Chapter 17

Five hours later, Eragon is seated in a cross legged position on the floor of the Dragonold, his body covered in sweat and his sword lying next to him in its scabbard. Both mentally and physically spent, Eragon lays on his back on the cold floor. As he lays there, he contemplates what his next plans are. 

"I've got like… Four months or so before the urgal attack happens. If it even happens at all. Ajihad has yet to deal with the twins as far as I know. Then you have Arya leaving Tronjheim after our duel. What can I do to get stronger? I could change my body with magic but I'm not confident enough to not mess something up, and it would be a pain to fix if something goes wrong. If I can make gears and the like, I could create some kind of heavy vehicle like a tank or something but that would draw a lot of attention and most likely kick start a technical revolution. I really want to avoid such a scenario if I can help it." 

Eragon rubs his temples for a few moments. "I got it! I will finish making all the words for the elements in the ancient language and then go from there." 

With a simple spell, Eragon removes the sweat and grime from his body then puts back on his shirt before grabbing his parchment and ink. He works on translating the elements into the ancient language for a few hours before taking a short nap. 

… 

A few hours later, Eragon awakens to Saphira growling at a dark-skinned woman that is standing in the doorway that leads to the spiral staircase. Recognizing her by the resemblance to her father, Eragon taps Saphira's thigh to tell her to calm down. 

"Sorry about her, she is very overprotective. You must be Nasuada, daughter of Ajihad am I right?"

Surprised that he knows who she is, Nasuada's eyes widen slightly before her shocked expression changes to a playful smile. "Yes, I am Nasuada. I am surprised that you know who I am. Did my father tell you about me?" 

Eragon shakes his head from left to right. "Your body features and the way you carry yourself is very similar to his. How I know your name will be my secret. I do have one question though. Why did you come all the way up here?" 

Nasuada rolls her eyes. "I've wanted to see the new dragon rider since your arrival but you have kept yourself so busy these past few weeks that I was never able to find you at an opportune moment."

Eragon scratches the back of his head sheepishly. "Sorry about that. I was working on crafting my own sword and armor, along with all the other training I have been doing, keeping me busy this entire time."

Nasuada raises an eyebrow. "You make your own gear? Why didn't you just use the dwarven weapons and armor? Hrothgar would have had all of it custom made specially for you."

Eragon walks over to where his sword and armor is stored and grabs the blade and scabbard. "Even before Saphira hatched for me I had been making my own equipment. Now that I am a rider, I have been diligently working on perfecting my craft." 

Eragon pulls the blade free of its scabbard, holding the handle with his left hand with the blade flat against his right palm. "This is the best I can make currently. The culmination of my knowledge and strength."

Nasuada walks a little bit closer and examines the blade. Having been around weapons her whole life, she can tell that the sword in his hand is a masterpiece of the highest quality. If he had said that the sword was made by a master blacksmith she would believe him. 

Eragon sheathes the blade and sets it next to his armor. "It was wonderful meeting you Nasuada, but I must get going. I have a duel with Arya soon and I must prepare for it. Give me a moment to get my armor on then we can walk down together." 

Nasuada stares into space for a few moments before shaking her head and putting a smile on her face. "Of course Master Eragon, I shall wait a few steps down to give you some privacy." 

Once Nasuada walks away, Eragon puts on his armor and sword while talking to Saphira. 

"Is that candidate number two?" Saphira says with a smirk.

Eragon shakes his head and sighs. "What is with you and finding me a mate? I have far better things to do than look for a wife… At least wait until Galbatorix is dead." Eragon pauses for a moment. "It might have to wait until we find out what the deal is with that army invading the coast in my vision. Brom knows about my visions, maybe he will have an answer. Might as well tell him about the urgal attack as well." 

"Seeking counsel from your father is smart, just remember that you can't rely on him forever. You need to make your own decisions." 

Eragon readjusts his left gauntlet as it felt a little loose. "You're right… I avoided Brom's death but I cannot postpone the inevitable." 

Eragon, now fully decked out in his armor, hangs his head for a moment at the thought of Brom's death. Brom is the father he has always wanted, in this life and the one before, and it pains him greatly that they might not have much more time to spend together. His melancholy stare swiftly changes into one of determination. 

"I better get going… Can't leave the ladies waiting now can I?" 

Saphira snorts, a small puff of smoke escaping her nostrils. "Get going before I sit on you." 

Eragon holds his hands up in mock fright with a large smile on his face before leaving the room and walking down the spiral staircase with Nasuada. The two make some small talk while they descend to the great hall. 

…

Not wasting any time, Eragon arrives at the training field with Nasuada in tow. The training field is a large outdoor space with a perpetual fog that blankets the area. Waiting for him in the center of the field is Arya wearing a set of leather armor with a sleek, thin blade on her hip. He strides towards her till he is about five paces away. Arya looks him up and down, examining his armor as this is the first time she has seen it. She is pleasantly surprised at the quality of the armor, thinking that in the future, his crafting skills could reach Rhunon's level, the sword smith of the elves and the creator of the rider's blades.

Breaking out of her musings, Arya draws her blade and enters a stance, the blade pointing towards Eragon. Eragon responds in kind, drawing his sword and holding it in front of himself with the blade pointed upwards. The tension in the air is palpable, causing the nearby dwarves and humans who were training to stop and form a circle around the combatants. The two stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, waiting for someone to make the first move. 

Eragon steadies his breathing before rushing forward and executing a quick side slash. Arya parries the blow with ease and counter attacks, aiming for his right wrist. Eragon just barely manages to dodge the hit before blocking her next few attacks with his sword. Eragon finds himself on the defensive as Arya continues to rain blow after blow upon him, her blade a blur in his vision that he is only able to block because of the instincts that he has honed over the past year. Each collision of their blades creates a shower of sparks that flash in the dim light. 

Realizing that she is just too fast compared to himself, Eragon switches his stance, staying lower to the ground and throwing more of his weight into every swing. His defense mimics the armadillo, his armor taking the brunt of her attacks so that he can swing with his full force. Arya finds it increasingly more difficult to parry his blows as the force behind them increases beyond what she was expecting. The battle momentum switches to Eragon's favor as she finds herself having to dodge out of the way of his strikes because blocking them is making her arm go numb slightly. 

The match escalates in intensity as Eragon continues to tank Arya's fast attacks with his armor whilst dealing heavy blows when he can. The armor is protecting him from any fatal wounds but the skin underneath has begun to bruise and swell.

After having to block a particularly powerful blow, Arya leaps back to try to catch her breath. Eragon doesn't let up as he dashes forward and stomps the ground in front of her and swings his sword upwards, jumping as he swings to add extra momentum. Arya was just able to get her blade up in time to block the swing but the power behind the attack is too much for her to handle and her blade leaves her grasp and flies into the air. She stumbles and falls backwards onto the hard earth. 

Eragon would have marveled at his victory if he didn't notice Arya's sword falling towards the defenseless elf. Without thinking, Eragon dives forward and covers her body, the sword hitting him in the back. Luckily the blade was sideways so it just smacked into his armor, giving him a large bruise at best. 

Eragon winces in pain before looking down at Arya with worry in his eyes. Arya lays there, staring into his eyes and panting from over exertion as their match had taken over twenty minutes to complete, the sweat on their bodies glistening in the morning light. Eragon, realizing the position they are in, quickly stands up and brushes some dirt off his cuirass. He then leans over and offers his hand to her. 

"That was a good match, Arya. Now we are even." 

Arya stares at his hand for a few moments before grabbing it and hoisting herself up with his help. The crowd that had gathered began to cheer loudly, the duel having attracted over a hundred people. Eragon waves to the crowd before looking back at Arya who is just standing there in a daze. Seeing her like this, Eragon's brow furrows slightly before realizing something and turning to the crowd. 

"This duel is over proud warriors. Please, return to your training. The bastard king will feel the might of our steel in due time." 

The crowd cheers from his speech before dispersing. Eragon walks up to Arya and looks into her eyes.

"Are you alright Arya? Did I cause any lasting damage?" 

Arya shakes her head before looking up at him then quickly lowering her gaze. "I am fine, Eragon. You have improved vastly in these last few months. I no longer have any doubt that you will be the linchpin in ending Galbatorix's reign of tyranny. Now please excuse me as I must rest." 

Arya swiftly walks away while Eragon tilts his head to the side. "There is no way…" he thinks to himself.