the wall. Strangely, it was made of glistening black material, a sharp contrast to the white stones around it.

The symbols etched into the black wall seemed familiar to his eyes, his mind rushing through memories, trying to find where he had seen them before.

He frowned.

"Arya, take a few steps back."

She cautiously did so, watching worriedly as he touched the imprints on the obsidian wall, his fingers tracing the intricate swirls slowly.

_Feel the symbols, do not look_, Náonin whispered.

He closed his eyes.

Veins? The symbols had veins. They glowed with a sinister dark energy, each vein in the exact shape of its physical form.

They were new veins he had not seen before.

_Veins of death_, a quiet voice told him.

_Paid by blood, is thy wall, O Death_, a trail of words sang to him. _Upon thy beautiful symbols of pain and darkness, is thy wall, O Death. Trace thy rose of blood, O bringer of fire._

His hand came to rest on a Night's Beauty, the delicate curves of the expertly carved into the dark stone.

_Rose of blood._

Drawing a dagger, he pulled off his gauntlet, cutting his palm open with a quick slash, ignoring the searing pain. Pressing his hand to symbol, he slowly dragged his blood-dripping fingers around the edge of the flower.

_Trace thy rose of blood._

Warmth.

The gash on his palm sealed and the flesh reknit itself, the blood trickling down his arm, leaving a crimson trail down his forearm.

_Follow thine heart 'til thy destiny is revealed before thine eyes._

He pushed against the wall.

The hidden gates swung open, his blood on the symbol spreading across the whole wall until every symbol was painted in his life, the red liquid beginning to glow.

There was only darkness behind the wall. No light. No being. No sound. Just blackness and oblivion.

"I hear him," Eragon murmured quietly into the emptiness.

"Aye, as you should."

Dathrys again.

Eragon held out a hand, nonverbally telling Arya that he trusted the rather violently-inclined emissary of Death enough not to try to kill him where he stood.

"You seem to keep by me very much these days, Dathrys."

The former Bladelord bowed, "Lady Arya, Lord Eragon."

Eragon inclined his head, unwilling to bow to his sister's killer.

"Eragon, your path lies before you."

And he knew the traitor was telling the truth. He could feel the tugging of his heart, like he had felt when he rode to Kuthian, and when it had drawn him to Náonin, leading them to her death and his breaking.

"What must I do."

Dathrys indicated the figures waiting beyond the barriers of the main entrance.

"Your dragon, Saphira. You will need her."

"The Varden?" Eragon demanded.

"Will be under the temporary protection of Death until your return."

Arya looked between the two powerful beings, unsure what Eragon had in mind.

_Return? No, he couldn't be leaving again…_

Perhaps his Hand training had given him slight psychic abilities, for he looked at her straight in the eyes, then broke contact, looking at the ground between them.

A tiny nod.

"Eragon…"

"Dathrys is right. Come, I will speak with them."

Then he and Dathrys locked gazes, neither looking away for a few long moments. Eragon's eyes narrowed, then as if giving up a mental war, sighed, nodding.

"I will send for her," the being said, bowing lowly before walking into the darkness.

Eragon strode to the front of the temple, Arya hurrying after him.

Already, Calayn and Kalyn were disagreeing, the siblings vigorously shaking their heads, Aelwyn with her arms crossed stubbornly across her chest, looking as if she would tie her liege lord to the wall to keep him there.

"My lord, how do you know you will return? Or if Lord Death will allow you to?" Aelwyn demanded as Arya drew into earshot. "The realm of eternal darkness is not a light matter!"

Those words froze the elven princess in her tracks.

"Aye, they are not! Yet this war must be won at whatever price, and I am willing to sacrifice what it must."

Saphira stomped a foot, shaking her scales with a shower of deadly clacks.

_At least this time I shall go with you. You said Lord Death will protect the Varden until your return?_

"I know not if even Lord Death can deal with too many soulless things for too long. But yes, Dathrys is but his messenger, he would not lie."

"My lord, I hig-" Aelwyn began, but her voice failed her as her eyes flickered behind Eragon. Her gaze turned from disbelief to pain and sorrow and to then amazement mixed with so much longing and yearning it almost hurt to see the emotion shimmering in the Hand's eyes.

"Mi-mistress?" she breathed.

Arya spun around, suddenly aware of another presence near her.

Her eyes met the most exotic shade of violet.

"Sister, good to see you again," the woman smiled, wearing simple leather leggings and a blouse, a katana, much like Eragon's Lord Master sword, hanging at her hip. Her thighs had a good number of knives strapped to them, her gait a confident yet gentle, graceful walk, moving with the elegance that easily surpassed elves. The strength of a tiger, the lethality of a lion, the grace and beauty of a wolf, eyes of the purest amethyst.

Eragon inclined his head.

"Mistress."

It clicked.

The way he said "mistress". He said it like he would call her "princess".

"Mistress Sarissa?" Arya asked quietly, half in awe, half in horror.

The former leader of the Hands bowed graciously, "Lady Arya."

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><p>The instant Sarissa stepped through the barrier, Aelwyn had the woman in a death hold of a hug, burying her face in her friend's hair like a little kid. Sarissa stood unfazed, holding the crying Hand as she would her child, affectionately running her fingers through Aelwyn's loose hair.<p>

"I missed you, Aelwyn."

"You bitch! Do you know how much I missed you, you whore?" Aelwyn asked between sobs, refusing to come out from the shelter of Sarissa's neck.

Gently setting her down, Sarissa kissed the Hand's forehead, wiping the tears from her eyes with a tenderness of a mother, smiling encouragingly.

Looking at the great dragoness glaring menacingly at her, the Lady Mistress hesitated, glancing at Eragon. When he nodded reassuringly, Sarissa took two steps towards Saphira, and dropped down on both knees, kneeling in a way even a human would have a hard time doing to an elven queen.

The hard ice in Saphira's eyes softened a slight bit, Sarissa looking up as the two exchanged a few silent words. Soon, the dragoness bowed her head, the Hand rising to her feet. Shaking hands with Calayn and Kalyn, she shared a quiet word with each, nodding as they came to some mutuality.

Sarissa swiftly embraced Eragon, holding him much longer than she had Aelwyn, her head resting against his chest, a peaceful look of closure and ease overcoming her beautiful features. A pang of jealousy went through Arya's soul, forcing her to automatically hide her hurt behind the diplomatic expression that had always held her together.

She kissed his cheek, saying something that made him smile in a way she had never seen before. He nodded, pressing a chivalrous kiss to her knuckles before letting go of his former lover, backing away as he turned to Arya.

"I need to go."

"Again."

The bitterness in her voice was too obvious.

He pulled her inside the temple, turning the corner away from everyone's sight.

"Eragon, do you know h-"

He grabbed her waist, his mouth claiming hers, his touch sending a passionate trail of fire shooting through her body.

She didn't know how long they stayed like that. She didn't care. Not this time. She wasn't going to let him slip out of her grasp like Fäolin.

If this was the last time she would see him in this land, she would say goodbye as best she could. Bury her dignity, bury her fears, bury her diplomacy and titles.

"I must."

"Why?" Why go… And her! Why her?" she demanded, glad that the voices of the prophesy drowned out her exclamation.

"She has much to teach you, my princess. Give Sarissa a chance. She… Is not a monster. You know the soul of a person when they give you their life for your freedom… When you hold them and feel their thoughts turn to ash and their soul slip through your mind's embrace."

"She hurt you."

"As have you."

The truth cut her in half.

His eyes apologized, but she knew he was wise enough not to ask for forgiveness for a painful truth.

"I love you, Arya."

"So you say."

He winced, and she instantly regretted her words. Of course she would prove his words. Of course her jealousy would hurt him. Of course she would respond with anger to his tenderness. It was but her reaction to everything kind and sweet. Push it away, keep it as far as possible. Let not the emotions of the world convince you to make a decision that will simply hurt you.

"Sarissa will take care of you. Try to forgive her. For me. Please…"

He released her, catching Cathali as Aelwyn threw it to him through the wards, striding towards the gates, Dathrys waiting patiently besides the oblivion.

"Eragon!"

He didn't stop.

Arya forcefully turned him around, and before he could pull away, he found her lips against his.

She slowly let go, engraving the memory of his lips in her mind, trying to slowly push Fäolin away.

It was what she was best at anyways.

"I love you."

He smiled sadly.

"And I, you, my princess."

Dathrys indicated for Saphira to step past the barrier, the dragoness poking her snout through the doorway experimentally. Finding nothing obstructing her path, she walked through, gently nuzzling Arya.

_I shall take care of him._

_Thank you_, she replied softly.

"Half a moon cycle, if I am not back before then, assume that I have perished in the darkness."

"Do not say such words," she whispered, trying in vain to keep her crumbling her mask of strength to hide her frailty at his leaving.

"I am a warrior, Arya… I must."

Kissing her brow, he gently put a hand on Saphira's wing, the two walking into the dark void.

Dathrys bowed to her one last time, "Lord Death's protection will be enough. We shall guide him through the realm to the best of our abilities, milady."

"We?"

The being chuckled drily.

"Aye, we."

His eyes came to rest on the pendant, his hand going to the spot it used to rest between his collarbone.

"I pray that you bear the name of Bladelord more honorably than I, Lady Arya."

With no more explanation, he slipped into the void, the gate slamming shut behind him.

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><p>Sarissa shifted shyly from foot to foot, unsure what to do. She usually didn't feel this way, maybe it was from seeing him after so long. Or the fact that Arya had just kissed him with a love even she could not match. He had found his true lover. She was happy for him. Yet the want for his love was gnawing at her.<p>

Maybe the shadow lands were better for her.

The elven warrior walked out, her eyes coldly looking over her before she sighed, her gaze defeated and tired.

She held out a hand.

"We have much in common. And I do not wish to be your enemy any longer than I have to."

The gesture surprised her.

"Neither do I, milady," Sarissa said, accepting the ungloved hand.

It was a good start.

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><p>He and the other thing walked through the scorched plains, the cloaked figure by him neither speaking nor looking at him.<p>

"Where are we?"

"Where we must be," the being replied, the lilting feminine voice of a young woman gracing his ears. "Nowhere else."

"That leaves many places upon my mind."

"What is on your mind?" she asked in return.

He stopped, frowning, the huge creature looking at him, their minds connecting.

To emptiness.

There was nothing.

His brows furrowed as he tried to concentrate. Tiny wisps of memories floated around. Kisses. Death. Blood. Pain. Lots of pain. And even those trails of remembrances blew away with the wind like the smoke of the fires around them.

"You remember nothing. That is what this land is. We would have a name for it, but the name would be wasted on forgetful ears. Perhaps you shall remember all when we leave these burning lands. Perhaps you shall not. Only Lord Time will tell."

He looked at her, "Your voice…"

"Is familiar? Many things are to you, One Who Wanders. But you will know nothing until you become one with nothingness."

"I am dead."

"Aye. And nay. Only Lord Time will tell."

And so they walked.

"What is your name?"

The woman smiled, her lips the only part of her face visible under her cowl.

"We grace ourselves not with names in these lands. Yet… You may call me One Who Sings of War."

"And my name?"

"You are Nameless. As you shall stay until you become one with your name."

It was all making little to no sense in Nameless' empty mind. So instead, he turned his attention to the fires around them, engraving them into his memory, starting to fill what was missing.

"The things…"

One Who Sings of War smirked darkly, looking at the dancing fires.

"Aye. You see them, don't you."

And Nameless did. In the blazes of death, he saw life. Children laughing and playing, dancing and singing. Gently writing that in the echoing darkness of his mind, he let the words of the song trail into the crevices of his thoughts. They were gorgeous. There was a beauty that nothing could match in the youth of children.

"It is called fire. Out of life comes death. Yet out of death comes life. That is the endless circle of this world," One Who Sings of War said. "Those who try to oppose it shall perish. Those who deny it shall die. Those who close their eyes to the truth shall awake to death knocking on their doorstep."

"And those who accept it?" Nameless asked.

"Those are the beings who shall know no limits to their understanding. With acceptance comes knowledge. With knowledge comes strength, with strength, responsibility, with responsibility, wisdom. With wisdom come treasures of the world far greater than mortal wealth."

"Do not all die?"

She nodded. "Yes," she said bluntly. "Yet the mortals try so hard to live forever. Their magic spells, their cures, their silly elixirs and medicines, their legends of immortality, they cling to those and yet they all die. Even the elves, even the Riders."

Those names were all unfamiliar to Nameless.

One Who Sings of War laughed, "Ah, I nearly forgot that you were new to these lands. You shall learn of them soon, fret not. Be like a child, worry not about the morrow, but about how to make the best of the day you have."

Those words he didn't even have to try to remember. He knew they would be forever engraved upon his soul.

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><p>Arya watched as Sarissa stroked Aelwyn's hair, the Hand's head resting against her neck, the fingers of one hand entwined around the Lady Mistress' in a touching, child-like manner. She was already asleep, a look of simplistic joy upon her stunning face.<p>

"She trusts you with all she is," Arya said softly.

The Hand gave a heartbreaking smile, "Aye. But only now do I see it." She chuckled, "Ah, dying is truly a life-changing thing. The irony is quite blunt."

Arya smirked slightly.

"How did you meet her?" she asked, violently pushing the jealousy out of her heart, trying not to erupt in front of the beautiful woman.

"A rebellion. The rebels slaughtered her village, and I found her hiding with a knife in her tiny, five year-old hand, protecting her baby brother, her parents dead outside of the room they were in. I took her under my wing. The way a female Hand trains another female Hand is much less… Sexual. There is a lot more pain involved to make up for it though. I know not how she loves me at all."

Aelwyn nestled her head more comfortably against Sarissa's chest, the young woman turning slightly in her sleep. The elder Hand gently adjusted her arms, holding Aelwyn against her like a mother would her child.

"For twenty years, I stayed by her side, teaching her everything I knew. On the day of her final test, I told her to kill me. I was willing to give up my life, I knew I had taught her well, and it would be a quick death at her hand. Yet she didn't.

"Instead, she took her dagger and put it through her own heart."

Arya's eyes snapped to Sarissa, surprise radiating from her gaze.

"Strange, how love works. My own pupil loved me enough to kill herself instead of taking my life. So I gave her my breath. I demanded why she hadn't killed her, furious, thinking she was too weak. Then I realized it was so much harder to kill yourself than to kill someone who had torn you apart, physically and emotionally. And from the day I brought her back from the path of death, she stayed by my side as much as she could."

"Perhaps she is weak," Arya whispered.

Sarissa looked up at her, confused.

"To kill yourself is a much less painful choice than to take the life of someone you love. Eragon is a testament to that."

That was the end of the conversation. The two women sat in utter silence, listening to the birds and animals of the night.

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><p>Nameless and One Who Sings of War walked together, his hard-skinned companion now in the air, flying low so she could help if need be.<p>

"Where are we now?" he asked, noticing the diminishing flames.

"Where we must be, nowhere else," she replied, just as she always did.

As they trekked across the burned ground, Nameless saw something glinting on the ground.

It was a strange trinket-like thing, something he didn't know. Well, there was little he knew at this point of his journey.

"A necklace," One Who Sings of War said. "And a pendant. Wear it. Perhaps it will do you some good."

This so-called pendant was a strange thing, made of a glimmering substance that was cold and hard. It was shaped in some being, he knew not what it was. It had protruding arms from its back with some cloth draped over the limbs, its arms outstretched, dressed in a flowing cloak. Putting it over his head, he let it settle against his chest, feeling the stark coolness against his skin.

They strode on, the beast landing beside him, looking curiously at the new addition to his clothes.

Snorting out smoke, she launched herself into the empty blankness above the thing they were walking on.

The One Who Sings of War stopped, kneeling as she used the slender tips of her… an arm she called it? Ah, right, she had called it a hand. She used her hand to touch the stuff rough stuff they trod upon, looking ahead of them.

"Nameless, stick close by me."

Three more people that resembled her form thundered down the path on magnificent creatures. They weren't like the beast that circled in the air, but they held their own beauty.

"Horses," she whispered to him.

He nodded, burning it into his memories.

"Ho! Sister!"

Nameless frowned, wondering if "Sister" was the One Who Sings of War's true name.

She smiled, "Greetings, friend."

"The war is glorious!" the being roared, leaping off the horse, his strange clothing clashing with a grating sound. "And who is this?"

"A traveler," she replied. "Nameless, meet One Who Kills."

The huge man grinned, shaking his hand heartily, "Aha! Nameless, is it? Glad to meet you, son, are you here to join the feasting of blood and flesh? My sword begs for the lives of dead souls!"

Nameless literally got about two words out of what One Who Kills said.

Seeing the burly man waiting for an answer, he looked at One Who Sings of Wars. She smiled reassuringly.

"Aye," he said hesitatingly.

The man laughed raucously, slapping his back, "Good! I shall see you on the field, Nameless! May your blade be drunk on the blood of a thousand immoral souls today!"

Swinging himself back on the horse, he and his two companions galloped to the left over the hills, roaring with laughter all the way.

"One Who Kills is very different from you," he said as they continued in the direction the three riders had gone.

"Every being is unique, it is what makes us beautiful. Some are tall, some are short, some are skinny, some are like him and are huge. Do not be afraid to stick out of the sea of beings, beauty is something to appreciate, not to hide. Yet there is a fine line between appreciation and pride and arrogance. Never become arrogant."

"Arrogance?"

She smiled, "You shall learn soon, Nameless. Come, there is a battle to join."

The majestic beast circled down, landing beside him once again, snorting as she indicated the hills as if saying something. The strange skin she had clicked and clacked with some sort of finality as if she was preparing for something. Perhaps this thing called the feasting of blood and flesh?

"She can hear the battle already," One Who Sings of War said. "Here, you will need this."

She handed him something that looked like those things that she had called sticks, his hand somehow familiar to the grip of the stick.

"It is a sword."

_Sword_.

The name echoed with some strange emotion in his mind, like his hand had already been acquainted with this thing called a sword before.

"Scabbard," she said, indicating the longer half of the stick. "Pull on this, the handle."

He did so, finding that the bottom half slid out, revealing a long stick made of similar material as the pendant. He swung it, finding that his soul had already met this sword before.

"I know this sword," he murmured.

"Aye. Come, you shall be using it very soon."

Discordant clashes. Screams. Yelling, the sound of something breaking, ripping, tearing, laughter, some strange braying noises, all this assaulted his mind as they came closer to this "feast of flesh and blood."

As they reached the top of the last hill, Nameless looked down at the sight before him.

He didn't know what it was called, but it was disgusting.

Arms, legs, heads, bodies were strewn everywhere, fires, yelling, a huge assortment of beings and creatures locked around each other in a dance that only they knew, swords clashing along with other things that he didn't know.

"What is this," he asked with horror.

"This is what is called war," One Who Sings of War said, practically spitting the word out of the thing she called her mouth. "It is what I sing of."

He looked down at the carnage, seeing One Who Kills tearing through every being that got in his path, laughing with a frightening callousness.

"Is this what they call killing?"

She nodded.

"Come."

"I do not wish to war."

She sighed, holding out a hand.

"Nameless, not many sensible beings do. But sometimes there are times when we must, not for ourselves, but for others. We must war. We cannot fall in love with it, but times will come when we must."

"What is love?"

She stopped short of words.

"It is what it is. Come, let us war."

He took her hand.

Then without a moment's hesitation, they ran down the hill, a bloodcurdling yell leaving their throats.

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><p>Translation: <em>Tekiya Freohr<em> (title) – Accept Death

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><p>TN: Um… <em>Tekiya<em>, there we go, that word is mine :)

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><p>AN: Prepare for darkness, shadows, death shit, and holy gawt, shit just got real. I kind of hope you guys didn't expect me to throw in a reincarnated Sarissa back into the fray xD the next few chapters will be mostly… idk, moralic? That's not even a word the hell… ._.;; what I mean is that the next few chapters will pretty much bring together many of the morals I've sprinkled throughout this story, and add some more. This story, honestly, I began for fun. But as I went on, I thought to myself, why am I writing. If there's no true point to a story, then no matter how well written the story is, it's a bad story. So I started adding in points. True points. Maybe if you look back you'll find a few of them? But these points will be blatantly blunt and maybe if you're going through a lot of stuff, it'll help. Eh, I'm wishing for too much. I hope you guys just enjoy it, at least xD<p>

Do you know how hard it is to try and describe things like I know nothing about it? xD oawierjwot it's like… ok, let's just say it's hard and keep it at that =.=

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><p>Guest – Thank you!~ ^^<p>

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><p>Fanboy123 – thanks :D paha I hope you don't mind me making Aelwyn a little kid in this chapter xD<p>

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><p>Wondrous-Serendipity – I didn't know it was you at first xD it was like a guest so I was confused, but thanks! And by descendent, I'm not too sure… maybe both? LOL I'll try not to kill anymore protagonists, but you know, I'm like making a list of people to kill of xD so we'll see ^^ I'll add in a bit about Murtagh and Thorn next chapter!<p>

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><p>Guest – thanks! Mostly I use an Old Norse dictionary and alter a few letters and sounds because Old Norse is what Paolini used, but sometimes I use Swedish and Gaelic<p>

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><p>Restrained Freedom – LOL xD I kind of felt repetitive saying that but it had to be done xD thank you :)<p>

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><p>Phoenix1592 – It's impossible not to give this kid titles ._.;; he has too many names lol but thanks for the review~<p>

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><p>Peachesbaby – umm.. Let's see I think I meant to say two years =.=;; oh well… I'll try fixing that sometime paha xD and as for sleeping, I'm pretty sure they can truly sleep, it's just they usually choose not to, like the Hands. And at this moment, he kind of broke his connection with Saphira so she's not really affected by anything that happens to him, a combination of the wards and Cadian magic.. I should have explained that : LOL and it's ok xD thanks for your reviews :)

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><p>TheRedReader – lol no more Alagaësia to fight over xD thank you~ ^^<p>

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><p>Darth Feanor – LOL thanks :D I'm trying to find the right pace, it's kind of hard though :

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><p>Anon123 – I'm not really sure what you mean by that ._.<p> 


	39. Arucane

**Chapter 38 - _Arucane_**

"_There are just some things in life that never die out. But those things lie not in the mind, my friend. They lie in your heart."_

_~Calélas/Blödhgarm-_elda_, the Lost Sage_

"'Tis a dance!" One Who Kills roared with the much-unnecessary gusto of one who was passionate about what they did. His passion being killing, of course. "Let go! Hold nothing back, this is not a slow dance, 'tis a dance of war!"

As if to prove his point, the huge man thrust his sword through the breastplate of another man, impaling the warrior on the metal blade. Easily lifting the dead body up, he threw it away, cutting through the throngs of battling beings.

One Who Sings of War skillfully stayed by his side, her sword whirring, fending off thrusts and parrying other weaponry with the elegance of one who was accustomed to fighting.

His arm moved on its own accord, deflecting a blow, unbalancing the assailant, Nameless lashing out with his foot, landing a solid hit against the helmet, breaking something as the man fell down, unmoving. Again, thoughtlessly, he ducked under a swinging round object bristling with mini-swords, his sword cutting the dark figure's hand off, his opponent wordlessly drawing a sword with his other hand, the spiked ball flying away, striking some unfortunate soul in the back, another scream added to the symphony of destruction. Spinning his sword as if he knew what he was doing, he swung, the blades clashing with a musical ringing, the two weapons twirling again and again. They struck at each other, lost in a dance that was so mesmerizing and addictive. The figure scored a cut on his cheek, but Nameless ignored the pain, too deep in focus to notice the harsh sting. Using his metal-clad arm, he wrapped it around the sword, his hand grabbing the crossguard as he ripped the weapon from his enemy's grip, doing something with his hand that brought the hilt to his vise-like hold, slicing the head off his adversary's head. He threw the stolen sword at another foe, driving it through his neck, Nameless running after the One Who Kills and the One Who Sings of War, the two blazing forward furiously, parting the waves of people with their ferocity, leaving only a trail of dead and dying bodies behind them.

His hard-skinned companion was lustily tearing through the beings with an ease that was unmatchable. Her greater size, her extra arms with hard clothes draping them, her sword-like things in her mouth and at the ends of her legs and hands, she was like an invincible killer, wading through the bodies. Red liquid dripped from every inch of her majestic form, his friend shaking herself, the droplets of the crimson water falling off of her, just to reappear as she began her rampage all over again.

It seemed endless, and slowly, a strange heaviness began to take hold of him, making his strokes less powerful and letting a few more blows through. His arms shivered now and then, dull pain echoing through his body. Yet the people just kept coming.

He hacked and slashed, One Who Sings of War carefully weaving a wall of protection around him with her sword, him fighting against multiple enemies in return. One Who Kills was somewhere close by, they just followed the sound of his laughing and the loudest screams.

"We're almost through the thickest of the fighting!" One Who Kills shouted to him, simply punching a man in the face with his metal-covered hand, a sickening crunch and blood-choked cry coming from his victim.

Time was a lost concept.

Even though One Who Sings of War had quickly summarized this thing called time as a way people used to measure the world's life, here, it seemed like it didn't matter how much time passed. But he knew a lot of time had passed by the growing pain going through his limbs.

When they finally broke through the last of the battle, they came to a splendorous plain of ground, and farther on, a sky-colored trail of what One Who Sings of War had called water, a fast-moving road of metal-like, sky-like liquid.

"I have been asked to accompany you 'til the end, sister, and brother," One Who Kills said, dipping his huge sword in the water, a trial of sunset rushing away from it, cleaning the blade. "I shall do my duty."

One Who Sings of War nodded, "Your companionship shall be appreciated, brother."

"What is 'brother'?" Nameless asked as they walked towards the water.

"Brother is something used to call one with the same sire who is a man, or of a close friend who is a man. Sister is the same, yet it is a girl," she explained, taking off the hood that had masked the thing called a face, revealing something he couldn't quite put into words.

The strange glimmering orbs set around the middle line of her face were a strange shade that was not the color of fire, but a little more… ground-like? Not of the soft things called grass, but of the bare ground, the little, course pieces that felt rough to his hands. Dirt? Yes, she called it dirt. There was so much on the face he couldn't name, but it was all perfectly symmetrical and slender and…

"Beautiful!" One Who Kills laughed, slapping his back in an amiable way. "That, brother, is what we call beautiful. I see you are one of them. You see, this is a nose, those are ears, a mouth—which is what you speak by, and those beauties, those are what we call eyes."

As the burly man explained, he tapped each one on his own face, Nameless committing the terms to memory.

One Who Sings of War's mouth tilted, in voluntarily causing him to do the same. She bowed her head, Nameless unsure of what to do next.

"'Tis a bow," One Who Kills said. "It is a sign of respect, do you know what that is?"

Nameless shook his head as she straightened, their trio coming to the edge of the water as she peered down, sticking her arm into it.

"How shall I put this," the big man muttered to himself. "Ah… Say there is a great man. One who is good in all aspects of his life. Brave, a powerful warrior, kind and gentle as One Who Sings of War, and wise in all ways. All would look up to him and know he is someone they can trust and admire. That is respect."

"What is trust?" Nameless asked.

The man hesitated slightly.

The huge beast companion landed, walking over to them, jumping in the water without second thought, washing herself clean from the carnage.

"If I told you to kill her right now, would you?"

Nameless turned to see the warrior pointing to One Who Sings of War.

"No!" he exclaimed.

"And she knows that. She trusts you to do what is best for her, even to the point of her own life. You can close your eyes and know she won't try to stab you through your chest and leave you to rot. Because you trust her. Your dragon over there, you have a bond of trust. She will come to rescue you when you are in need, and you would do the same. That is trust. Do not consider it lightly, for it is a matter of life and death."

He slowly nodded.

"The water is not too deep, we can easily cross the river," One Who Sings of War said, stepping into the flowing stream.

"This is a river?" Nameless asked, following her lead.

She laughed, "So curious, my friend. But that is good. Aye, this is a river. There are smaller ones called streams and tributaries, and when it does not run like this but stops and collects, it is a pond, lake, or ocean."

"The water feels wonderful," he marveled.

His two companions smiled, One Who Kills ducking under the water for a few moments, resurfacing as he swept the strange, dirt-colored grasses that grew from his head and his head also.

"What is this?"

"Hair! 'tis the glory of a warrior and of every being! You have very nice hair for a man," One Who Kills chuckled. "You are of the fairer race. One Who Sings of War is a woman, their hair is one of the most important things."

Indeed, her hair was marvelous. It shone with the shade of the sun, a golden cascade like a river over her slender shoulders that her cowl had hidden for so long. Nameless blinked, shaking his head as he splashed some water over his tired body, the rivulets of the red blotches coming off with the water and soothing the burning fire in his arms.

"What is this fire-colored water?" he asked as they began to walk through the waist-high water.

"Blood," was One Who Sings of War's curt reply.

One Who Kills lowered his voice so only he could hear.

"She likes not blood or killing. Though she sings of war, she only sings of the ends, not the massacres that come before. Bless her kind heart."

"Bless?"

"To give a wish of well-being."

"Ah," he said softly. "Why does she not like blood or killing?"

The big man patted his shoulder, "When the time comes, she will tell you herself, friend. Come, we still have much to travel."

* * *

><p>Arya hauled Aelwyn up to the top of the sheer cliff, unhesitatingly offering a hand down to Sarissa, the resurrected Hand taking it, nodding her thanks. The elven princess smiled reassuringly, Kalyn swooping up on his wings along with Calayn, the two dreamwraiths landing atop the climb, their sharp eyes surveying the land around them.<p>

"We can wait here," Calayn concluded, Sarissa looking about them, giving her silent approval.

"Aye, the land here is good. Calayn and Kalyn can hunt need be, we can gather the fruits and plants around us, I recognize many of them," Arya agreed. "Let's set up camp here."

"Why am I the only man around here?" Kalyn asked abruptly.

Aelwyn laughed, "It's alright, Sarissa can be exceptionally manly."

The older Hand frowned, "I'm quite feminine, sister."

"But your muscles, and your strength, an-."

Sarissa grabbed Aelwyn, tickling her side, "And my ways of overpowering you?" she teased, the two Hands wrestling playfully, laughing and rolling on the plateau of the mountain. It was a side of the fearsome warriors people rarely saw. It was endearing to say the least.

Though it would take eons for Arya to find the gall to say it, she could see why Eragon had loved Sarissa. The simplicity of the woman, her elegance, beauty, the sense of calm around her, the control, the discipline, yet with a playful, loving side she reserved for those she cared for, a gentleness balanced with her harsh warrior side. She was the epitome of equilibrium. Somehow she had found the strength to sit right upon the line of sanity and insanity, death and life, love and hatred.

Where normal beings would see beauty and awe-inspiring perfection, Arya saw peace, serenity, and a state of being where she knew she could not reach until she died. And even then she would have a hard time finding peace within herself.

* * *

><p>Death was uneasy. And for a primordial lord of the universe, that was unnerving. So he was both uneasy and unnerved. A very disturbing combination.<p>

Time's hood turned to him.

"Brother, what troubles your heart?" Time asked, her majestic, serene, ever-calm voice echoing through the great chamber.

"Lord Naûth'ra's betrayal still does not come easily to me."

"Neither does it to any of us, Lord Hélos, we shall overcome the threat together as we always have and shall," Lord Chaos said. "Be at peace, brother."

Death nodded, leaning back in his seat, watching the other primordial lords speak in hushed tones.

Lord Order stood up, the shimmering silver-white hue of his armor and cloak nearly blinding. There was much golden embroidery gracing his armor and clothing, marking him as the head Primordial among them, as did his spear-like scepter, Ny'ava. Like most of the others, his face was hidden under his cowl, a shadow of black darkness.

"Our number today is short one due to Lord Naûth'ra's betrayal of the High Council and the will of the Celestials. The Council of Light I have spoken with, and the Council of Shadows, and they have chosen to task the High Council with Lord Vengeance," Anau'il said, his dove-white hood turning to face each of them. "We must move now. Or move not at all."

Death got to his feet, "I volunteer. Already I have sent for someone, a mortal, who may help me."

"He will be able to help you?"

The High Council fell silent at the sound of Lady Viru's voice. She was a being of little words, but when she spoke, all the primordial lords listened for her voice of wisdom was held in high esteem.

Hélos inclined his head respectfully, "I believe so, Lady Viru."

Valkyra spoke up, "Then I shall join you, brother. I hope you shall accept my help."

He smiled reassuringly at possibly his closest friend among the primordial lords, "Aye, of course I shall, sister."

I'aríya stood, "As will I, if you shall accept."

"You have my sword, if you shall take it, as well," Akura said, his noble voice echoing through the chamber.

"I accept both your offers," Death said calmly, nodding in thanks at the two lords.

Anau'il rapped the bottom of Ny'ava against the marble ground, "Then it is decided. Lord Hélos, I charge you with Lord Naûth'ra's capture."

"Capture?"

"His punishment shall be decided by the three Councils following his capture, friend. Please, do not go against their wishes."

Death grunted, sitting down as he silently pondered about a new plan. His original plan would most definitely go against the councils' wishes.

"I believe everything we need to discuss has been put before us and decided. Council adjourned."

* * *

><p>Valkyra came up behind him, setting a gentle hand on his armored shoulder. The trailing wisp of the sleeve of her dress settled around his back, swaying with his cloak.<p>

"It bothers you much?"

"He was a friend. A good one. It still surprises me that he would turn his back from the path we had all agreed to walk down so many years ago."

She nodded slowly, comfortingly taking his hand, a silent remnant of their past lives.

"What is your plan?"

He shrugged heavily, "Confront him face to face. Speak with him. And if we need to, fight him."

Death held out his hand, his scythe, his greatest symbol, materializing in his hand, spinning it with the ease of millennia of use.

Amarana, it was named. And aptly so, for oblivion was what it gave.

He let it go, the weapon vanishing into thin air.

"Come. There is a place we should visit. It has been far too long."

* * *

><p>"Day and night, light and darkness, it is a cycle that shall never end," One Who Sings of War explained. "The sun by day, the moon and stars by night."<p>

Nameless looked up at the dark sky, seeing the glowing dots and the huge orb that glowed the brightest. There was something hauntingly familiar about them, a heartbreaking memory that stood at the edge of his empty mind, as if about to fall in yet holding onto the ledge with one hand.

"Your memories shall return in time, friend," she assured, her bronze eyes, as he figured out the color was called, gazing at him with a quiet promise to hold true to her word.

"Will I remember our journey?" he asked, suddenly thinking of something.

She smiled, "Brother, this journey shall be unforgettable."

_Brother_.

He nodded, slowly looking back up at her.

"I… trust you. Sister."

* * *

><p>Death shrugged off his cloak, setting it on the stand, slowly and reverently walking into the temple of the One Light. Light swiftly entered behind him, the two lords passing under huge arches and gateways of light, the flitting spirits of good and kindness that graced the halls of the divine temple. It had been ages since they had set foot on these hallowed grounds, walked through the holy gardens of life and perfection. Anau'il had kept to his word and had created a magnificent temple for Him. Words would do the place no justice. Walls of the most soothing golden hue, the soft singings and whisperings of the spirits, the life of the garden around them, the huge trees, the towering pillars, everything emanated life.<p>

"Brother, sister," the Lord of Order said, walking towards them from where he had been sitting, cross-legged under an enormous tree of impossible proportion. A pleasant look of surprise came over his face, for not many of the lords visited a place that reminded them too much of the past. "It is a blessing to have your presence among us."

Hélos smiled, "You have truly created a wonder, brother. None can compare to a place like this, even Anda'víl would have much hardship trying to match this beauty."

"I'aríya helped much with the creation of this place," Anau'il said modestly, for that was the nature of order.

Valkyra smiled in awe as a shimmering butterfly lighted on her outstretched finger, her impeccable, perfectly shaped features as if made by an artist lighting up with joy. She gently brushed the wings with her delicate finger, the butterfly crawling about her hand, fluttering away soon.

"Come, the greatest chamber is yet to be seen," Order said happily, leading his two friends deeper into the great sanctuary.

When the Council of Light had commissioned the High Council to gather their followers and create the Sanctuary of the One Light, they had asked but one thing, that all twelve would contribute to the Chamber of Light, and thus the twelve had offered up a bit of their essence to mold into whatever the chamber had needed. Yet none save Anau'il and I'aríya had seen it.

The two angelic guards outside the room moved aside, bowing to the three lords, Hélos nodding in return, Anau'il halting for a moment to bow back. He pushed open the two titanic doors, revealing… perfection.

It was a round room with no wall, leaving the onlookers to survey the heavenly forests, mountains, valleys, rivers, and wilderness of the Sanctuary of the One Light, an awe-inspiring view from atop the plateau the temple stood upon. The sunset struck the skies with all the colors of the rainbow and everything in between, an ethereal display of the realm of Order. The chamber in itself was magnificent, twelve pillars, each representing one of the twelve realms. Hélos recognized the architectural style of his lands, the jaggedness, the crude strength of death, a force of nature unstoppable. Across from it stood the pillar representing Valkyra's domain, a pillar of life, of trees and nature and of the water and the veins of existence that had wrought life. The breath of the One Light. Beasts of the air flitted to and from the pillar, a natural beauty, pun slightly intended.

There was a statue in the center of the circular room, a cloaked, masked figure standing with his arms held open, a feeling of warmth, of welcome, of protection coming from just looking at the marvelous work of art.

All around the room, there was a channel of oil, a fire never-ending, a fire lit by the man who was depicted in the stone. A fire lit by his sacrifice. He gently touched the lukewarm flames, his immortal hands simply shimmering in the heat.

Hélos slowly knelt before the statue, the other two following suit.

So many words wanted to tumble out of his mouth. Words of thanks, words of sorrow, of happiness, telling this figure, this man, all he had done. The changes he had wrought, the sacrifices he had given, the new chance at life gifted to them with his final breath. Time had passed, but his legacy would not go away. Hélos knew that. They all did. Just like the flames, his name would be entwined with history, whether written or hidden, whether said or unsaid. He missed him. He longed for his friend to be with them still. He wished he could have done something, but he knew nothing could have been done. So many things whirled like a gale through his everlasting mind.

Yet out of all those thoughts, he could say but one thing.

"Thank you, Li'an."

* * *

><p>Translation: <em>Arucane <em>(title) – Undying/eternal flame

Ny'ava (divine) – name meaning rule/reign

Amarana (divine) – name meaning oblivion/destruction/pandemonium

* * *

><p>TN: Soawier crap I can't make another language, too many languages to deal with. awoeirja. Gahhhhh Dx<p>

Just the title is Paolini's, the names of the Primordial Lords and their weaponry is mine

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><p>List of the Primordial Lords and their names, their colors, and weapon<p>

Order – Anau'il (ah-NYE-yhil) – dove-white, gold and silver – spear/scepter

Chaos – Ka'ara (kah-HAH-rah) – crimson and gold – flammable gold sword

Death – Hélos (HAYL-loehs) – obsidian-black and silver – scythe

Life (Lady) – Valkyra (vāl-KEE-rah) – evergreen and gold – swordstaff

Light – Akura (ah-KOO-rah) – gold – twin golden greatsword with Darkness

Darkness – Anvéra (ānn-VAY-rah) – pure black – twin black greatsword with Light

Time (Lady) – Mara (MAH-rah) – bronze – staff

Vengeance – Naûth'ra (nah-OO-hthrah) – orange and gold – knives and daggers

Peace (Lady) – Ei'rena (ay-RHEHN-ah) – various shades of blue – no weapons

Beauty (Lady) – Méi'la (MAY-hlah) – rosy-pink – bow and arrow

Wisdom (Lady) – Viru (vee-ROO) – royal purple – chain whip

Ethereality (Lady) – I'aríya (ee-HAH-ree-yah) – iridescent, pearly – katana

Unknown – Li'an (LEE-hahn) – unknown - unknown

* * *

><p>They are all technically referred to as lords, but there are feminine lords and masculine lords. Being celestial beings, they don't really have a gender, I would guess, but they have distinctive traits that set them in genders, but whether female or male, they can all be called lords, just so you all don't get confused xD<p>

It's so hard to explain life to a person who has forgotten everything. Jesus why did I make Eragon lose his memories Dx oh well

And why the hell do I want to write center as centre and gray like grey and color like colour, and gah lol I'm like turning british ok paha

Oh and for the names, the ' in Greek is used to make a soft/hard "h" sound, so that's how I decided to use it lol

* * *

><p>AN: Please don't get mad, AP Government is a pain T.T and I've been really busy with personal writings, I'm taking creative writing and my English class is seriously starting to keep me busy… when breaks roll around, I promise I'll start cranking out chapters at least once a week or twice if I can manage…. just bear with me for now D: thank you for everyone who's kept up with this story~<p>

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><p>Dessert Maniac – paha thank you! ^^<p>

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><p>D-saintsation-b – thank you~ :)<p>

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><p>Wondrous-Serendipity – I guess we'll just have to see mm? ;) thank you! and sorry for the really long wait Dx<p>

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><p>Darth Feanor – LOL time for irony xD thank you!<p>

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><p>Phoenix1592 – I honestly can't find a place to put Murtagh in… I'll find the next best spot and give him a long bit! Thank you :)<p>

* * *

><p>Renaissancbooklover108 – I tend to do that xD<p>

* * *

><p>Silverwing – reaks?...<p>

* * *

><p>Silverwing – there is a red string that is said to connect two people who are meant for each other, it can twist, get tangled, but never break. His is tangled.<p>

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><p>Silverwing – are you speaking about the title Lord Rider?...<p>

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><p>Guest – too much fluff makes a story pointless, not enough is a safe precaution to make the story better. My apologies.<p> 


	40. Marinar (Repost)

**AU AT THE END FOR EXPLANATION FOR +YEAR HIATUS**

**Chapter 39 - **_**Maninar**_

"_I think a true artist does not excel at finding beauty. Nay, most people can do that with ease, but the true artists are those who find beauty in everything they find."_

_~Lady I'aríya, Lady of Ethereality _

The One Who Sings of War leapt to her feet, "Brothers!"

Nameless started awake, yawning as One Who Kills hauled him up, the two following her gaze as they saw a lone rider yonder upon the hill.

"Who is it?" One Who Kills asked warily, his hand drifting to the great sword on his back.

"Friendly, worry not, brother, I think I know who it is," she murmured, watching as the figure came closer within a distance where they could make out his—no her—features.

Abruptly, One Who Kills fell on his knees, "Milady!"

One Who Sings of War followed suit, "Milady, your presence is most welcome."

The being who slightly resembled One Who Sings of War slid off her steed, smiling warmly, "Friends, it has been too long."

Her eyes fell upon him, a piercing color like a certain shade of the late day as the sun set.

"So. You are he who has been summoned."

Her voice was calculating where it had been warm moments before, as if she doubted something about him he didn't know.

Unsure what to do, he bowed his head, "I think so."

She nodded, "I am Lady Valkyra, one of the twelve. I was sent to guide you to the citadel."

"Your protection is much appreciated, milady," One Who Kills said.

She glanced at him, smiling slightly before it vanished as she looked back at Nameless, as if something about him bothered her immensely.

"Come, there is still much you must see."

* * *

><p>That night, Valkyra watched the human slumber against his dragon, her mind still wondering why Hélos had chosen him. He was in love. That made him blind, weak, unable to make the best decisions should it hurt her, and she knew it.<p>

She of all people would know it.

Her riding clothes felt so much more restricting compared to the dresses and cloaks she usually wore where her legs could move freely under the trails of the silken fabric, but that thought was completely irrelevant and she honestly didn't know where that had come from.

His underworld form had retained all of its earthly characteristics, powerful body, and handsome, yet there was something more primal about it beneath the world. More jagged, cruel, harsh, animalistic.

A distant memory tugged at the back of her mind, one she violently pushed aside.

"I doubt him."

One Who Sings of War looked over at the Primordial Lord curiously.

"Why, if I may ask, milady."

Valkyra sighed, shaking her head.

"He is blind."

The warrior looked at Nameless, her eyes gently taking him in.

"I do not."

The Lady of Light was slightly surprised.

One Who Sings of War held the beings gaze, smiling softly.

"His love does not make him weaker. No, his love is what keeps him human."

"Humans are not strong either."

"Nay, milady… I think they are stronger than many would see them as."

The primordial celestial being hesitated, once again looking over Nameless.

"I suppose all we may do now is pray that you are right."

Fireflies swirled around their camp.

* * *

><p>Calélas quietly meditated, quite aware of Mistress Valnaia standing behind him, her eyes raking over him calculatingly.<p>

"You seek something, mistress?"

"Nay, I am just intrigued by you, master elf."

Without a word, a gust of wind swept around the elven warrior, lifting him off the ground as he landed on his feet, turning towards her, hazel eyes glinting in the early morning sun.

"Were you not intrigued by me before?"

"I was more intimidated than intrigued, my lord."

Calélas chuckled, "Save your titles for _Shur'tugal_ when he returns, mistress. I am simply Calélas of the Forests. Come, walk with me. I promise I do not bite like I might once have been able to."

* * *

><p>Dathrys knelt swiftly with a clash of obsidian-black armor.<p>

"Lord Hélos, my liege."

Death smiled at his captain, indicating for him to follow him.

"The words you have planted within Murtagh. You are doing well, Dathrys."

The fallen Bladelord inclined his head, "Milord."

Hélos paused slightly, hesitating before continuing walking.

"I still feel guilt within you, Dathrys. Much guilt. Doubt. Hatred of yourself. None of which belongs there."

He lowered his head, knowing all too well his commander knew all that went within his soul. The Lord of the Dead suffered none of the thoughts of the living and dying.

Or the guilty.

"You know, milord."

"As I should."

They strode along the high walls of the Ave Thar'atan Cadaré, watching as the skeleton warriors mixed with the humans, the fleshed beings too used to the macabre sight to care anymore.

"I know something that may help."

Dathrys spun as he saw a glowing aura of light, something that was unnatural in the burning lands of the dead.

"Lady Viru…"

The Lady of Wisdom smiled slightly, yet it held warmth immeasurable.

"Brother Hélos."

Death bowed, "Sister Viru."

The violet-clad primordial looked over Dathrys' practically prostrate form, a small, tiny laugh ringing out from her lips.

"Captain Dathrys, come walk with me."

* * *

><p>Dathrys knew little of the twelve primordial lords and ladies, but he knew Lady Wisdom's words were most revered, even more so than Lord Anau'il in all his majesty and power. Lord Hélos always spoke of how the greatest of their order tended to be headstrong, but how even he would defer to the wisdom of Lady Viru, and now he stood within her presence.<p>

"Hélos told me of your soul, friend. He asked me to help you let go of your guilt and end your spirit's pain and suffering."

"Milady, I am honored," he said, doing his best not to stammer.

She laughed again, "Dathrys, do not be afraid. I was once a human like you, not much has changed. Tell me. What lies in your heart?"

He did a double take, unsure how to proceed.

"You already know all, my lady."

"You will find more solace should you say the words yourself," she instructed.

She watched him carefully as he took a deep, shuddering breath.

"I killed her."

"Killed who?" she asked, gently sitting him down on a bench.

"_Délanaval_. Bladesinger… No, Náonin."

She could read his eyes all too clearly.

The half-blood meant much to him. Enough that he would say her true name, her earthly name, and then the name his heart knew her by, correcting himself.

"Why?"

Then something interesting happened.

Everything went blank.

"I… I do not know, milady," he whispered. "It is as if that part of my mind is blank. I remember kissing her. Then running my sword through her chest and leaving her to die… Why?... I do not know…"

She took his arm, unlatching the armor with a swift flick of her fingers, running her slender fingers down his bare forearm.

Her brows furrowed.

"_Néu kiyan anas. Ner'ílen_."

A snake, glowing orange like the sunset shimmered on his skin.

"Naûth'ra," she hissed.

Another word and a swipe of her hand, the symbol shattered on his arm, the glowing shards dissipating into smoke.

"Come with me."

* * *

><p>Valkyra pulled Nameless onto the ledge, nodding as he smiled his thanks. She indicated for him to move towards the left, the part-man, mostly-elf edging towards the landing between the cliffs, carefully sticking himself to the wall of rock.<p>

One Who Sings of War leapt up the side, hauling herself up with her powerful arms, keen eyes sweeping over the Spirit Passage. It was known to be crawling with unsavory animals, but more worrying than the animals were the malevolent spirits that inhabited the area, hence the name of the pass.

"I feel something, sister."

She glanced over at Nameless, noticing his distant gaze as he stared into the pass, her mind instantly racing to come up with some explanation that would appease his curious mind.

The Lady of Light held up her hand, walking up beside him.

"Go. They call for you. We cannot help you. This is something you must learn on your own, my child."

One Who Sings of War opened her mouth, but a powerful glare from the Primordial silenced her.

She knew the mistress was right.

Lady Valkyra was always right.

Nameless nodded, leaping down the short cleft with ease, landing in a cloud of dust.

"Follow him, sky queen," One Who Sings of War said to the dragoness, the serpentine creature flying after him without a moment's hesitation.

* * *

><p>It was a cold place. Wind blew around him and the chill struck through his soul, as if made up of something other than just molecules of air.<p>

His whole being shivered from the inside out.

_Come._

His head snapped up as he looked around him desperately.

He knew that voice.

He knew that voice so well that his heart leapt at the sound of it calling to him even if he didn't know who or what it was.

_Come._

"Where are you?" he called, turning about.

No answer.

"Who are you?" he yelled, trying to find the source of the voice. "Answer me, please!"

_Come, _Shur'tugal.

* * *

><p>Calélas sat cross-legged in the tall-grass, Evilan asleep in his powerful arms as the elf watched the birds bathe in the shallows of Leona Lake, other waterfowl and wild animals congregating in mutual peace as they came to the water.<p>

"Nature is at peace with itself," he said softly, Valnaia standing beside him, arms crossed, body taut and ready to spring. "The animals, prey and predator, understand each other's needs. They do not use treaties or words, yet the two can come to the same water and drink contentedly without fear. Hunter and the hunted, they both drink side by side. And yet you, the greatest of the beasts here, are more worried and fearful than all of them combined."

The Hand looked at him with surprise, ready to spit out a retort until she saw the calm smile on his face, somehow draining all the spite out of her.

"I am a Hand of Death. Death is never calm."

He chuckled, shaking his head, holding out a hand.

"Come, sit by me."

She glanced at the hand, scoffed, but settled in the grass beside him, her eyes almost glaring out at the lake.

"Mistress, be calm. Can you not sense the serenity around you?"

"Serenity is a lie."

"Serenity is the only truth."

Her gaze softened.

"There's something terrifying about the peace."

"Like something will come shattering the gentleness of your surroundings without a moment notice? Like the peace will never last?"

"Something along those lines, but in my case, with a lot more curses and a lot less eloquence, milord," she smirked.

A blast of wind crashed into her stomach, knocking the breath out of her lungs and tossing her back into the grass.

"Now, while you're catching your breath, do enjoy the sky. It is exceptionally beautiful today, I don't believe I've seen such a lovely lavender over my long lifetime."

Before she could protest, a vine wrapped around her mouth, Calélas shaking a finger admonishingly as if he were her father.

"No arguing. Enjoy."

She tapped the vines, her touch withering the magic in them as she internally sighed, looking up at the bland colours she knew too well.

"I don't see it."

He laughed, "Of course you don't mistress. For one who is called a Hand of Death, it will be hard to celebrate life. But we will get there. You will see one day."

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><p>Translation: <em>Maninar<em> (title) – Memories

_Néu kiyan anas. Ner'ílen _(dreamwraith tongue/divine) – You hide much. Unveil.

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><p>AU: First off, I am awfully apologetic for my yearlong plus hiatus. Also, I have to mention in the past year I have picked up typing and writing in British English for some reason and found it a lot more comfortable so before I get questions I felt like I should clear that up. Other than that, I've been exceptionally busy with my Junior year, which is basically the most important year to get into college for me, so it's mostly been homework, projects, tests, essays, and disgusting stuff of the like, so I am awfully sorry for the long time it took for me to write out this chapter. I honestly have so much more I want to do with this story so I'm going to spend a lot more time with this story and develop the plot and go deeper into detail about the Primordials and Nameless. I have not given up on this story but it will take me a lot of time getting it out of my head and onto my computer. Thank you so so so much for everyone who kept reading this story and for repetitively reminding me I should finish this story. It takes a lot of motivation for me to write these days as school has sucked any effort out of me, so I truly appreciate everyone's support. Thank you again, I'll be continually writing this summer, peace, everyone enjoy your vacations :) I promise I will have an actual new chapter out as soon as possible.<p>

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><p>Firestar3271 - Good work. c:<p>

Thank you :)

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><p>Guest - Dude this is the best fanfiction,I have ever read, saying that I think you need to hurry the story along and possible even add a sequel<p>

Haha, there probably will not be a sequel even though I have one planned out already to be honest. The length and effort it took for me to write this story is and was draining and I'm not sure I can dedicate much time but we'll see, otherwise, thank you :)

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><p>Guest - I personally think, instead of Arya you should have aelwyn be eragon"s love interest, she is a much better character, and way sexier. Then again it's your story<p>

Aelwyn is not really a love interest, her character is just flirtatious and I do not plan on furthering their relationship to anything beyond friendship.

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><p>Naiden - the deal with this hand of death group is stupid. Completely unrealistic considering how she has power that rivals Galbortix even though he has the Eldunari. Honestly, that power is unbelievable.<p>

i honestly like this story, until this mistriss stuff started happening.

as each chapter goes by, i find myself wanting to just quit reading this story all together. I don't know why you felt the need to add this Sarissa character, because to me, your story went downhill ever since she was introduced.

Sarissa, in my opinion, was and is crucial to forging Eragon's character into what I want it to be for the rest of my story. It also has given him a fighting edge and taught him more than he ever could have with simply being with elves. Also, it matured him a lot faster than in the original cycle did and gave a much more viable explanation for a quick maturation of character. I'm sorry you had issues with Sarissa and the Hands of Death, but I will explain why their powers can rival Galbatorix later as well, so with their relatively new appearance, please do give me some time to develop their abilities and history.

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><p>Guest - Please please post another chapter. This is the best fanfiction ever and I want to read more! It has literally been the best book ever and it almost brought teasers to my eyes to see it stopped mid-story. Please post another chapter<p>

Praise Allah I have posted a chapter

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><p>Guest - I have to ask, are you going to keep the this story going or what.<p>

Hell yeah I am, I put way too much time into this abomination to give up on it now


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Inheritance Cycle, Friendship, Romance