Riders United Against Darkness: A Tale of Courage and Unbreakable Bonds in Alagaesia

Chapter 4 Time Stops for No One
He nimbly refolded the boat and sent it on its way. Calling his elder students and his former Elven spellcasters, he made his way to the center of the decks.
They gathered around the center, the solemn look in his eyes enough to keep them silent until he talked.
"I have just received word that in the short period of our travels, our sea faring enemies have taken the entirety of Belatona. Our allies, our people have been pushed back to Ilirea, and are in a stalemate."
A burly dwarf Rider piped up. "The Beor Mountains are right next to them, we should sent word to them, they will fight!"
"Dorsun, the positioning of the Beor Mountains would give ample time and the perfect opportunity to strike, but our knowledge is that not one of the Alagaesian races are having success in defeating our enemy. They have taken the entirety of Surda in less than a week, their strength and speed are unlike anything we have ever heard of. Tronjheim will hold, of that we are assured of. Right now, we need to keep as many warriors alive as possible."
Dorsun had his heart in the right place, but his stubbornness could have given a rock a run for it.
"Dwarves will not fall in battle, no matter the enemy. King Orik will not fall in battle."
A hint of a smile remained on the Rider's lips as he remembered his foster brother, another wave of nostalgia came through. Nari had a wry smile on his face, no doubt reliving his first encounter with the dwarf.
"I am not willing to take that chance. We have a better chance at winning when all of the races fight together."
"Yes, ebirthil."
Whurhig, Dorsun's dragon had hatched for him quite late. Even though he did not look it, Dorsun was nearly as old as Eragon himself, born a few years after the elder Rider had left. Whurhig, on the other hand, was barely fifteen years old. Dorsun knew the most about the most recent of happenings in Alagaesia.
"Ebirthil," a sing song voice piped up from next to him, "what will be the plan to get there in time? It seems we will be thrown into battle as soon as we arrive."
"You are correct in your assessment, Amatria, we shall have to fight as soon as we arrive. Once we reach the edge of the Hadarac Desert, we will fly over to Ilirea, using height to mask our movements. They cannot know we are coming, else they will increase the speed of their attacks. We are fifty strong, full-fledged Riders, and we have enough power for a hundred armies combined with our friends who have chosen to accompany us. We cannot stop our flight, prepare the dragons for their upcoming journey. They are strong, but even this will be trying on their endurance."
Amatria was of another Rider of pure Elven blood, but she possessed neither the softness of Ishmael or the balance of Kyra. She was, through and through, one of the coldest, iciest women Eragon had ever met, if not the most, for that matter. That being said, she had impeccable morals, perhaps not so much as feeling it was the right thing to do, but knowing it was, even if she had no opinion on the matter. Her perspective gave her the unique ability to remove her emotions, if she had any, and assess the situation with a cold and calculating eye. Lacking her own emotions, Amatria was able to perfectly read another person, as she had none of her own feelings to distort her perspective.
Amatria remained the only one who passed the situational tests and field exams without failing one. She was proficient in the sword, and carried her Rider's sword with pride, but she preferred attacking from the behind, a stealthier approach, the approach of an assassin. And she was the perfect build as well. A small, powerful lithe body, cold black eyes and midnight black hair. It was so dark, it shone purple in the bright light. She preferred tight fitting Elven garments, ones that clung to her body, leaving no curve to the imagination, but noiseless when she moved. She was uniquely masked as well, whether on purpose or not, she left no scent behind.
Even now, she stood, her hands crossed over her chest and her eyes utterly blank. The knife she preferred lay strapped to her shoulder, its length nearly as long as her forearm itself. Her dragon, Ladrimme, was a perfect fit for her. She was small and fast, rapid turns, and dexterous movements. Not many could outfly her, but she was not the strongest. Ru'ali, or Hjarta, or even Arhel could have killed her within seconds, but they would have to catch her first, and to catch her was nearly impossible. To catch her without getting burned was completely impossible. Her name matched as well, Ladrimme, Night Flyer. They were the complete stealth package.
But even that was not their entire story, or her entire story. Amatria was just that, a beautiful dancer as her name indicated, and according to Ishmael, she was one of the best dancers in the world. One day she stopped dancing altogether and took the forests. She showed up in Ceris, miles away from her home in Kirtan, and Ladrimme hatched for her, an onyx dragon with diamond black eyes.
Eragon tore his eyes away from the beautiful elf maiden, he wished so desperately that she would find a reason to smile again.
"As Riders, we will be expected to change the tide of the war, and I have full belief that we will be able to. The reports hinted as beasts being the main reason of the trouble our people face, and I believe with the right technique, we can make this their weak point. Unfortunately, I am unsure of how we will be received in Alagaesia…"
"We are Riders, ebirthil! We will be respected!"
He sighed, "That may be the case, Thane. However, the people there are either too young to remember the pact or too old to forget the Fall. The Riders no longer have the reputation they once had. We will fight as Riders, however, until the time comes where we are trusted with soldiers and warriors to command. We will designate ourselves in groups of threes. Thane, Kyra, Marcus, Ishmael, Amatria, and Dorsun will definitely lead their own groups as per their exceptional work as leaders, and warriors. I shall decide upon the rest at a later time, but for the time being, allow me to explain how these will work. In each three membered team, there shall be a leader, this position has nothing to do with the function of each group. Fighting is just as important as protecting ourselves, and for that purpose, these groups have been decided. Your job, within your team, will be decided by your leader, but in essence, you all will fight, but someone will be designated to protect and heal, right on the battlefield, and another to spot for dangerous circumstances. Amatria, you will be in charge of a stealth team. These armies can move quickly, changing the battle in a instant, I will need someone in charge of targeting and taking out key players in the battle, say a general or a captain that seems to do quite a bit of damage to Alagaesia. On your team, you will have a spotter, someone who will watch and lookout; a distractor, one who will draw attention away from the third person; and lastly, the assassin, the one who will finish the job. Am I making myself clear?"
"Yes, ebirthil." The chorus was sound around the room.
"Good, I have no doubt of your ability to take care of yourselves in battle, that does not change that I care deeply for all of you and wish only the best. I cannot be everywhere at once, and if I could, I would protect all of you. The battle will be fierce, bloody, and life – changing. I never expected that I would leave and return to Alagaesia on

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THE END