The Name of Names

~19: A Lesson~

Eragon felt like shaking his head in disbelief. She was an excellent swordsman, he could tell, but he also could tell that she knew this. From Osric, the Edoc'sil's, report, he had known this, but Eragon had attributed some of it to Oscric's mannerisms. But now, as Vanya stood there, arms crossed, watching him, he began to think it may be just her personality.

Nothing a bit of training can't fix... he added, hopefully.

"Would you like to get your sword before or after we spar?" he asked shortly.

Vanya raised an eyebrow, "Before." Eragon could tell she bit off the unspoken last word, 'obviously'.

"Very well, come with me." Eragon turned, walking to the great hall, entering. Off to the side, there was a set of staircase that led down into the next level, and Eragon followed it, hearing Vanya's footsteps behind him.

At the end of the staircase, it leveled out into a hall for a few feet, before there was a large, locked door. Touching his hand to the door, Eragon murmured a specific spell that went through the many enchantments encompassing it. It was a spell of his own making, and he kept it secret in the folds of his mind.

The door opened as he finished the spell, and Eragon pushed on it. With a loud creak, the door swung inwards, and he stepped forward into the room. It was a circular room, with doors placed every foot or so around the walls.

Eragon moved confidently, selecting the door he wanted—the one with the Rider's swords.

Speaking a quick spell that bypassed the enchantments over it, Eragon opened the door and stepped through.

It was a beautiful room, with hundreds of swords resting on elegant shelves, their gems glittering in the low light.

"Garjzla," He commanded, and a bright orb of light appeared, following his direction until it was at the top of the ceiling, casting white light over the whole room. The light only enhanced the beauty of the swords, but Eragon knew they were just as deadly as beautiful.

"If you wish, the white and grey swords are over here." he waved a hand at the right end of the room.

Vanya walked over to the swords, admiring their beauty. Swords of all lengths, widths, and sizes were all there, and Vanya looked for the one most resembling her former sword.

She found one, and selected it off the rack, holding it in her hand. Turning around, she took a test swing, and was shocked when it was blocked by Eragon.

"We may spar in here if you wish." he commented as Vanya took back the sword. "Its name is Wyrda," he informed her, waiting for her next move.

Vanya nodded in appreciation of the word, Fate, and swung another blow towards Eragon's head. It was blocked easily, and he pushed her sword aside.

"You have to think ahead," Eragon instructed, as they began to circle each other, "anticipate their moves ahead of your own."

"I know how to fight." Vanya said shortly, ducking under Eragon's horizontal swipe at her. In turn, she swung a vicious blow at his legs. Her sword met air, and immediately she rolled to the side, jumping to her feet and getting her sword in ready position.

Eragon parried her next swing, and the two exchanged a flurry of blows, each blocking and thrusting in turn. Vanya felt her energy slowly sapping as the fight continued, each seemingly an even match for each other from her point of view.

"How did you ever defeat Galbatorix this way?" she asked tauntingly as the match continued evenly. The words seemed to slip from her tongue, feeling flushed and excited with the energy of sparring.

"Oh, so you would like this to be like a real battle? One that you are fighting for your life?" Eragon asked, stepping back.

Vanya stepped back as well, twirling Wyrda in her hand. The sword felt like an extension to her arm, and was surprisingly light and strong. "What else should it be?"

Eragon smiled, tilting his head, "I thought this was just practice. My mistake."

Something about his words warned Vanya, and she became extra wary of him as they circled.

The duel after that point increased in intensity, each ducking, whirling, stabbing, blocking with speed and force. Finally, after Vanya had thought she was about to touch Eragon with her sword's end, she found no opponent there, and instead feeling the cold steel of Brisingr tapping her neck. "You need to be more careful than that." Eragon admonished, stepping back, and letting the duel commence once more.

Another match began, and at the end, Eragon once more was the victor.

Vanya's features had tightened in concentration, and she struck at him again. He blocked her again, and then stepped back a pace.

Then, a mental dagger drove into her defenses like an ice shard, shattering them. Her eyes widened as she saw Eragon step forward to strike at her again. She lifted her sword, realizing he was going for a battle with both mind and sword.

She started chanting the poem, trying to fight as well, but finding herself on the defense, while she struggled to defend her mind as well. Flashbacks kept recurring, so frequently and painful that she felt the attacker start to gain hold of her mind. Angry tears started falling onto the damp stone floor, and Vanya pushed back with her sword, trying to at least go on the offense there.

But, as was doomed to happen, Eragon gained hold of her mind, ceasing her struggle both mentally and physically.

Vanya was stock still, unable to do anything, and feeling helpless. It was a horrible feeling, and Vanya wanted to struggle, to fight. Anything to abate this feeling of being lost.

She wanted to scream, but he even denied her that, keeping her in place until he deemed she had understood his point. He released her, sheathing Brisingr to indicate the match was over. Vanya fell to the floor, catching herself with her hands, and feeling the wetness beneath her fingertips. She dashed the tears away angrily and stood, facing Eragon. With all of her anger, she swung Wyrda at him, but the sword was stopped, mid-air without any apparent word or anything.

Letting go of the sword, Vanya turned, leaving the room and exiting through the doors, up until the great hall. The other Riders were gathered there already, eating the noon-time meal, and Vanya noticed Aiden among them. He waved a hand at her, gesturing to the seat next to him.

Vanya said nothing, apologizing with her eyes, and left the building. As soon as she had gone through the doors, she sprinted towards the forest, not caring about the questioning stares from the dragons, who were gathered around Saphira.

She ran into the forest, not caring where she went, just running until she couldn't run any more, already exhausted from the sparring earlier.

When she felt a question coming from Kaldar, she severed the connection between them entirely. The feeling of isolation enveloped her entirely, and she closed her eyes.