Suprise

The sounds of the dying echoed throughout Ura'baen, casting a grim atmosphere over even the most jubilant of the Varden. Though the fighting had far since finished, the wounded still lay in their hundreds. Worse still, the inner ring of the Citadel had been evacuated and many whom could not be moved had been left to die. Their ear-piercing shrieks remaining adulterated despite the castle walls. The air, thick and heavy with the smell of blood, pressed down upon the dying masses with tangible effect. The hospital beds were masses of flesh and metal, already attracting waves of flies.

In most beds, there was little to distinguish from the dead and the dying. Indeed, one could only detect signs of life if they watched the rise and fall of a soldier's chest with careful concentration, Aria thought. As she observed the soldiers, Empire and Varden alike, she couldn't help but shudder at the wounds that had been inflicted upon some of them. One man, had had his back slashed open from nape to hip, and every so often he released an excruciating moan. Another, had his right leg crushed and was bleeding profusely from a cut to his side. Such was the disarray, that these two patients demanded no attention at all from the healers. No attempt had been made to help them or stem the pain, the elves and human healers and doctors only attempting save what they could.

She might have been able to help, had there been any spare tools available and versed in what was life threatening and what was not. Instead, she was confined to the sidelines, a mere spectator as it was, as if this was something to be watched. Her friend, Rose, lay on a bed to the side, being carefully tended to by the same Elven woman who had saved them and brought them here.

After the elf had indicated Aria of her friend's predicament, they had quickly left the small stone ward behind them, heading towards the outskirts of the city. They had passed through the narrow cobblestone streets, which were quickly filling with people, many of whom had borne looks of bewilderment and confusion. They had clearly not expected the Varden to breach the citadel and to secure the infinitesimal chance of victory.

They weaved their way through the streets, the elven woman having a deft knowledge of every nook and cranny. She had had a hard time keeping up with her saviour, despite the latter holding a heavily pregnant woman over her shoulder and a baby in the other hand. Every now and then, a hulking Kull passed by them, each carving a wide berth through the streets. Even the elves, with their supernatural strength and regal – imposing- figure, looked diminutive beside them.

Eventually they passed through an unmanned checkpoint, and in the process, reached the outer citadel. Here, the horror of war was more evident. Many of the streets had streaks of blood and gore, blunted arrowheads and sometimes the occasional body. Many families, wisely, had holed up in their houses, seeking relief from the dreadful reality that waited patiently for them outside.

Varden soldiers lay slumped against the street walls, many injured. Empire soldiers had been stripped of their weapons, and many could be seen gathering in the distance. Eventually they had come to the makeshift field hospital.

Rose looked no different from before, though a small frown creased her face. Clearly the elves had somehow numbed the pain. The elven woman tending to her was now showing signs of strain, her forehead defined by long lines of concentration. Aria wondered, fleetingly, if she should seek out a human healer, knowing full-well the rumours that accompanied childbirths. For as vague as this idea was, she immediately dismissed it. The elven woman had sought to help, and despite the consistent rumours to the contrary, she had shown compassion and empathy far beyond most humans. In all likelihood, Aria thought sadly, her friend was not going to survive.

"Yaela" said a voice off to the side, distracting Aria from her morbid contemplations and causing the elf woman to look up.

"Eragon" Yaela said, inclining her head, in which he replied in kind with.

Aria stared to get a better look at Eragon. She could see why men feared him. He looked positively ferocious. While the elves wore armour of intricate design, he wore armour of grey, bare steel. He was still wearing greaves and bracers, although he had ditched his helmet and gauntlets in favour of open skin. He looked breathtakingly stunning despite the large cut over his right eye and a blood soaked patch near his sternum. His sword hung by his side, attached to his belt, swinging dangerously back and forward.

"Is everything all right" asked Eragon, tilting his head to the side slightly.

"Yes" she replied evenly, before looking down guiltily, "well at least for me."

"Aah" he said, which in her view seemed like a totally inadequate response. "I thought you had gone out of the city with Blodhgarm" said Eragon, he looked like he was going to say more but he stopped short, presumably not wanting to be overheard. Yaela, however, seemed to catch on.

"I was going to" she replied, "but Blodhgarm directed me to help here, where I am more needed."

Eragon had, however, stopped listening, seemingly staring vacantly at a point in the distance. It was only for the slightest second though; he seemed to snap himself out of it. Perhaps he was a bit dazed and confused, she thought wryly. Yaela looked on knowingly.

"What is this time" she asked, a smile playing upon her beautiful red lips.

"I have something to attend to. Would you be so kind as to look after my armor" he asked.

Aria was shocked; surely he wouldn't order someone as pretty as Yaela around. But to her surprise, Yaela simply nodded, betraying no trace of reluctance or contempt. Then, right before her eyes, he started taking off his armour. Stripping down to a leather outfit, he placed all his armour in a pack Yaela had procured, before pulling the drawstrings tight.

"Thank you" he murmured. "In payment" he queried, gesturing towards a beautifully adornished Sapphire ring, with a strange symbol carved into its face.

Yaela looked confused for a split-second, but then promptly refused.

"Well, I'll be off now" he said, before murmuring something in a foreign language. Yaela nodded, before turning back to Rose whom she had momentarily forgotten and started murmuring in a soft tongue. She had been standing there the whole time, and he had not even noticed her once, she thought dismally, stinging remarks sitting on the tip of her tongue as Eragon turned to leave.

- Time Change –

Aria desperately clasped her friend's hand, which looked grey and sickened. Yaela had informed her that her friend had only a few more hours to live. Some sort of complication involving internal bleeding had prevented her from being saved, and her death could not be postponed by more than a few hours. It was heartbreaking to see her friend lying there, unable to move. Only a few hours ago, she had been fully conscious and talkative. Now, she could hardly manage to keep her eyes open.

Cold tears streaked down her face, the reality of her friend's fate starting to sink in. She slowly rocked back and forth in her chair, reassuringly squeezing Rose's hand. She was despondent with the brutal reality of death, how were you supposed to comfort someone who knew their death was imminent. When even they were not prepared for awaited them, much less you yourself.

Steadily, with each passing hour, Rose withered away. Her clasped hand going limp and cold. Her face draining of her colour while her breathing became steadily more laboured and shallow. Morning turned to afternoon, afternoon to early evening, before Rose uttered something so soft that at first Aria had thought it was the murmur of the wind, but one look at her friend's expression told her differently. She leaned down, careful not to apply any pressure to Rose. She put her ear to Rose's ear, struggling to make out the soft words whispered by Rose's blue lips.

"w-w-what g-g-gend…"

"What gender" she whispered back, almost afraid to raise her voice above Rose's.

Rose could only manage a faint nod.

"A girl" she answered.

"Can I-I h-hold h-her" she said longingly as she feebly gestured with her hands, in a pathetic gesture that made Aria want to start crying again. It was distressing to see her friend like so, she despaired.

She got up and walked over to Rose's baby.

"Here" she said, carefully placing the baby into Rose's waiting arms. But Rose had already closed her eyes, seemingly unaware of her offspring.

"Freja

A-a-r…

t-t-take c-c-c-… of h-h-her .." she said, fading to silence. Her arms falling limp around the baby. Unbidden, tears sprang forth, her desperate wail mingling with the sounds of sorrow that permeated the air. A wave of sadness threatened to overwhelm as she relieved Rose of her offspring, taking the baby from her mother's cold hands.

-PoV change-

Svein gestured for his men to approach cautiously as they neared the flaming wagon. The fire flared up briefly as they inched their way closer, sending sparks in all directions, eventually alighting on the floor where they came to a rest. In a tunnel otherwise devoid of motion, it looked eerily disturbing. The wagon was tipped on its side, the inhabitants burnt beyond recognition by the fire, killed beforehand by the look of it, he thought as the details resolved themselves.

"Sir," one of his guards asked timidly, "where are the pack animals?"

He was right, when Svein took a closer look, their harnesses had been unshackled and there were no signs of their bodies. It was unnerving, to say the least.

"And sir," the same guard speaking again, albeit with a more confident voice, "why would the fire still be burning in the tunnel, it must have been hours since this has happened."

"He's right" said another, "I've seen fires in tunnels before; it certainly isn't pretty but the lack of significant circulation makes the flames die out pretty quickly."

"So you're saying that whoever could have done this could still be around" he said, biting his lip.

"Well, I wouldn't say that, given what I think were draft horses are gone. But, they mustn't have left too long ago."

"Should we search for evidence, Sir?" asked a dwarf off to his right.

He twirled his beard as he thought it about. The more they disturbed the site, the less likely evidence that was found could be of any use. On the other hand, waiting for the magicians to catch up with them would most likely end with any physically recoverable evidence being destroyed. It was, in his opinion, a lose-lose situation, but every second spent thinking was chewing up his time anyway, regardless of his decision. So he made his choice.

He gestured at the two guards closest to him, one with a long reddish-brown beard and a bald head, the other with matted brown hair and one of the largest moustaches he had ever seen.

"I want you two" he said, pointing at each one of them in turn, "to take three other guards and hurry back to the main group. Tell the magicians to hurry up. The rest of you" he said, turning his attention to the rest of the soldiers, "shall divide up into two groups, one who shall secure the surrounding tunnel, and the other who will search for physical evidence. Carefully I might add" he said, glaring at them, knowing full well that soldiers could be very unco-ordinated.

After quarter of an hour of futile searching, the magicians finally arrived, along with the main group. Svein greeted them eagerly as he ushered them towards the now-extinguished wagon, not wanting to waste any more time. But for all their expertise, they could detect no remnants of magical activity, nor any physical evidence. Svein called it quits as the site of the conflict wielded no unexpected results and the hour had passed with no major breakthroughs in regards to the identity of the attackers. They did, however, manage to recover the burnt and grisly remains of the dwarves. Not that it would provide much solace to the victims' families, he thought. Dead bodies never do anyone any good.

With enough details covered to adequately compile a report, he ordered the company to move on, leaving a flameless lantern to mark the spot of the wagon, lest it be lost amidst the darkness of the tunnel. With the heaving of packs and groaning of dwarves, they started to move out, creating enough din to wake a knurlan several kilometres away. Just as they were doing so, the dwarf with the matted brown hair walked close to the wagon and accidentally kicked a stone.

He cursed loudly, why dwarves had to be so inconsiderate sometimes was beyond him, he thought, grounding his teeth in a display of evident frustration. Then it hit him, with the subtlety of a hammer. Dwarven tunnels were mined to perfection; loose stones would be an oddity, not a regular occurrence. Which meant one thing, a cave-in was imminent, which was unlikely for multiple reasons, or, secondly, the stone had been dropped.

Curious, he trailed the apparent trajectory of the stone and eventually came to its resting spot, a few inches away from the tunnel wall. It was a small purple amethyst, polished to perfection and sparkling in the light. He picked it up and pocketed it, knowing how rare and valuable they were.

"Hey" he called out to Althari, "Did the last group to come through here carry gems of any sort?"

"No, as far as I know of. Why?"

"I found a precious stone."

-Time Change—

After three and half days of solid travelling they had arrived at Galfni. It was a pleasant dwarven city, even though its inhabitants seemed largely quirky. Home to the _ clan, it made its fortune in _. The city had been built around a valley, and thus while its remote location prevented sustained incursions by Forsworn, the occasional attacks had warranted the abandonment of the top portion of the city, which was built into the opposing sides of the valley and thus exposed to dragons.

Through the centre of the city ran an underground spring, with little canals of water feeding into it from every side street. Thankfully, the city's forbears had embarked on a massive sewage program which had allowed the water flowing throughout the city to remain crystal clean. In fact, it was where most of the dwarves got their drinking and washing water from.

The entire lower portion of the city was hollowed out, except for some thick towering spires dispersed at regular intervals that supported the valley floor roughly 90 foot above. But it was hollowed in such a way that the buildings were seamlessly integrated into city floor, flowing smoothly into each other in a way that you couldn't actually decide where the buildings ended and where they started. The amount of planning that had gone into the design had been significant and the results had paid off, he thought.

The valley, in which they looked upon now, had its own separate stream running through the middle with small patches of cultivated fields on either side. Dwarves could be seen out in the field, preparing for the coming of spring. The sun was high in the sky and bathed every corner of the valley in radiant sunlight. Under the sheltered eaves and in the relative darkness, the brightness of the scenery outside forced him to look away every so often.

"Beautiful, is it not" said Althari, enraptured by the view beholden to them.

"Aye, that it is" he said.

"Although it would not be so nice when everything is burning and dragon-fire roasting everything in sight" he added as an afterthought, shuddering as images of Shruikan taking delight in the death of the Varden sprang to his mind.

Althari remained silent, Svein was not even sure that he had heard him. With no other things to talk of, they just stood there and admired the view. After a few moments, he noticed Althari stir beside him.

"Why do you think there was an attack in the tunnels?"

"I am not sure. We can only wait till they inspect the site and consult their records."

Althari, having seen little of the horror of war, seemed perturbed by his response, or rather, lack of one.

"We did our duty promptly and with appropriate haste."

He added, after seeing Althari's unconvinced expression, "There was nothing we could have done."

Althari remained silent, staring into the distance.

"Look" he whispered, a little impatience seeping into his voice as he spoke, "until we find out what they were carrying, then there is no point in considering what the attacker's motives were. They could be Urgals for all we know, stranger things have happened."

"They did nothing to deserve their fate. The attackers could have knocked them out with magic and still gotten away in time."

"I think it would be better if we had this conversation another time, but if you insist on moping around then I will offer you a few guiding points. First, death, and life to a lesser extent, is arbitrary. Second, nobody determines whether the good people live and the bad people die. All it takes for evil to triumph is for good knurlan to do nothing. If you pretend that you're actions determine when you die, you're deluded, simple as that. The only thing that they determine is how you will be remembered as."

"It seems so unfair."

"Life isn't fair" he snapped. As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted uttering them. Althari turned to leave, but before he could, he grabbed Althari by his shoulder.

"Look, I meant what I said, but it came out too harshly. Look at the elves, they are the most arrogant of all the races yet despite this, and perhaps because, they are immortal. But their arrogance has been their undoing, it has prevented them properly integrating with the other races, and they have arguable suffered the most at the hands of Galbatorix. Or what about Arya, the elf queen, who is now also a dragon rider. There are plenty of things in life that are unfair, judge the circumstances however you like, but only a select few events to touch you."

"I suppose that is true" he answered bitterly, "but it is hard to imagine where you can feel nothing for those who died."

"It is an easier state to reach than most think, and one which is very much less desirable. Eventually, you become jaded to death unless it involves a loved one. The first time I killed, an act which I am not proud of to this day, I was distraught. But after my first few battles, I developed a resistance to what some would call 'Survivor's guilt.' Everyone has their own way of discovering the rules that they live by, mine were by discovery. Now, I feel strongly about little, with the exemption being my family."

With that, Althari turned to leave, and this time he made no move to stop him.

-Time Change—

"Are you sure of what you saw" asked the headguard, to whom Svein had not had the foresight to ask of his name.

"How many times do I need to repeat my observations? Svein asked angrily. "I have told you all of what my men and I know. Yet you still have the tenacity to question my senses without reservation. Which- for your information - hitherto, have been perfectly accurate."

The long brown headed dwarf admired the amethyst which Svein had reluctantly handed over. It was almost worth his month's pay.

"I question you with such temerity not because I am as forthright in my demands as I appear to be or because I do not trust you, but as a result of the grave situation that we might find ourselves in if your statements are found to be true. It is in everyone's best interest if you are wrong, including yourself" he added wryly.

"And what might that situation be" he said, fuming at the fact that crucial facts were being withheld while he was being bombarded with questions.

"Your standing requires that I divulge no important details, but I can let you in on the cargo that they were transporting. It was a cache of weapons and gems."

"Weapons … you mean magical ones" he said slowly, with a growing horror.

"Exactly" said the commander grimly, "it was the last shipment as well, it can't have been a coincidence that the attackers chose that cart to attack."

"What was it doing without guards" he demanded. "I thought all weapons had to be accompanied by guards."

"It was. They must have turned or been captured, the former being the more likely one."

"So if you had known it was likely, why didn't you send your most trusted men with it?"

"Most people have perfect hindsight, and I am no exception. In any case, most of my men are sealing off any tunnel entrances. That Raz'ac scare had us up in arms for a few weeks; it's only recently started to die down. The lack of proximity didn't make anyone else less scared, and so they commissioned my best men to do grunt work. Bureaucracy" he sighed.

"Why would they have turned on their own clan?"

"Well the problem here is that not everyone is of the same clan, there are numerous clans, some more sympathetic to radical causes than others."

"You're talking about Vermund and his retinue of scum-of-the-earth."

"Indeed" he remarked, finally putting down the amethyst on a nearby stone bench. "Our leaders here play fiddle to a number of different ideas, and as such, quick decisive action is a rarity. Many knurlan are even still sympathetic to Vermund and his clan."

"You think that they turned traitor because they were they were parlay to Az Sweldn rak Anhuin."

"It's an option that I want to follow up on" he said, looking over his shoulder at the door behind him. Svein followed his gaze. Moments later, the door burst open, a surge of important-looking knurlan hurrying through.

"Aah, there they are" said the dwarf at the head of the motley processional, "Altair, we need to discuss the matter at hand. Svein, you may go, thank you for your trouble" he said, bowing graciously before gesturing at the door.

-PoV change—

"Do you think he will mind" asked Yaela.

"No" replied Invidia.

"Are you sure" she queried doubtfully.

"Certainly, I'll take the blame if anything goes wrong."

"I certainly hope so."

-PoV change –

Eragon smiled; however nice it was to fly with Saphira it could never replicate the feeling of having two feet on solid ground. Saphira would disagree, but then again, she was a creature of the air not of the ground. He loved flying with Saphira, but all the same he was glad to be in control of his own movements.

They had spent the last three days scouting out the mountains with Blodhgarm, who had offered them his counsel when they had requested it. They had garnered a superior perspective on the surrounding mountain range, and Blodhgarm had stilled that memory in time with a skilfully crafted fairth. Saphira's flight ceiling extended comfortably to all but the highest peaks, and at that moment of sudden realisation- where they drew level with the highest peak - it also dawned on him that they could not have chosen a better spot to raise Dragons.

The valley, far below him, was surrounded by mountainous peaks, towering above the meandering ribbon of silver mixed in amongst the long thin flood plains. Wisps of cloud wrapped themselves around the lower parts of the mountain, concealing vast portions of forests from prying eyes. The sun, high above them, threw into sharp relief the surrounding mountainsides. Impregnable passes, filled to the brim with snow, blocked the way into the valley. Further upstream, the river gradually lessened in size until it resembled no more than a stream. Going downstream with each passing tributary, the river seemed to double in size.

The three waterfalls which had seemed so imposing at ground level, now occupied relatively little of one's attention. If he squinted, he could just make out the tiny little figures of the elves near the waterfall that was furthest downstream. Out in the distance, downstream, obscured by the haze of the air, lay the desert plateau. In every other direction, as far as an elven or dragon eye could see, lay mountains of breathtaking beauty. Each one capped with snow.

During that time, he felt that he had come to terms better with Blodhgarm. They were amicable at the least, and at most – according to Eragon - bordering on friends. Blodhgarm, having been raised with different customs and rules might see their relationship differently, but Eragon had been able to learn a bit more of his past and they had talked of the decisions they had faced when leaving.

Given that Blodhgarm was second-in-command, it was highly important that they became on good terms with each other. Dysfunctional leadership takes a lot greater toll than even the most desperate of circumstances, he thought, as his mind flashed back to the aftermath of the battle of Ura'baen.

Eragon sat alone in his removed refuge, a far cry from the going-ons of the cobblestone streets of Ura'baen below. He had been so immersed in his reflection that he had not noticed Arya, Orrin and their ilk leave. The natural light dimming until he was an island of light in the sky. Darkness steadily pressing down upon the orange-yellow light of the lamp as he pondered the day's events.

As light of the lamp withered and died, he mused on the passing of Galbatorix. It was strange that after so closely having dealt with one leadership problem, they were presented with another. Men like Orrin had ambition that could hardly be checked, even if their leadership credentials were not justifiable in the face of the post they were seeking. The current circumstances had beared striking similarities to the one that had given rise to Galbatorix, but thankfully they had handled the recent dilemma with a little more tact.

Alone he sat in the dark, ruminating on the passing of an age.

Eragon walked into their cave. As he passed under the ceiling he felt the air change slightly, and he knew the wards surrounding the entrance had just taken effect. None of the elves were about; they were all working with Saphira to cut out stone from the rock face. Before he joined them, he had decided to consult with the Eldunari. He walked to the back of the false back of the cave, which itself had been nicely furnished with items brought up from the Talita. To the side, the rider's swords, in their hundreds, had been stacked in a pile. A pile of multi-coloured death.

He placed his hand on the back wall and whispered a few words in the ancient language. The rock face slid away, revealing nothing but blackness. He was just about to step inside, when 6 gleaming eyes peered out from the darkness. It only took a split second for them to react, but the dragon hatchlings – for what else could they be – bounded out of the darkness and bowled him over. Entirely unexpecting this, he had not thought to steady himself and he fell down quite heavily on the stone surface, narrowly avoiding a head injury.

He made a move to get up, his body protesting in vain, but it was all for nought as the three dragons pounced on top of him, trying to roar.

Just then, Yaela and Invidia stepped out of the shadows, laughing. He put two and two together, and suddenly it clicked.

"You didn't" he said, in disbelief, making a vague strangling motion towards them. To which the two elven woman just laughed harder and the dragons dug their claws in tighter. He grimaced in pain, but he managed to see the funny side, or what was left of it.

"I think I am going to make a fairth" Yaela announced, to which Invidia giggled, he groaned and the dragons started rubbing their head up against his.

A/N

Sorry for the late update. I would say that I can only manage an update every three weeks.

I have decided to completely redo the first 30 chapters. I feel that it needs to be in chronological order and that I need to skip 6 months into the future (in the book, not in reality).

However, I have a few loose ends that I need to tie up before the jump.

Most of the new characters introduced will be future dragon riders, if readers are wondering who they are and their importance. Also, I will explain the dragons behaviour next time I write Eragon's PoV.

Reviews appreciated

WBY