Myoka had been badly cut on her left arm and there was a dent on the right knee of her armor. Her arm bled quite a bit and her knee throbbed with every step. She battled on, though, heedless of her injuries. An Urgal aimed a swift uppercut at Myoka’s head but she quickly parried it, deflecting the blade with excellent swordsmanship. Then she swiftly killed the Urgal.

MYOKA! cried out a voice in her head. She staggered slightly from the sheer force of the cry. It sounded like Eragon.

…Yes…? she replied while executing another Urgal. Her sword was almost dripping with blood from all the Urgals she had slain.

I need your help…badly… came the trembling reply from Eragon. Myoka sighed and flicked up her blade in time to block another attack to her head.

Just tell me where and I’ll be on my way. she responded calmly.

Tronjheim… came the weak reply before the connection broke. Knowing the situation was urgent Myoka sprinted off, cutting through Urgals as she went. When she arrived at Vol Turin she was very dismayed. Thinking it was mad to try and use any other method than run she finally decided that she was, indeed, insane. ((DO NOT ATTEMPT THIS AT HOME)) She balanced herself carefully at the top of Vol Turin and jumped. The wind was rushing past her ears as she fell downward…

When she landed with the grace of a cat, without falling flat on her face, she stood up shakily. One glance around the room told her everything she needed to know. Eragon was standing in a circle of Urgals, which she had now joined him in, and Durza, the Shade from Gil’ead, stood in front of him. Both looked very astounded at her sudden appearance but quickly masked it.

“Well, well, well…I see someone has decided to, ah, drop in…” remarked Durza coldly. Myoka nearly gagged at the horrible pun.

“…yes…” she finally mustered to reply. Eragon was still gaping at her like this was some sort of crazy dream where people could attempt the impossible.

“It isn’t going to change the outcome of this battle, unfortunately. You’re now both going to die,” the Shade told them nonchalantly. Myoka tightened her grip slightly on her sword.

“Right…” she mumbled. Without warning she felt the Shades mind probing at hers like an icy dagger. Growling she retaliated by thrusting down hard barriers around her mind, shattering the attack. With her mind guarded and her strength renewed Myoka attacked again with Eragon at her side. Together they were swift and precise in their movements. The Shade was barely able to comprehend who was attacking, where, and when. Soon enough Eragon was able to clip him on the hip with his shield. This earned a snarl of rage from Durza. There wasn’t much time to celebrate since they were, of course, trying to kill him.

In the meantime Eragon was trying to get into Durza’s mind. When he was able to harm Durza he gained entrance to his mind…

Myoka saw Eragon fall to his knees from the overwhelming sensation of the Shades memories. Quickly she stepped in to protect him from any harm. Swords clashed brilliantly and sparks flew. It was a fierce battle that Myoka knew she was losing. The main purpose was to gain Eragon time to recover. Regrettably her short battle ended badly.

Durza slammed his sword down onto her left shoulder with so much force she staggered slightly. White hot pain was injected into her veins and her vision swam. She fell to her knees as pain took over her body. Struggling she was just in time to see Durza lay his sword down across Eragon’s back. She heard him scream…the star sapphire shattering…Saphira and Arya racing down Vol Turin…and then…

“BRISINGR!” Eragon cried out. Zar’roc, his sword, blazed with bloody blue light. He plunged it right through Durza’s heart. The Shade screamed, withered, and vanished. Durza was dead. Smiling slightly, with blood still pouring out of her fatal wound, Myoka lost consciousness as did Eragon.

* * *

Myoka was awoken by the sound of Angela’s voice. Her eyes fluttered open and she registered her left shoulder burning when she shifted. Glancing over she saw Eragon on a long bed, swathed in soft blankets. Angela was sitting next to him in a chair, attempting to wake him. At last Eragon awoke. Quietly Angela asked him a few questions and then issued a few instructions here and there. Then Murtagh, Arya, and Saphira’s head came into the room. When they were in Angela went to Myoka.

“How do you feel?” she asked her softly while pulling up a chair. Myoka slowly registered the words into her mind.

“Pretty bad…” she admitted slowly. Angela looked at her sorrowfully. There were unspoken words in her eyes and great weight of guilt seemed to weight on her shoulders. Finally she spoke.

“…Myoka…know that…you can never…will never…” she choked out softly. Myoka looked at her with steady hazel eyes.

“Just tell me,” she instructed. Angela took Myoka’s right hand and closed her eyes.

“Your left arm…will never be fully of use to you. You damaged some extremely important movement muscles to your arm. You’ll be in a lot of pain for the next few weeks and…I’m so sorry…” whispered Angela with grief staining her words. Myoka felt the weight of her words crushing down on her.

“It’s…quite alright,” the girl replied with a shaky smile. Angela nodded and then turned back to Eragon.

“YOU have someone to thank,” she snapped at him suddenly. Eragon looked confused and startled for a moment then realized who he was talking about.

“She wasn’t hurt too badly…were you, Saphira?” he asked his dragon worriedly. Angela looked almost completely red in the face.

“I DIDN’T MEAN SAPHIRA!!” she yelled at him. Eragon, Arya, Murtagh, and Myoka looked very alarmed at her sudden outburst.

“Then…who did you mean…” Eragon said slowly. Angela threw up her hands angrily.

“You’re IMPOSSIBLE! Myoka, you numbskull!” she exclaimed furiously. Suddenly everything from the fight in Tronjheim came flooding back to Eragon. He remembered Myoka landing next to him in the ring of Urgals, Myoka aiding him fighting Durza, Myoka fighting off Durza while Eragon was completely engrossed in Durza’s memories, and Myoka braving everything to ensure he was going to come out of that predicament alive.

“…oh…” he managed to gasp. Murtagh and Arya glanced at him quizzically. What is it, little one? inquired Saphira through their mental bond. Eragon felt really stupid right then. Angela moved so he could see the midnight-haired girl lying on a long bed on the other side of the room.

“She paid a terrible and grave price for your life, Eragon Shadeslayer,” murmured Angela. “Crippled…” Eragon felt raw regret tearing at his heart. What had he done…?

“Myoka…I’m so sorry…I never meant for you to get hurt like this…” he apologized unsteadily. The girl shook her head slightly with a faint smile.

“You are the Alagaësia’s last hope for freedom…” she responded tranquilly. Eragon felt like crying right there and then. Murtagh laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“I think she believes she did what she had to for if you died, so would Saphira. And without you and Saphira Alagaësia would’ve fallen under Galbatorix’s evil rule,” Murtagh explained softly. Myoka nodded and attempted to sit up slightly. She winced when she moved her left shoulder even a little. Murtagh walked over and sat in the chair Angela had pulled up.

“Yes, Eragon, that is exactly my reasoning,” she informed him.

“Careful with sitting up, you could damage your shoulder more than you already have,” warned Murtagh. Myoka gave him a playful grin.

“It can’t hurt more than now,” she said ruefully. Murtagh smiled slightly at her…

Murtagh was completely head over heals with a new kind of emotion. He felt it every time he saw Myoka. Her beauty, her grace, her charm, and her wisdom…everything about her was amazing. The emotions he felt towards her were so strong he could barely define what they were and what they were telling him. It seemed unfortunate and somewhat awkward he felt he had just fallen right in love with Myoka. The enemy’s most faithful servant’s daughter.