The Primordial of the Hunt Meets Eragon

Battle worn

Previously:

"Lord Perseus, is there anyway we can do the training differently?" He asked desperately.

"I would have to ask that as well," Edric said from outside the ring. Selina and Beckendorf stood next to him, presumably to keep him from running if he ever got that idea. It didn't look like he'd gone yet.

"Thalia, I do not think this is what I meant when I said to train them," Percy said as he lifted one leg over the ropes.

"But Percy," she said childishly, slouching her shoulders. She may have stomped her foot but don't let her hear you repeat that.

"It's blood, not nuclear waste, calm down."

"It's coming out of your chest!"

"But not my heart."

"It's two inches away from your lungs!"

"Exactly, it didn't hit anything important so calm down."

"Just let Selina patch you up, Ethan," Beckendorf sighed tiredly. "She'll leave you alone after that."

Ethan huffed. "Fine." He looked away defiantly as Selina almost smugly started fixing him up.

I watched in silent amusement. The battles we've gone through the last few months have left me more and more anxious for not only the Varden's mission but the process in which we would rescue Blackjack and my mother. The closer we get, the more restless we've all gotten. Laughter is something we don't really get much of anymore. I feel as though I've taken several steps backwards.

The battle for Dras-Leona ended not 48 hours ago. Before that, we conquered Feinster, Belatona and Aroughs. All major cities leading up to Urû'baen, the Empire's capitol, from the south. The elves were coming from the north, having just conquered Gil'ead. All that stood between them and the capitol was Bullridge, a city on the river.

The fights have been getting worse and worse. At Aroughs, Roran's magic friend, Carn died in a burst of fire in a fight against another magician. Not before he broke through their defenses and killed them as well. A hero's death. It saved the battle for the city.

My eyes were drawn to the bearded warrior sitting in one corner of my tent. A hero in his own right. He was staring at the mug he'd been handed from Angela-who was also in my tent. Katrina, his wife, was leaning against his side, giving him as much support as she could. He and Eragon have taken the latest battles a little hard.

Dras-Leona had been a trap for Eragon and it was only with the help from Arya, Angela and the Varden as a whole that we ended up winning.

Eragon sat not too far from Roran, Arya right next to him. As much as she denied him, even I could tell the elf felt for him. He was in the same position as Roran. Times like these, I could see the resemblance. He seemed to be deep in thought, though not lost in the past like his cousin is.

Since the Dragon Rider's journey to Ellesméra this last time, Eragon had gotten a weight lifted from his shoulders. He'd found out that Morzan, the king's right hand man was not actually his father. Brom was. (A much better father figure in my opinion) At the battle of Feinster, when he rejoined us, he'd been as light as a feather, no heaviness. It's back now but that is understandable, considering the aftermath of the latest battle.

Arya is now known as Shadeslayer because of her defeat over a shade. A magician possessed by demons. She was waiting for Eragon to come out of his mind so they could start planning. Zöe was having a small conversation with her while she waited. The two of them have gotten along terrifyingly.