For Alagaesia: 83. Rebirth of a reluctant monster

The march to the black city of Galbatorix was among the gloomiest weeks he had ever spent in his life. For all the impressive speeches Roran delivered, the mood of doom and gloom never seemed to be lifted. The elves who were already known for mood swings of an unfathomable degree had fallen into a melancholy of sorts and their sadness seemed to rub off on the Humans and the Dwarves.

The only group that was enthusiastic about their march to death was the Urgal army. They sung every night in camps about the glory they were going to earn from fighting Galbatorix, although Eragon wasn’t sure who will sing those glories when all of them would be dead. He only hoped that the Urgal settlements hidden deep in the Spine would hear of how valiantly their kin fought before facing death and that Galbatorix will let them be after crushing the marching Urgals.

Nearly a fortnight after Arya and Indra had crushed all hopes of Eragon and Saphira of saving the former pair’s lives by proclaiming that Arya loved Eragon much like Eragon did Arya, the senior dragon-rider pair approached the elven rider and her dragon with another proposition.

It was a serene spring night and the Varden had pitched their tents along the banks of the Ramr river which was little more than a stream at the point of its origin but the Spring had brought with it fresh waters and it was a pleasant environment. But for Eragon and Saphira who had requested Indra and Arya to join them on the other bank of Ramr where it was dark and calm, nothing seemed pleasant for their minds were like sparrows caught in the eye of a raging storm.

They had to wait for a while before the dragon and rider showed up. Arya looked everywhere but at him and he couldn’t fault her. She was basically forced to accept that she harboured romantic feelings for him. He knew how much she valued her privacy and freedom. Even Indra who had been a dear friend of his ever since his hatching looked at him with an indifferent eye.

‘Why did you summon us?’ Indra asked. Although, his question seemed to be posed generally Eragon could feel that it was directed at Saphira.

‘We have a request to make of you.’ Saphira told him just as indifferently.

‘We are in no position to oblige.’ Indra said back coldly.

Saphira growled at him. ‘We did not force her to love Eragon. My Eragon was ready to sacrifice her to any other more deserving man. It was you who admitted her feelings.’ She said pointedly barely controlling her anger.

‘So?’ Indra asked.

‘So you don’t have to act so cross.’

‘Hah! Would you have left us to our devices if we hadn’t admitted her feelings? No. You would have forced us until we gave up.’

A stream of fire escaped Saphira’s snout. Eragon placed a hand to her side urging her to calm down. This wasn’t a time to fight. This was time to make them understand.

‘I will not allow you to die so young, Indra!’ Saphira thundered.

‘As if you are so old!’ Indra shot back ‘You are what? Three years older than me? What is it when compared to the countless years we are supposed to live?’

A series of images and smells that Eragon could hardly make any meaning out of were transferred from Saphira’s mind to Vanendra’s. But the green dragon obviously caught her meaning seeing as a response made of smells and images passed from him to Saphira. Again Eragon was lost in the wordless language of the dragons. For all he knew the dragon had conveyed hours of words in those few seconds.

But when Saphira got Indra’s reply, she was so furious that she pounced on Indra. If not for an alert Arya, the situation would have turned unmanageable. But as it was, the elven princess cast a spell to hold Saphira in place. With her eyes, she motioned Eragon to talk to Saphira.

Having no idea of what happened between Saphira and Vanendra, Eragon send soothing feelings into Saphira’s mind.

His dragon took her time to respond, but when she did, her mind was so full of grief that tears threatened to fall from Eragon’s eyes. ‘He won’t understand! I don’t want to lose him Eragon. I really don’t!’

‘He is set on accompanying us. We can’t make decisions for them Saphira. It will only push them away from us.’ Eragon said having given up any hope of them convincing Indra and Arya to turn their backs on the battle. They had hoped that they could use Indra’s youth against them but the green dragon was so clear in his decision.

The great spires of Uru’baen became visible the next afternoon after they had crossed the Ramr and marched a few more leagues in the easterly direction. That night they pitched their tents in the open plains. The black city was waiting for them looking sleepy and calm.

‘The calm before the storm.’ Eragon thought as he looked at the city leaning against Saphira. With longing eyes, he watched Arya who lay a little away from him, resting much like him, with her head placed on one of Indra’s legs. Shantiyastra, the historic blade rested in its scabbard near her. She wore her customary black leather outfits, although a hard elven breast plate had been added to her armour. She also wore her flowery diadem over her head instead of the leather band that she usually wore.

Now that her position as the elven princess was known to even Galbatorix, she seemed to make no effort to hide it. But then knowing Arya, he guessed that it must have been because of Islanzadi’s pestering that she wore the diadem.

He sighed. She was so near and yet he couldn’t approach her. He badly wanted to hold her in his arms; enwrap her within him so that nothing could hurt her without harming him first. But then, he also knew she would not like such thoughts crossing his mind. She was an independent soul who strove hard to take care of herself.

As he watched her, drinking in her form and lamenting his lack of courage to approach her, she turned around to face him and their eyes met. It was as if the two of them wanted nothing but to look elsewhere but were bound by some invisible force to keep looking at each other.

They sat there like that, eyes locked for hours on end, even though a whole platoon of men lay between them. Eragon’s eyes began to water when he thought that this might be the last night when he could enjoy the endless green ocean that was the elven princess’s eyes. And he hoped that she would live on and find happiness after tomorrow.

Their battle plan was simple. Their armies were to be divided into brigades which would include all four races with the elves and Urgals forming the flanks of each brigade. Within the brigades were to be battalions which would be one for each race. Roran was to be in command of three brigades. Orik was to command three and Orrin another three. All three of them would in turn report to Islanzadi under whose direct command were Eragon and Arya.

In all, Islanzadi commanded a fifty thousand strong army which was impressive. But if intelligence collected by the elven spies was true, each soldier of the Varden was to face three enemies. They would lay siege to the city like they would to any other and work on bringing Galbatorix out of the black gates for they knew they stood no chance against him inside it.

To lure Galbatorix and Shruikan out, they had resolved to capture Murtagh and Thorn who would surely come to face them. There simply wasn’t anymore plan because once Galbatorix was out, it was the responsibility of the riders to face him. And the riders knew nothing of how to defeat the king.

The sun rose the next morning and Eragon woke with it. He did not know when he had fallen asleep but his mind was filled with the fiery green swirls that he had somehow seen in Arya’s eyes from that distance last night. He was grateful for it because if he was to lose his life during the course of the day, her magnetic eyes would bring him peace in his last moments.

The men and women of the Varden were all preparing for the last march to the great black city. Eragon knew that all their hopes were pinned on him and the sheer weight of such a responsibility pushed him down into the ground and his knees felt weak. Was he leading them into their deaths while they could have remained safe in their forests and underground dwellings?

A message was sent to him saying that the leaders were holding one last council and that he was expected there. The messenger, a man of about twenty years, led him to a tent which had the Varden’s insignia on it. It was the Varden’s command tent.

All the captains and colonels of the varden army were assembled in the tent. Islanzadi, Roran and Orik stood in the front facing the assembled captains and colonels. Roran nodded to him gravely and signalled for him to join them. He was still angry with Eragon for deciding to join the battle without any proper plan to defeat Galbatorix. Eragon walked past the men, elves and dwarves most of whom seemed too young to lead much like himself.

He did not want to join the generals of the army for he was in no commanding position and so stood by Nar Garzhvog, Lord Dathedr and Grimstborith Íorûnn who all were to lead their own brigades. Soon after Orrin and Arya arrived together and he heard the dragons land outside.

Orrin went to join the generals while Arya came to stand by him. He did not look her in the eye although he moved closer to her so that he stood at touching distance from her. Thankfully, she did not try to put up any distance between them.

When every leader of the army was assembled, Islanzadi moved forward with all the grace associated with the elves. She surveyed the assembled men and women with a kind eye nodding at one or two of the men she knew personally.

Then the queen addressed the congregation thus: “Alagaesia was once a land of free people. The food produced by the humans were exchanged for the gold mined by the dwarves. The artifacts sung by the elves rested in the front rooms of every house in Alagaesia. The Urgals lived without quarrel alongside the humans and elves. And Illirea was the melting pot of all our races; the true capital city of Alagaesia. Crafted by the elves and developed by the humans, every house in the city was decorated by dwarven stone work. Elves, humans and dwarves lived in perfect harmony in the city. Every elf had as many human friends as they had elven ones and every human had as many dwarven friends as they had human ones. The Broddring kings were generous enough to host the others races permanently in the city.”

The queen paused at this point and a dreamy look came over her features. It was as if she was reminiscing on the past glory of Illirea. She continued in a more sombre voice: “We lost all that to Galbatorix a hundred years ago. The war we waged against the rising tyrant in those days in these very plains still remain vividly in my memory. The residents of Uru’baen might have forgotten the glory of Illirea but we won’t! We will reclaim Uru’baen and a new Illirea will be born!”

The captains hailed in unison hearing this. After that Islanzadi began to recount the battle strategies that they had decided to follow. Eragon listened to only half of what was being said. His attention was all focussed on the elven princess whose natural smell of crushed pine cones and morning dew reached his nostrils sending him into a blissful utopia.

Roran and Orik came to meet with him when the assembly was dismissed nearly an hour later. Islanzadi beckoned Arya to her and Eragon could not control his urge to run his fingers across the back of Arya’s hand before she left. Although she did not reciprocate his affection, he was thankful that she turned and looked him with kind eyes before walking to her mother.

“You never listened to me.” Roran stated. There was no emotion in his words which signified that he had finally accepted Eragon’s choice.

“I had to Roran.” Eragon said softly.

“Aye, Stronghammer. I agree with mine brother here. It would be better to die with those you love than to live to see them all being killed most brutally.” Orik said in his gruff voice.

Eragon put his arm around his adopted brother in gratitude. “Thank you, Orik.”

“Don’t die though.” Orik said in a low voice.

Eragon tried to laugh Orik off. But he knew that the dwarf king was being serious and he simply could not give him any assurance. He ended up nodding half heartedly. Orik took his meaning and gave him a curt nod.

“We have work to do.” Eragon said wanting to bail out. The hopelessness in the faces of his brothers suffocated him.

Roran nodded and captured him in a bear hug. Eragon patted his cousin in the back. “Everything will be alright, Roran. I promise you…,” he whispered in his cousin’s ear.

When Eragon released his cousin, he saw tears gathered in his eyes. Eragon smiled at him and turned away. Orik pulled Roran out of the tent before his tears could roll down his cheeks. Eragon bit his lower lip and blinked trying to push back the knot that had formed in his throat.

With the side of his eye, he saw Arya and Islanzadi hugging each other. Warmth spread in his mind when he thought of what Arya had told him earlier; that she had lost her mother seventy years ago when she decided to take up the yawe. The battle had at least given Arya her mother back. He only wished that the happiness would last after their confrontation with Galbatorix.

To give mother and daughter the privacy they required, Eragon left the tent and went to wait by Saphira and Indra who were both back as best friends. Dragon nature constantly amazed him. Once a decision was made, the dragons did not care about the past or what led to the decision - only the deed mattered thereafter.

Arya came out of the tent a few minutes later, her wet eyes testament to her emotional parting from her mother. Indra lowered his head and touched Arya on her brow. She scratched his head affectionately in return.

A loud battle horn blared in the distance signalling that the varden had begun its final march. The sound of the horn brought up a myriad of emotions into Eragon’s mind. He jerked his head around to look at Arya instinctively and was glad to find that she was looking for him already. He ran to her as fast as his feet would carry him across the hundred feet that separated them, but stopped short of hugging her knowing that she would not want him to initiate such a gesture.

Arya did not seem alarmed by his action. Rather she watched him with expectant eyes. When he stopped before her, she smiled sadly and took his hands into hers. She then proceeded to bury her face into his hands. Eragon closed his eyes reveling in the loving touch. It wasn’t much but it was more than enough for him.

Saphira allowed him a few moments of bliss before she alerted them to the fact that they had to lead the army from the front. Eragon released his hand from Arya’s grip and caught her face within his palms. Then without thinking how she would react, he reached forward and kissed her forehead. It was wordless act by which he meant nothing more than stay safe.

When he released her from his grip, Eragon found that Arya had closed her eyes. Not wanting to see her reaction to his action, he turned around and walked fast to Saphira.

‘Little one,’ Saphira said fondly when he placed his hand on her snout. There were no other words spoken between the four of them for the time for false promises was very much behind them.

Together, Eragon and Arya mounted the backs of Saphira and Indra respectively. Saphira let Indra lead the way and the younger dragon took his chance enthusiastically.

Two hours later, the dragons were flying leisurely keeping with the army at the request of Islanzadi. The city was just about half an hour’s ride on dragon back, its imposing citadel and spires looking more ominous than ever.

‘I notice some movement near the western gate.’ Saphira observed to Eragon and Indra. To Eragon’s eyes, nothing was clear but as always dragon eyes were much sharper than elven ones.

Before long a reconnaissance mission was commissioned of which Eragon and Saphira were to be the only participants. They would fly high in the sky so that enemies don’t discover them. But Saphira’s sharp vision would get them a clearer picture of what was up at the west gate.

What the two of them saw confirmed their doubts. Galbatorix was indeed serious about defending his city. A division of around twenty thousand men were arrayed outside the city gates. From their height, the composition wasn’t clear but they could say that at least one quarter of the army was mounted on horseback. They tried to discern as much information about the battle formation of the army as they could without being detected by the enemies and returned to the waiting Varden army.

The Varden had taken shelter behind a lone hill that stood on the terrain. When Eragon explained the situation at Uru’baen, Islanzadi decided to take a modest first step. A large band of archers and war machines were to be deployed against the waiting empire army. The archers were mostly elves and kull and the war machines were of dwarven make - meaning that they could be well out of reach of the empire’s devices and yet be in range to attack the empire’s army.

Blodhgarm was tasked to lead the company of archers while Orik assigned a dwarf from his clan to take command of the war machines. A backup brigade was to be on standby at calling distance from the company should they need assistance.

Eragon and Saphira waited at the head of the backup brigade commanded by Nar Garzhvog looking out for any signal from Blodhgarm’s men. A few hours passed without incident and Eragon was becoming restless. Three hundred men and a few dozen war machines against thirty thousand armed soldiers was not a prospect he liked. But then his brigade could reach the scene of battle in a quarter of an hour should their help be needed.

When Eragon was about to lapse into his waking dreams, having waited idly for the better part of the day, a kull came running from the direction of the battle field. Eragon heard bows being strung and arrows being notched behind him. He motioned for the archers to hold.

“Firesword!,” the kull was heard calling before long and he sounded terrified. It sent chills down Eragon’s spine. Not many things could terrify a fully grown kull. The kull was in such bad emotional state that he could only speak in the Urgal language of which Eragon had little to no knowledge. Garzhvog translated the message for him.

Eragon’s heart broke hearing the message sent by Blodhgarm. For a few moments, he could think of nothing. His mind came to a standstill. Literally. On one side, his heart wept and on the other, he was acutely aware of the effect the news would have on the Varden. Their resolve would crumble to dust. No! They would not know of this! They should not! He would make sure that it stays within the small group that he would lead to Uru’baen.

Having made his mind up, Eragon consulted with Garzhvog and sought to know if the kull lord approved of his plan because the five thousand strong brigade was after all under the kull’s direct command. The great kull took his time to make a decision and Eragon began to grow anxious. Every minute wasted would spell potential damage to the spirit of the Varden as a whole. And spiritless warriors were as good as defeated ones.

When the kull was thinking about the practicality of Eragon’s plan, cheers went up from the Varden behind them. Eragon did not have to look back to know what had happened. Saphira had made him aware of it. Indra and Arya had come with another three thousand men, apparently sent by Queen Islanzadi as a measure of further caution.

“Barzul!,” He cursed, “Nar! You must make your decision. Now!”

“We go, firesword! We go.” The kull exclaimed. “We go and save the honour of the Varden.”

Eragon nodded and went to meet Arya. Her arrival complicated things. She wouldn’t be as easy to convince as Garzhvog, Eragon knew. But he believed, he could at least make her promise not to go back and inform the others about the unfortunate news when he and Garzhvog would try and revert the damage.

But when he told her of the situation facing them and the decision he had made, she readily volunteered to accompany them, surprising him entirely. He expected her to make the logical choice and that was to inform the Varden's high command about the situation. But the only thing she said was this: “The force you take with you won’t be enough. Let us accompany you.”

Saphira and Indra rose to the air by the next ten minutes closely followed by a huge army of eight thousand Varden soldiers. But they were very much aware that they were going to be outnumbered four to one. Besides, Eragon did not know how the men would react when they see their beloved leader Nasuada leading the empire’s army against them.

Author's Note:

Writing a battle scene is so difficult. I just had to cut short at this point so that I won't take up unnecessarily long to give you this chapter. I will have to strive hard tomorrow if I am to make it past the ensuing battle. The reluctant monster that the title speaks of is the black hand. I thought of naming this, the rebirth of the black hand. But then, the title would have given too much up. Hence the moniker, reluctant monster.