Age of the Dragon 1: Return of the Riders

Chapter 21 Bonus

The sound of mourning filled the vast halls of Tronjheim.

They were mourning the dead, the lost, and the destruction. Murtagh's eyes swept over the faces of dwarves as they wailed and tore at their beards when the sound of some melancholic and haunting voice lifted over them all.

Tel'enara bellana bana'vhenadahl,

Sethen'a ir san'shiral, mala tel'halani

Ir sa'vir te'suledin var bana'vallaslin,

Vora'nadas san banal'him emma abel revas.

Ir tela'ena glandival, vir amin tel'hanin.

Ir tela las ir Fen halam, vir am'tela'elvahen.

His eyes found her standing in the middle of the shimmering remains of the gem - the light and colour flushed her a deep rosy colour, and the blood spattered across her contrasting the delicate image of her slim form.

He saw the tear tracks down her cheeks. She was mourning.

But she brushed those tears away and got to work - healing Saphira and tending to Arya. Eragon had been rushed out, on the verge of death.

He brought her some food and wine, which she took gratefully.

"You survived," she croaked, a half-smile on her face.

"So did you," he sat down next to her, looking out over the rows and rows of wounded.

"You did well for your first battle," she said, squeezing his shoulder.

"Tell me about your first battle," he said quietly.

She was silent, then took another swig from the flask he'd brought.

"The first time I ever fought, I was fifteen," she said. "I had snuck after a scouting party of Grey Wardens, who were trying to find a route to evacuate a city before the Horde arrived. Some Darkspawn had also been scouting, and the two groups clashed."

"You were caught then, I take it?"

"I had been discovered by the lead scout - a former Dalish who had joined the Wardens as the sole survivor after the Darkspawn annihilated his clan. He was furious, but we were at this point too far from the city for me to get back safely on my own," she said. "So he took the opportunity to teach me instead. While preparing to make camp, as it grew dark, we were ambushed by Shrieks. Ghilas'eth sensed them before the attack, but we were still scrambling..."

She closed her eyes, a frown forming on her face.

"They were awful and killed three of our party before we'd managed to draw our weapons," she said. "Then they just...dragged some of them, still alive, below ground. Somehow... we had missed a tunnel entrance, and they swarmed us."

He saw her hands start to shake.

"Ghilas'eth took a blade to the neck trying to stop a Hurlock from dragging me into the tunnel when my father arrived with his sister and my mother... Kamirth breathed fire into the tunnel and killed everything while Garahel pulled me onto his griffon," she opened her eyes, glistening with unspilled tears. "I locked myself in my chambers until it was time to flee."

"What about the people who'd been pulled in? Your mother just let Kamirth kill them?" Murtagh frowned.

"We didn't have the manpower or resources to mount a rescue, and if we'd left them, they would have suffered a far worse fate," she said. "The women would have been turned into cursed broodmares for their species, and the men would have been tainted and fed to the women. Their deaths were far kinder."

Murtagh nodded. "I'm sorry. It sounds like it was terrible."

"All battles are terrible," Fallyn said wryly, looking at him with eyes that held an ancient sorrow. "But true peace is an eternal struggle."

"It wouldn't be if war was abolished..."

She laughed. "And how would you do that? Choices make life worth living, worth experiencing. But they also create discord and sorrow and war."

"I suppose," he sighed.

"People often mistake chaos and order as two opposites," Fallyn said, getting up. "I suppose I have rested enough."

"You should really get some sleep," Murtagh said, eying her exhausted expression.

"I know my limits," she said. "But thank you for your concern."

He resumed assisting with the efforts - enemy bodies were thrown on piles outside the city, and the fallen men and dwarves were laid out to prepare for their funerary rites. The wounded were rushed to a different location, where healers - both magical and otherwise - worked tirelessly to save as many as they could.

After a day, Arya woke up and joined Fallyn in tending to the wounded. They were all taking a break when Angela appeared with an anxious expression and took Fallyn away with her.

"It must be truly bad if Angela and I cannot do anything for him," Arya muttered.

"Fallyn was once a Rider, right? She must have some knowledge that you don't," Murtagh suggested. "That or something from her homeland could possibly help..."

"Even if she had the means to return there, she would not be able to go there and back in time to save him," Arya said.

Murtagh watched the elf pace outside the door when he saw a bright light spill out from under the door. There was a strange energy to the air, the sensation of something just on the edge of his peripheral vision and whispers he strained to hear but never could.

The light shone for almost an hour before fading away.

There was murmuring on the other side of the door, and then the door opened. Fallyn looked more drained than he had ever seen her - pale as death, a trickle of some blue liquid on her lips. Her eyes were unfocused, and she had barely stepped out of the room before her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed into his arms.

"Fallyn!"

"What happened!" Arya cried.

"She's only tired," Angela assured, rushing over to check on her. "It took all her strength and then some to help him... she will be fine with some rest."

Murtagh looked down at her pale face.

"Hope you're right," he murmured, lifting her into his arms and following Angela to a spare bed where she could rest.