The Unspeaking Hero

by Krysten0216Wheeler

Summary:

Eragon had been tracking a limping deer for a day or two now last I saw him, while I had been tracking a different section of the heard. Eragon was determined to get that one deer. I focused on a big one that looked like if this had been a wolf pack he would have been an alpha. I had just let loose my own arrow, when suddenly there was an explosion from both behind me in the direction Eragon was supposed to be and one to my right. I whipped my head in the direction to the one closes to me to see the weirdest thing. A smooth looking stone that looked to be midnight black.

Notes:

Author's note #1.5: I am fixing different parts of the story to be first person present, as well as adding onto and cutting some scenes depending on if it still feels right to keep the, I do not own Eragon or the Characters that belong to the author. I own Lyalle, Midnight, My girl Thorn, her dragon Shadow, her brother Adrian, and his dragon Blizzard, as well as Lyalle's mother, her dragon, and the were cat who was friends with Lyalle's mother. If I create any more new characters for the stories I will make another authors note but otherwise I won't make them very often.
Also, conversations with just " " are people speaking out loud. Conversations with ' ' and italicized are written conversations. Conversations that are both bold and italicized are mental conversations. With this out of the way I hope you enjoy the story.

Chapter 1: Prologue Shade of Fear

Picture does not belong to me and was found on Pinterest or Google.


Wind howled through the night, carrying a scent that would change the world. A tall Shade lifted his head and sniffed the air. He looked human except for his crimson hair and maroon eyes.
He blinked in surprise. The message had been correct: they were here. Or was it a trap? He weighed the odds, then said icily, "Spread out; hide behind trees and bushes. Stop whoever is coming...or die."  Around him shuffled twelve Urgals with short swords and round iron shields painted with black symbols. They resembled men with bowed legs and thick, brutish arms made for crushing. A pair of twisted horns grew above their small ears. The monsters hurried into the brush, grunting as they hid.  Soon the rustling quieted and the forest was silent again.
The Shade peered around the thick tree and looked up the trail. It was too dark for any human to see, but for him the faint moonlight was like sunshine streaming between the trees; every detail was clear and sharp to his searching gaze. He remained unnaturally quiet, a long, pale sword in his hand. A wire-thin scratch curved down the blade. The weapon was thin enough to slip between a pair of ribs, yet stout enough to hack through the hardest armor. The Urgals could not see as well as the Shade; they groped around like blind beggars, fumbling with their weapons. An owl screeched, cutting through the silence. No one relaxed until the bird flew past. Then the monsters shivered in the cold night; one snapped a twig with his heavy boot. The Shade hissed in anger, and the Urgals shrank back, motionless. He suppressed his distaste--they smelled like fetid meat--and turned away. They were tools, nothing more. The Shade forced back his impatience as the minutes became hours. The scent must have wafted far ahead of its owners. He did not let the Urgals get up to warm themselves. He denied himself those luxuries, too, and stayed behind the tree, watching the trail.Another gust of wind rushed through the forest. The smell was stronger this time. Excited, he lifted a thin lip in a snarl. "Get ready," he whispered, his whole body vibrating. The tip of his sword moved in small circles. It had taken many plots and much pain to bring himself to this moment. It would not do well to lose control now. Eyes brightened under the Urgals' thick brows, and the creatures gripped their weapons tighter. Ahead, the Shade heard a clink as something hard struck a loose stone. Faint smudges emerged from the darkness and advance down the trail. Three white horses with riders cantered toward the ambush, their heads held high and proud, their coats rippling in the moonlight like liquid silver. On the first horse was an elf with pointed ears and elegantly, slanted eyebrows. His build was slim but strong, like a rapier. A powerful bow was slung across his back. A sword pressed against his side on opposite a quiver of arrows fletched with swan feathers. The last rider had the same fair face and angled features as the other. He carried a long spear in his right hand and a white dagger at his belt. A helm of extraordinary craftsmanship, wrought with amber and gold, rested on his head. Between these two rode a raven-haired elven lady, who surveyed her surroundings with poise. Framed by long, black locks, her deep eyes shone with a driving force. Her clothes were unadorned, yet her beauty was undiminished. At her side was a sword, and across her back a long bow with a quiver. She carried in her lap a pouch that she frequently looked at, as if to reassure herself that it was still there. One of the elves spoke quietly, but the Shade could not hear what was said. The lady answered with obvious authority, and her guards switched places. The one wearing the helm took the lead, shifting his spear to a readier grip. They passed the Shade's hiding place and the first few Urgals without suspicion. The Shade was already savoring his victory when the wind changed direction and swept toward the elves, heavy with the Urgals' stench. The horses snorted with alarm and tossed their heads. The riders stiffened, eyes flashing from side to side, then wheeled their mounts around and galloped away. The lady's horse surged forward, leaving her guards far behind. Forsaking their hiding, the Urgals stood and released a stream of black arrows. The Shade jumped out from behind the tree, raised his right hand, and shouted, "Garjzla!"
A red bolt flashed from his palm toward the elven lady, illuminating the trees with a bloody light. It struck her steed, and the horse toppled with a high-pitched squeal, plowing into the ground chest-first. She leapt off the animal with inhuman speed, landed lightly, then glanced back for her guards. The Urgals' deadly arrows quickly brought down the two elves. They fell from the noble horses, blood pooling in the dirt. As the Urgals rushed to the slain elves, the Shade screamed, "After her! She is the one I want!" The monsters grunted and rushed down the trail. A cry tore from the elf's lips as she saw her dead companions. She took a step toward them, then cursed her enemies and bounded into the forest. While the Urgals crashed through the trees, the Shade climbed a piece of granite that jutted above them. From his perch he could see all of the surrounding forest. He raised his hand and uttered,

"Boetq istalri!" and a quarter-mile section of the forest exploded into flames. Grimly he burned one section after another until there was a ring of fire, a half-league across, around the ambush site. The flames looked like a molten crown resting on the forest. Satisfied, he watched the ring carefully, in case it should falter. The band of fire thickened, contracting the area the Urgals had to search. Suddenly, the Shade heard shouts and a coarse scream. Through the trees he saw three of his charges fall in a pile, mortally wounded. He caught a glimpse of the elf running from the remaining Urgals. She fled toward the craggy piece of granite at a tremendous speed. The Shade examined the ground twenty feet below, then jumped and landed nimbly in front of her. She skidded around and sped back to the trail. Black Urgal blood dripped from her sword, staining the pouch in her hand. The horned monsters came out of the forest and hemmed her in, blocking the only escape routes. Her head whipped around as she tried to find a way out. Seeing none, she drew herself up with regal disdain. The Shade approached her with a raised hand, allowing himself to enjoy her helplessness. "Get her." As the Urgals surged forward, the elf pulled open the pouch, reached into it, and then let it drop to the ground. In her hands was a large sapphire stone that reflected the angry light of the fires. She raised it over her head, lips forming frantic words. Desperate, the Shade barked, "Garjzla!" A ball of red flame sprang to his hand and flew toward the elf, fast as an arrow. But he was too late. A flash of emerald light briefly illuminated the forest, and the stone vanished. Then the red fire smote her and she collapsed. The Shade howled in rage and stalked forward, flinging his sword at a tree. It passed halfway through the trunk, where it stuck, quivering. He shot nine bolts of energy from his palm--which killed the Urgals instantly-- then ripped his sword free and strode to the elf. Prophecies of revenge, spoken in a wretched language only he knew, rolled from his tongue. He clenched his thin hands and glared at the sky. The cold stars stared back, unwinking, otherworldly watchers. Disgust curled his lip before he turned back to the unconscious elf. Her beauty, which would have entranced any mortal man, held no charm for him. He confirmed that the stone was gone, then retrieved his horse from its hiding place among the trees. After tying the elf onto the saddle, he mounted the charger and made his way out of the woods. He quenched the fires in his path but left the rest to burn.

Chapter 2: The Spine, and Palancar Valley

Notes:

Conversations with just " " are people speaking out loud. Conversations with ' ' and italicized are written conversations. Conversations that are both bold and italicized are mental conversations. With this out of the way I hope you enjoy the story.

Image does not belong to me and was found on Pinterest or Google.

The sky was clear and dark, and a slight breeze stirred the air. The edges of the mountains were glowing with ruddy light cast by the harvest moon cradled between two peaks. Streams flowed down the mountains from stolid glaciers and glistening snow-packs. A brooding mist crept along the valley's floor, almost thick enough to obscure someone's feet. My brother by all but blood was fifteen, less than a year from manhood much like myself. My brother Eragon has dark eyebrows that rest above tense brown eyes. His clothes were worn from work. A hunting knife with a bone handle was usually sheathed at his belt, and a buckskin tube protected his yew bow from the mist. when we hunt we both oftenly carry a wood-frame pack. I myself have shaggy, ashy black hair and sterling silver eyes. Dark worn tunic and pants and a pair of black leather boots that I managed to make myself. The deer that we were both hunting had led us deep into the Spine, a range of untamed mountains that extended up and down the land of Alagaesia. Strange tales and men often came from those mountains, usually boding ill. Despite all that, Eragon and I did not fear the Spine--we were the only hunters near Carvahall, our home, who dared track game deep into its craggy recesses.

Eragon had been tracking a limping deer for a day or two now, last I saw him while I had been tracking a different section of the herd. Eragon was determined to get that one deer. I focused on a big one that looked like if this had been a wolf pack he would have been an alpha. If one of us did not catch the deer we were hunting, we would be forced to return home empty handed, and our family dearly needed the meat for winter. Especially since we did not have the means to be able to buy it in Carvahall. I had finally caught up with my section of the herd when they started to bed down for the night. I had just strung my own bow and aimed, when something felt off. I ignored the feeling and had just let loose my arrow, when suddenly there was an explosion from both behind me in the direction Eragon was supposed to be and one to my right. I whipped my head in the direction to the one closest to me to see the strangest thing. A smooth looking stone that seemed to be midnight black. I cautiously crept forward to make sure there wouldn't be a third explosion. When I finally reached the stone I nudged it with a stick not wanting to waste one of my arrows in case a wolf pack decided to show up from the smell of blood from the downed buck that I had shot. You'd think the stone would be the most surprising thing of the day but I was more surprised that I didn't miss the shot; I'm not known for being a good hunter unlike Eragon, so this was a new feeling. Deciding that the stone wasn't going to blow up in my face, I picked it up. Now that I was holding it I can say for certain that nature had never polished a stone this smooth. Its flawless surface was as black as the midnight sky, except for thin veins of white that spider-webbed across it. The white veins made me wonder if it really was a stone, but I wasn't certain. The stone was also cool and frictionless under my fingers, much like harden silk. It appeared to be oval and about a foot long. It seemed to weigh several pounds, though it also felt lighter than what it probably should have. Honestly I found it both frightening and beautiful. I should be wondering where it came from or what purpose it's supposed to be used for but I mostly couldn't stop wondering how in the world it got here in the first place.

I decided there was no use pondering it any further for the night and put it in my bag for the time being. I then started to skin the buck and pack up the meat and pelt for the time being before I settled down on top of some tree branches for the night. I would head in Eragon's direction in the morning and ask him what he thought of the strange thing. Going off of the explosion from his area maybe he found one as well. I couldn't wait to find out.
The sun rose the next morning with a glorious conflagration of pink and yellow. The air was fresh, sweet, and very cold, though I could barely actually feel it to be honest. Ice edged the stream, and small pools were completely frozen over. For breakfast I just ate the bread and cheese that I forgot to eat last night with my haste to get the buck skinned. I looked one last time at the charred area where the thing had suddenly appeared from and started for the direction of home, knowing that me and Eragon would meet up along the way.

I found my trail that would lead me to the game trail that Eragon would often use and headed in that direction. Surprisingly the Spine was one of the few places that our king, Galbatorix, could not claim for his own. Stories were told how he lost half his army in these very mountains after they entered the forest. People believed that a cloud of misfortune and bad luck hung over the whole forest. Though if that is the case, than I think the forest is simply being picky about who it wants to let into its domain and out of those who enter who should be allowed to leave so that they may enter again another day.

The trees grew very tall and the sky shone brightly, few people could stay in the Spine for long without suffering an accident of some sort. Eragon and I seemed one of the few who could, not by some gift or another but just for paying a persistent amount of vigilance and some sharp reflexes. Although we hiked these mountains for years we still knew to be wary of them. Eragon liked to occasionally understand their secrets while I thought it best to let the forest have its secrets as long as we could respect each other in our own ways. When it was finally starting to become late evening, I spotted Eragon ahead of me by one of the precipitous ravines that the Spine had. The Anora River rushed by, far below us heading to Palancar valley. Gorged with hundreds of tiny streams, the river was a brute force battling against the rocks and boulders that barred its way. A low rumble filled the air. Eragon didn't seem to notice my presence until I had tapped his shoulder and smiled at him.
He smiled back " What took you so long to catch up Lyalle?"
I shrugged and made two of my fingers mimic someone walking.
"Ah, so you weren't hurrying and were just walking."
Though I knew it wasn't a question I nodded anyways so he wouldn't start having doubts. I helped him set up a small camp in a thicket before showing him the meat and stone looking thing in my pack. He looked both surprised and confused, so I tapped him and tilted my head in a questioning manner.
He smiled playfully at me " Well for starters you actually caught something without me aiming the bow for you." (My face reddened at that statement and I responded by sticking my tongue out at him) "Also I found a stone that looks similar to yours, but it's blue."
I looked skeptical for a few seconds and I believe he thought I didn't believe him
"What, don't believe me? I could show it to you right now."
I shook my head no, trying to signify that, that wasn't the problem. I looked around for a rock for a few seconds before spotting one and picking it up. I pointed at the strange thing that appeared out of nowhere and then shook my head no before pointing at the stone.
"You aren't sure if you think it's a stone or not?"
I nodded in agreement to what he said. Eragon's one of the few who has the easiest time deciphering what I'm trying to say; still has trouble sometimes but he's also still the one who figures it out faster than the others around town. We settled down for the night after that, just watching the moon rise before we both fell asleep.

It took a day and a half, and was even starting to reach noon; before we even started to hear the Igualda Falls blanketing everything with a dull sound of a thousand splashes. The trail led us onto a moist slate outcropping, which the river sped past, flinging itself into empty air and down mossy cliffs. Before us lay Palancar Valley, exposed like an unrolled map. The base of the Igualda Falls, more than a half-mile below, was the northernmost point of the valley. A little ways from the falls was Carvahall, a cluster of brown buildings. one of those buildings I worked at helping the village Blacksmith Horst when I wasn't helping with things on the farm. White smoke rose from the chimneys, defiant of the wilderness around it. At this height, farms were small square patches no bigger than the end of my finger. The land around them was tan or sandy, where dead grass swayed in the wind. The Anora River wound from the falls toward Palancar's southern end, reflecting great strips of sunlight. Far in the distance it flowed past the village Therinsford and the lonely mountain Utgard. Beyond that, I knew only that it turned north and ran into the sea. After a pause, Eragon left the outcropping and started down the trail, grimacing at the descent. I couldn't help but agree with him about the descent part and started to follow again. When we arrived at the bottom, soft dusk was creeping over everything, blurring the colors and shapes into gray masses. Carvahall's lights shimmered nearby in the twilight; the houses cast long shadows. Aside from Therinsford, Carvahall was the only village in Palancar Valley. The settlement was secluded and surrounded by harsh, beautiful land. Few traveled here except merchants and trappers. The village was composed of stout log buildings with low roofs--some thatched, others shingled. Smoke billowed from the chimneys, giving the air a woody smell. The buildings had wide porches where people gathered to talk and conduct business. Occasionally a window brightened as a candle or lamp was lit. Eragon and I both heard men talking loudly in the evening air while wives scurried to fetch their husbands, scolding them for being late.
"Lyalle, I'm going to Sloans to see if we can get more meat. Your meat will last us a while but I'm worried that it won't last the full winter. So I'm going to see if I can trade my stone for more meat."
I nodded at him and mimicked walking while pointing towards Horst's workshop.
"Alright. When I'm done I'll come looking for you there."
I smiled and nodded while heading towards Horst's place. When I arrived Horst seemed to be working on a surprise project for Elain. A while back I had suggested he make her a glass rose that she could keep forever instead of one that could die. The glass making isn't an easy process and although he has more experience at the forge, oftenly he'll have me help him with the glass making. Last I asked about it he had given me two reasons why. First that it had been my idea and this way I get equal credit for it and second something about having better hands for the job since mine were smaller compared to his. Horst was a bulking man with a rumbling voice, with a thick neck and he was known for wearing a scarred leather apron for his smithing job. He has powerful arms that were bare to the elbow, a great expanse of a hairy muscular chest was visible through the top of his shirt. He also had a black beard that was usually carelessly trimmed, roiled and knotted much like his jaw muscles had a tendency to do, especially when he was starting to get mad but was trying to just stay stern. Horst smiled at me when I waved and carefully put his project down gently for the time being.
"Back from the hunt finally I see."
I smiled again and nodded and then pointed to the project while tilting my head at the same time. Hoping that he understands what I'm trying to convey.
"You're wondering how my progress has been going since you've been gone?" I nodded smiling "Progress has actually been going quite well, though I'm going to need your help soon to finish off the base before the traders finally arrive. Other than that do you think you can take over for a little bit while I take a small rest?" I nodded and had just put on an apron for the work as well as started the shaping process again, when Katrina had run into the forge. Katrina is a tall girl of sixteen. Knowing how well Sloan and our family usually got along I looked over in worry to hear her say that her father was starting to give Eragon problems. Horst looked towards me
"Do you mine watching over the place while I go to help settle this before it escalates?"
I shook my head no and gestured for him to go, knowing he had a better chance of settling the matter better than I would. After another ten minutes I could hear Horst and Eragon approaching. I set the project down delicately and set the tools a few inches away from it, I removed the apron and shouldered my pack once again and stood in the entrance way; watching them approach now. Horst had just finished explaining that payment was already settled since I was helping him with his surprise for Elain. Eragon had nodded and gestured for me to come over so that we could start on our way home. I waved bye to Horst as we started making our way out of town and Horst made his way back to his spot by the forge. It was a shame that we couldn't accept Horst's dinner invitation but we really needed to head for home before it got much later. Luckily Eragon had remembered to tell Horst to give Katrina a message from Roran, our cousin, since Eragon had forgotten to give it to her himself. I had Eragon fill me in on what happened with Sloan and was just as curious to find out what Sloan had against the Spine so much to not except payment from the thing that I still doubt is a stone. The extra meat weighed us down, but we were both eager to be home, and we both seemed to have renewed vigor fill our steps. The village ended abruptly, and we left its warm lights behind. The Pearlescent moon peeked over the mountains, bathing the land in a ghostly reflection of daylight and causing my own skin to glow in a near deathly pale way. Everything looked bleached and flat. Near the end of our journey, we turned off the road, which continued south. A simple path led straight through waist-high grass and up a knoll, almost hidden by the shadows of protective elm trees. We crested the hill and saw a gentle light shining from our home. The house had a shingled roof and a brick chimney. Eaves hung over the white-washed walls, shadowing the ground below. One side of the enclosed porch was filled with split wood, ready for the fire. A jumble of farm tools cluttered the other side. The house had been abandoned for half a century when we moved in after Garrow's wife, Marian, died. It was ten miles from Carvahall, farther than anyone else's. People considered the distance dangerous because if the family could not rely on help from the village in times of trouble, but Uncle Garrow would not listen. Honestly I didn't want to either because of how peaceful it was out here. A hundred feet from the house, in a dull-colored barn, lived two horses--Birka and Brugh--with chickens and a cow. Sometimes there was also a pig, but we had been unable to afford one this year. A wagon sat wedged between the stalls. On the edge of our fields, a thick line of trees traced along the Anora River. I saw a light move behind a window as we wearily reached the porch.
"Uncle, It's Eragon and Lyalle. Let us in." A small shutter slid back for a second, then the door swung inward. Garrow stood with his hand on the door. His worn clothes hung on him like rags on a stick frame. A lean, hungry face with intense eyes gazed out from under graying hair. He looked like a man who had been partially mummified before it was discovered that he was still alive.
"Roran's sleeping," was his answer to Eragon's inquiring glance. As late as it was that didn't really surprise me so much. A lantern flickered on a wood table so old that the grain stood up in tiny ridges like a giant fingerprint. Near a woodstove were rows of cooking utensils tacked onto the wall with homemade nails. A second door opened to the rest of the house. The floor was made of boards polished smooth by years of tramping feet. Eragon and I pulled off our packs and took out the meat we both had.
"What's this? Did you buy meat? Where did you get the money?" asked our uncle harshly as he saw the wrapped packages from Eragons bag but not mine.
Eragon took a breath and I knew this would be interesting to watch. "No, Horst bought it for us."
"You let him pay for it? I told you before, I won't beg for our food. If we can't feed ourselves, we might as well move into town. Before you can turn around twice they'll be sending us used clothes and asking if we'll be able to get through the winter." Garrow's face paled with anger.
"I didn't accept charity," snapped Eragon. "Horst said that it was already paid off since Lyalle's been helping him with that surprise for Elain."
Garrow didn't look happy still but at least looked pacified. Eragon and I hung our bows and quivers on hooks beside the front door.
"Lyalle and I found something that could be worth some money." He set his stone on the table and I sat mine next to his though I would have preferred to have put it in our room. Garrow bowed over them: the hungry look on his face became ravenous, and his fingers moved with a strange twitch.
"You found these in the Spine?"
"Yes," said Eragon. He explained what had happened. "And to make matters worse, I lost my best arrow. I'll have to make more before long." I smiled at the mention of the arrow. They both stared at the stone like things in the near darkness.
"How was the weather?" asked our uncle, lifting the stones. His hands tightened around them like he was afraid they would suddenly disappear. Though I couldn't help but hope mine would at this rate.
"Cold," was Eragon's reply and I nodded in agreement. "It didn't snow, but it froze each night."
Garrow looked worried by the news. "Tomorrow you'll both have to help Roran finish harvesting the barley. If we can get the squash picked, too, the frost won't bother us."
He passed the stones back to Eragon and I.
"Here, keep it. When the traders come, we'll find out what they're worth. Selling it is probably the best thing to do. The less we're involved with magic, the better....Why did Horst pay for the meat?"
It took only a moment for Eragon to explain his argument with Sloan.
"I just don't understand what angered him so."
Garrow shrugged. "Sloan's wife, Ismira, went over the Igualda Falls a year before you and Lyalle were brought here. He hasn't been near the Spine since, nor had anything to do with it. But that's no reason to refuse payment. I think he wanted to give you trouble."

Eragon swayed blearily and I myself was trying not to fall asleep on my feet, and said, "It's good to be back." I nodded in agreement. Garrow's eyes softened, and he nodded. Eragon and I stumbled to our room, he pushed the stone under his bed, then he fell to his mattress. I put mine on my bedside table and got on the bed and under the covers as well. Home for the first time since before the hunt, we were able to relax completely as sleep overtook us both.

Chapter 3: The Tale of the Riders

Notes:

Conversations with just " " are people speaking out loud. Conversations with ' ' and italicized are written conversations. Conversations that are both bold and italicized are mental conversations. With this out of the way I hope you enjoy the story.

Picture is from Pinterest

I had just woken up, I knew I would need to get breakfast going soon, first before getting up I took a look around mine and Eragons room. Beside the beds was a row of shelves that were covered with objects we had both collected. There were twisted pieces of wood ( some found naturally while others being my failed attempts at wood carvings), odd bits of shells, rocks that had been broken to reveal shiny interiors, and strips of dry grass tied into knots. Eragons favorite item was a root so convoluted he never tired of looking at it. My favorite item was an old tome that Garrow said he thought might have belonged to my real mother since Eragons mother had said that it was rightfully mine when I was ready for it, the problem had been that it was written in an unfamiliar language that Garrow couldn't teach me; so I learned it from the town's story teller named Brom. Other than these things the rest of the room was bare, except for two small dressers and a shared nightstand. After that look around the room I finally got up and got breakfast going when I noticed the sun was coming up and knew that the others would be awake soon. Sooner if I decided to wake them up myself, which I very much considered to do to Roran at the very least since we didn't get to see him last night. I gave a mischievous smile having made up my mind. I set the table and put the food down for Garrow to find and then put his coffee in his usual spot that he sits at. I smiled at Garrow and nodded towards the food and coffee when he walked in. Then with my mischievous smile growing I started heading for Roran's room. I think Garrow looked amused when I passed him but I was too focused on sneaking to Roran's room to pay full attention. When I reached his door, I gently eased it open and peered in to find that surprisingly, he was still asleep. I think my grin somehow became wider and I quietly made my way to his bed side. Once in jumping distance; I pounced on him and started to tickle his sides. Roran let out a yelp of surprise before he started laughing and trying to get me off of him. After a few more seconds of tickling him, I leapt off of him and ran for the main room. I dashed past Garrow with a look of victory on my face before running for the barn. The moment I reached the barn doors I quickly scaled the sides until I reached the roof. Once I got to the top I looked down to see Roran had only just now reached the barn itself. I couldn't help but smile innocently down at him while he also smiled and just shook his head at me. We both turned our heads to see Garrow laughing at our antics from the porch.

"Why don't you boys come on back inside before Eragon wakes up so that way we can all eat together when he does wake up?"

I nodded smiling and a little red. I climbed down and ducked under Rorans arms and ran for the porch. Once there I quickly sat by Uncle Garrow, knowing that Roran wouldn't make a move for revenge with him right there at the very least. Oh yeah, Roran is two years older than Eragon and I, though I was older than Eragon by six months. ( I still seem to be treated like the youngest, though that might be because of the kids that used to pick on me when we still lived closer to town because of my lack of a voice) Roran was also muscular, sturdy, and careful with his movements. All three of us could not have been closer even if we all had been real brothers. We had all grabbed pieces of chicken and were getting ready to eat when Eragon finally walked into the room. I smiled and waved at him from my seat while Roran stood up with his own smile.

"I'm glad you and Lyalle are back. How was the trip?"

( typically I would wonder why he didn't ask me but I wasn't even sure if I could come up with hand signals to describe how chaotic and relaxing it was all at the same time)

"Hard," replied Eragon. "Did Uncle tell you what happened?"

Eragon grabbed some chicken for himself. While Eragon told Roran about what happened, including about the stones that I still doubt are stones, once they were mentioned, him and Roran went to go look at the stones. I tapped Garrows shoulder and pointed to the fields, hoping he understood that I was going to go ahead and get to work before the others came back out to join me. He nodded so I headed out the front door and to the fields. The sun was cold and pale, providing little comfort for the others, though the cold itself didn't really bother me I still wished it was sunnier. Under its watchful eye, the last of the barley was stored in the barn. Next we gathered prickly vined squash, then the rutabagas, beets, peas, turnips, and beans, which we all packed into the root cellar. After hours of labor we stretched our cramped muscles, pleased that the harvest was finished. The following days after that were spent pickling, salting, shelling, and preparing the food for the winter. Nine days after Eragon and I had returned, a vicious blizzard blew out of the mountains and settled over the valley. The snow came down in great sheets, blanketing the countryside in white. We only dared to leave the house for firewood and to feed the animals, for we feared getting lost in the howling wind and featureless landscape. We spent our time huddled over the stove as gusts rattled the heavy window shutters. Days later the storm finally passed, revealing an alien world of soft white drifts. Which I made sure to throw a snowball each at both Eragon and Roran to ease up the tension the storm had caused.

"I'm afraid the traders may not come this year, with the conditions this bad," said Garrow. "They're late as it is. We'll give them a chance and wait before going to Carvahall. But if they don't show soon, we'll have to buy any spare supplies from the townspeople." His countenance was resigned.

I was pretty sure the traders would come. I just thought that something else besides the storm was making them late which worried me. I did not want to imagine what could make someone who's way of life consisted on traveling, late. The others grew anxious as the days crept by without a sign of the traders, I still believed they would make it. Talk was sparse, and depression hung over the house. On the eighth morning, Roran walked to the road and confirmed that the traders had not yet passed. The day was spent readying for the trip into Carvahall, scrounging with grim expressions for saleable items. That evening, out of desperation, Eragon checked the road again. He found deep ruts cut into the snow, with numerous hoofprints between them. Elated, he ran back to the house whooping, bringing new life to our preparations. We packed our surplus produce into the wagon before sunrise. Garrow put the years money in a leather pouch that he carefully fastened to his belt. Eragon set his wrapped stone between bags of grain so it would not roll when the wagon hit bumps. I had mine in an old satchel bag I made a few years ago when I was learning basic medicine from the towns healer Gertrude; I would run errands for her and gather certain plants that were close to town. After we had a hasty breakfast, we harnessed the horses and cleared a path to the road. The traders' wagons had already broken the drifts, which sped our progress. By noon we could see Carvahall. In the daylight, it was a small earthy village filled with shouts and laughter. The traders had made camp in an empty field on the out-skirts of town. Groups of wagons, tents, and fires were randomly spread across it, spots of colors against the snow. The troubador's four tents were garishly decorated. A steady stream of people linked the camp to the village. Crowds churned around a line of bright tents and booths clogging the main street. Horses whinnied at the noise. The snow had been pounded flat, giving it a glassy surface; elsewhere, bonfires had melted it. Roasted hazelnuts added a rich aroma to the smells wafting around them. Garrow parked the wagon and picketed the horses, then drew coins from his pouch. "Get yourselves some treats. Roran, do what you want, only be at Horst's in time for supper. Eragon and Lyalle, bring those stones and come with me." Eragon grinned at Roran and pocketed his money, probably already planning how to spend it.

Roran departed immediately with a determined expression on his face. I couldn't help but smile having a feeling who would be spending the day with him. Garrow led us into the throng, shouldering his way through the bustle. Women were buying cloth, while nearby their husbands examined a new latch, hook, or tool. Children ran up and down the road, shrieking with excitement. Knives were displayed here, spices there, and pots were laid out in shiny rows next to leather harnesses. Eragon and I stared at the traders curiously. They seemed less prosperous than last year. Their children had a frightened, wary look and their clothes were patched. The gaunt men carried swords and daggers with a new familiarity, and even the women had poniards belted at their waists. I worried that I might have guessed too correctly that something else besides the snow storm had held them back. I remembered the traders as being full of good cheer, but there was none of that now. Garrow pushed down the street, searching for Merlock, a trader who specialized in odd trinkets and pieces of jewelry. We found him behind a booth, displaying brooches to a group of women. As each new piece was revealed, exclamations of admiration followed. I suppose that there will be a few empty purses by the days end. Merlock seemed to flourish and grow every time his wares were complimented. He wore a goatee, held himself with ease, and seemed to regard the rest of the world with slight contempt. The excited group prevented us from getting near the trader, so we settled on a step and waited. As soon as Merlock was unoccupied, we hurried over.

"And what might you sirs want to look at?" asked Merlock. "An amulet or trinket for a lady?" With a twirl he pulled out a delicately carved silver rose of excellent workmanship. The polished metal seemed to catch Eragons attention, and he eyed it appreciatively. The trader continued, "Not even three crowns, though it has come all the way from the famed craftsmen of Belatona."

Garrow spoke in a quiet voice. "We aren't looking to buy, but to sell." Merlock immediately covered the rose and looked at us with new interest. I thought we would have an easier time getting answers from Brom but knew better than to even signify that in front of the trader, though I had tried to tell Eragon that last night.

"I see. Maybe, if this item is of any value, you would like to trade it for one or two of these exquisite pieces." He paused for a moment while we all stood there uncomfortably, then continued, "You did bring the object of consideration?"

"We have them, but we would rather show it to you elsewhere," said Garrow in a firm voice.

Merlock raised an eyebrow, but spoke smoothly. "In that case, let me invite you to my tent." He gathered up his wares and gently laid them in an iron-bound chest, which he locked. Then he ushered us up the street and into the temporary camp. We wound between the wagons to a tent removed from the rest of the traders'. It was crimson at the top and sable at the bottom, with thin triangles of colors stabbing into each other. Merlock untied the opening and swung the flap to one side.

Small trinkets and strange pieces of furniture, such as a round bed and three seats carved from tree stumps, filled the tent. A gnarled dagger with a ruby in the pommel rested on the white cushion.

Merlock closed the flap and turned to them. "Please , seat yourselves." When the other two had ( I felt like standing to be honest and I didn't want to take the last seat), he said, "Now show me why we are meeting in private." Eragon unwrapped his stone and placed it between the two men while I put mine beside his. Merlock reached for the stones with a gleam in his eyes and I had to fight the urge to take mine back, then he stopped and asked, "May I?" When Garrow indicated his approval, Merlock picked them up.

He put the first stone ( which happened to be Eragons) in his lap, while mine was set back on the table for the time being, then he reached to one side for a thin box. Opened, it revealed a large set of copper scales, which he set on the ground. After weighing the stone, he scrutinized its surface under a jeweler's glass, tapped it gently with a wooden mallet, and drew the point of a tiny clear stone over it. He measured its length and diameter, then recorded the figures on a slate. He considered the results for a while, which I had a feeling would turn out the fact that he had no clue about what it was just as much as we didn't know. "Do you know what this is worth?"

"No." admitted Garrow. His cheek twitched, and he shifted uncomfortably on the seat.

Merlock grimaced. "Unfortunately, neither do I. But I can tell you this much: the white veins are the same material as the blue that surrounds them, only a different color. What that material might be, though, I haven't a clue. It's harder than any rock I have seen, harder even than diamond. Whoever shaped it used tools I have never seen--or magic. Also it's hollow."

"What?" exclaimed Garrow.

An irritated edge crept into Merlock's voice. "Did you ever hear a rock sound like this?" He grabbed the dagger from the cushions and slapped the stone with the flat of the blade. A pure note filled the air, then faded away smoothly. Eragon was alarmed, afraid that his stone had been damaged. While whatever self control I had left crumbled and I snatched mine back up into the safety of my arms. Merlock looked at me weirdly and then tilted Eragons stone towards us. "You will find no scratches or blemishes where the dagger struck. I doubt I could do anything to harm this stone, even if I took a hammer to it."

Garrow crossed his arms with a reserved expression. A wall of silence surrounded him and we all waited for it to end. He blurted, "But what is it worth?"

"I can't tell you that," said Merlock in a pained voice. "I am sure there are people who would pay dearly to have it, but none of them are in Carvahall. You would have to go to the southern cities to find a buyer. This is a curiosity for most people--not an item to spend money on when practical things are needed."

Garrow stared at the tent ceiling like a gambler calculating the odds. "Will you buy it?"

The trader answered instantly, "It's not worth the risk. I might be able to find a wealthy buyer during my spring travels, but I can't be certain. Even if I did, you wouldn't be paid until I returned next year. No, you will have to find someone else to trade with. I am curious, however . . . Why did you insist on talking to me in private?"

Eragon explained to him how it was found in the Spine and that the villagers aren't fond of the place. Merlock suddenly gave him a startled look. "Do you know why my fellow merchants and I were late this year?"

Eragon and I shook our heads no.

"Our wanderings have been dogged with misfortune. Chaos seems to rule Alagasia. We could not avoid illness, attacks, and the most cursed black luck. Because the Varden's attacks have increased, Galbatorix has forced cities to send more soldiers to the borders, men who are needed to combat the Urgals. The brutes have been migrating southeast, towards the Hadarac Desert. No one knows why and it wouldn't concern us, except that they're passing through populated areas. They've been spotted on roads and near cities. Worst of all are the reports of a Shade, though the stories are unconfirmed. Not many people survive such an encounter."

"Why haven't we heard of this?" cried Eragon.

"Because," said Merlock grimly, "it only began a few months ago. Whole villages have been forced to move because Urgals destroyed their fields and starvation threatens."

"Nonsense," growled Garrow. "We haven't seen any Urgals; the only one around here has his horns mounted in Morn's tavern." Merlock arched an eyebrow. "Maybe so, but this is a small village hidden by mountains. It's not surprising that you've escaped notice. However, I wouldn't expect that to last. I only mentioned this because strange things are happening here as well, if you found such a stone in the Spine." With that sobering statement, he bid them farewell with a bow and slight smile.

Garrow headed back to Carvahall with Eragon and I trailing behind.

"What do you think?" asked Eragon.

"I'm going to get more information before I make up my mind. Take the stones back to the wagon, then do what you want. I'll meet you two for dinner at Horst's."

We both nodded and me and Eragon split up to go our own separate ways as well since he knew I wanted to ask Brom about the strange things.

I started making my way to his house where I figured he would be since it wasn't time for the story tellers to start yet. When I was finally in view of his home I saw the strangest thing; Brom let some stranger who was shrouded in a red cloak into his home. I knew I shouldn't have pried but something felt like it was compelling me to listen to what Brom and the Stranger had to say. So I quietly crept forward until I was by one of the thinner windows that Brom always complained let a draft into the house and to be honest I was in shock from what I overheard.

"What are you doing in Carvahall, Thorn?"

"Fate and destiny has been set in motion over the course of this last month, Brom."

"What do you mean it's been set in motion?"

"Arya was captured by a Shade and a band of Urgals. She sent the egg away before they could have it and it has fallen into the hands of its destined rider."

"What? Urgals and the eggs' been found by its rider? Has it hatched yet?"

"No it has not hatched but destiny has shifted slightly and another egg appeared at the same time as the original. There will now be two new riders meant to oppose Galbatorix."

"You're serious, two new riders?"

"Yes, I am certain."

"What about Arya, will she be alright?"

"Yes, Arya is eventually rescued but she will need to hold on and endure until that time comes. Also you do know that you may call me by my first name when it's just us, right?'

"Yes, I am aware of this Varda."

"Good. I must be going now old friend, but I must warn you that this time right now is only the calm before the storm."

"I know. Goodbye Varda."

"Goodbye Brom."

I was glad I was already hidden at the angle that I was at because there's no way I would have been able to move in time before I would have been seen by the Female (apparently) Stranger. After she had left, Brom settled down for supper which reminded me that I needed to get to Horst's. I ran quickly so I wouldn't be late but because my thoughts were so preoccupied that I ended up slamming head first into Baldor who was also on his way to his home with his father Horst.

"Whoa there Lyalle, are you alright?"

I nodded quickly trying to catch my breath.

"Are you sure? Those jerks aren't giving you trouble again are they?"

I quickly shook my head at that, letting him know that it wasn't the bully's. He still seemed skeptical about believing that everything was alright but thankfully he also didn't press anymore questions my way.

"Alright then. Well we better get inside before we're late." flashing a smile at me which I returned, then we both entered the house.

Dinner at Horst's was hearty. The room was full of conversation and laughter. Sweet cordials and heavy ales were consumed in copious amounts, adding to the boisterous atmosphere. When the plates were empty, Horst's guests left the house and strolled to the field where the traders were camped. A ring of poles topped with candles had been stuck into the ground around a large clearing. Bonfires blazed in the background, painting the ground with dancing shadows. The villagers slowly gathered around the circle and waited expectantly in the cold. Soon the Troubadours, stately minstrels put on their plays, but before long the candles sputtered in their sockets and everyone was drawn together into a tight circle, the old storyteller Brom stepped forward. A knotted white beard rippled over his chest, and a long black cape was wrapped around his bent shoulders, obscuring his body. He spread his arms with hands that reached out like talons and recited thus:

"The sands of time cannot be stopped. Years pass whether we will them or not. . . but we can remember. What has been lost may yet live on in memories. That which you will hear is imperfect and fragmented, yet treasure it, for without you it does not exist. I give you now a memory that has been forgotten, hidden in the dreamy haze that lies behind us."

His keen eyes inspected their interested faces. His gaze lingered on Eragon and I last of all. I feared for a second that he knew that I had been listening to him and his friend, but then he continued on.

"Before your grandfathers' fathers were born, and yes, even before their fathers, the Dragon Riders were formed. To protect and guard was their mission, and for thousands of years they succeeded. Their prowess in battle was unmatched, for each had the strength of ten men. They were immortal unless blade or poison took them. For good only were their powers used, and under tutelage, tall cities and towers were built out of the living stone. While they kept peace, the land flourished. It was a golden time. The elves were our allies, the dwarves our friends. Wealth flowed into our cities, and men prospered. But weep . . . for it could not last."

Brom looked down silently. Infinite sadness resonated in his voice.

"Though no enemy could destroy them, they could not guard against themselves. And it came to pass at the height of their power that a boy, Galbatorix by name, was born in the province of Inzilbeth, which is no more. At ten he was tested, as was the custom, and it was found that great power resided in him. The Riders accepted him as their own.

"Through training he passed, exceeding all others in skill. Gifted with a sharp mind and strong body, he quickly took his place among the Riders' ranks. Some saw his abrupt rise as dangerous and warned the others, but the Riders had grown arrogant in their power and ignored caution. Alas, sorrow was conceived that day."

"So it was that soon after his training was finished, Galbatorix took a reckless trip with two friends. Far north they flew, night and day, and passed into the Urgals' remaining territory, foolishly thinking their new powers would protect them. There on a thick sheet of ice, unmelted even in summer, they were ambushed in their sleep. Though his friends and their dragons were butchered and he suffered great wounds, Galbatorix slew his attackers. Tragically, during the fight a stray arrow pierced his dragon's heart. Without the arts to save her, she died in his arms. Then were the seeds of madness planted."

The storyteller clasped his hands and looked around slowly, shadows flickering across his worn face. The next words came like the mournful toll of a requiem.

"Alone, Bereft of much of his strength and half mad with loss, Galbatorix wandered without hope in that desolate land, seeking death. It did not come to him, though he threw himself without fear against any living thing. Urgals and other monsters soon fled from his haunted form. During this time he came to realize that the Riders might grant him another  dragon. Driven by this thought, he began the arduous journey, on foot, back through the Spine. Territory he had soared over effortlessly on a dragon's back now took him months to traverse. He could hunt with magic, but often times he walked in places where animals did not travel. Thus when his feet finally left the mountains, he was close to death. A farmer found him collapsed in the mud and summoned the Riders."

"Unconscious, he was taken to their holdings, and his body healed. He slept for four days. Upon awakening he gave no sign of his fevered mind. When he was brought before a council convened to judge him, Galbatorix demanded another dragon. The desperation of the request revealed his dementia, and the council saw him for what he truly was. Denied his hope, Galbatorix, through the twisted mirror of his madness, came to believe it was the Riders' fault his dragon had died. Night after night he brooded on that and formulated a plan to exact revenge."

Brom's words dropped to a mesmerizing whisper.

"He found a sympathetic Rider, and there his insidious words took root. By persistent reasoning and the use of dark secrets learned from a Shade, he inflamed the Rider against their elders. Together they treacherously lured and killed an elder. When the foul deed was done, Galbatorix turned on his ally and slaughtered him without warning. The Riders found him, then, with blood dripping from his hands. A scream tore from his lips, and he fled into the night. As he was cunning in his madness, they could not find him."

"For years he hid in wastelands like a hunted animal, always watching for pursuers. His atrocity was not forgotten, but over time searches ceased. Then through some ill fortune he met a young Rider, Morzan--strong of body but weak of mind. Galbatorix convinced Morzan to leave a gate unbolted in the citadel Ilirea, which is now called Uru'baen. Through this gate Galbatorix entered and stole a dragons hatchling."

"He and his new disciple hid themselves in an evil place where the Riders dared not venture. There Morzan entered a dark apprenticeship, learning secrets and forbidden magic that should never have been revealed. When his instruction was finished and Galbatorix's black dragon, Shruikan, was fully grown, Galbatorix revealed himself to the world, with Morzan at his side. Together they fought any Rider they met. With each kill their strength grew. Twelve of the Riders joined Galbatorix out of desire for power and revenge against perceived wrongs. Those twelve, with Morzan, became the Thirteen Forsworn. The Riders were unprepared and fell beneath the onslaught. The elves, too, fought bitterly against Galbatorix, but they were overthrown and forced to flee to their secret places, from whence they come no more."

"Only Vrael, leader of the Riders, could resist Galbatorix and the Forsworn. Ancient and wise, he struggled to save what he could and keep the remaining dragons from falling to his enemies. In the last battle, before the gates of Doru Areaba, Vrael defeated Galbatorix, but hesitated with the final blow. Galbatorix seized the moment and smote him in the side. Grievously wounded, Vrael fled to Utgard Mountain, where he hoped to gather strength, But it was not to be, for Galbatorix found him. As they fought, Galbatorix kicked Vrael in the fork of his legs. With that underhanded blow, he gained dominance over Vrael and removed his head with a blazing sword."

"Then as power rushed though his veins, Galbatorix anointed himself king over all Alagaesia."

"And from that day he has ruled us."

With the completion of the story, Brom shuffled away with the troubadours. I thought I saw a tear shining on his cheek. People murmured quietly to each other as they departed. Garrow said to Eragon, Roran, and I, "Consider yourselves fortunate. I have heard this tale only twice in my life. If the Empire knew that Brom had recited it, he would not live to see a new month." With that solemn note, we got back into the wagon and departed for home.

Chapter 4: Dragon's Hatched

Notes:

Conversations with just " " are people speaking out loud. Conversations with ' ' and italicized are written conversations. Conversations that are both bold and italicized are mental conversations. With this out of the way I hope you enjoy the story.

Image above was made by a friend.

It was the day after we got back from Carvahall and I was trying to figure out how to tell Eragon everything that I heard Brom and the stranger with more than one name it seems; say,  but honestly I was drawing a blank and settled for figuring out how to tell him that they were not stones but were eggs this whole time. By late evening I still couldn't figure out how to convey the message and prove what I said was accurate at the same time. By the time I entered our shared room late that evening the egg was still on the shelf. We both went to sleep.

That night something abruptly roused me from sleep. I noticed something had woken Eragon and we both seemed to listen for something. All was quiet. I saw Eragon grab his knife from under the mattress. We waited a few minutes before Eragon fell back to sleep but I already had an idea now what might have awoken us, so I set my egg carefully on my bed. When suddenly, a squeak pierced the silence and it came from both eggs. Eragon was suddenly awake again and had rolled out of his bed pulling his knife from its sheath. Fumbling with a tinderbox, he lit a candle where he could see me giving him the shush sign. The door to our room was closed. Though it was obvious the squeak was too loud for a mouse or rat, he still checked under the bed. Nothing of course. He sat on the edge of the mattress and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Another squeak filled the air, and he started violently. My shoulders shook a little from laughing and he looked at me incredulous, but then I tapped my egg and pointed at his which seemed to give him the message he needed. He nodded and grabbed the egg off the shelf and absently cradled it as he studied the room. I rolled my eyes in exasperation at the fact that he apparently didn't get the full message. So I might have been too pleased when it squeaked in his ear. Eragon was giving it a furious glare that the egg ignored, occasionally peeping. Then both of ours gave one very loud squeak and fell silent. Eragon warily put it away and got back under the sheets, which made me roll my eyes. Of course he would choose to handle it in the morning, though I suppose it wasn't his fault that I hadn't been able to tell him that it was an egg. I left his egg there mostly because I figured that if it started hatching that it was at the best advantage to wake him up. I started to patiently watch mine just waiting for something to happen. The moon was shining through our window when Eragon woke again. The stone was rocking rapidly on the shelf, knocking against the wall. Mine wasn't much different in the rocking matter except that it was on my bed and not against the wall. I smirked, I knew it would wake him again. The egg was bathed in cool moonlight that bleached its surface. Eragon jumped out of bed, knife in hand. His eggs motion stopped, but Eragon remained tense. Then the egg started squeaking and rocking faster than ever, mine doing the same but muffled by the bed. I think I heard Eragon swear but then he started dressing, I did as well though I'm certain we had different reasons. The rocking stopped; the eggs had both become silent. Eragon's egg shivered, then rolled forward and dropped onto the floor with a loud thump. Eragon inched towards the door in alarm as the egg wobbled towards him. I just sat back on my bed next to mine. Suddenly a crack appeared on each of the eggs and I couldn't help but smile. Then another crack and another. Transfixed , we each leaned forward to our eggs, though for some reason Eragon still had his knife in hand. At the top of the eggs, where all the cracks met, a small piece wobbled, as if it were balanced on something, then Eragon's rose and toppled to the floor; I caught mine before it fell to the floor and set it on the bed again. After another series of squeaks, a small dark head poked out of the hole, followed by a weirdly angled body. One was coming out of mine as well. I glared at Eragon when he gripped his knife tighter and held very still. Soon both creatures were all the way out of the eggs. They stayed in place for a moment, then both skittered into the moonlight. Eragon seem to recoil in shock while I stay transfixed on it all. Standing in front of us, licking off the membrane that had encased them, were dragons. The dragons were no longer than Eragon's left forearm, yet they were dignified and noble. Eragons dragon's scales were a deep sapphire blue, the same color as the egg; my dragon's scales were a deep midnight black, much like it's own egg. The dragon's fanned their wings; they were what had made it appear so contorted. The wings were several times longer than their body and ribbed with thin fingers of bone that extended from the wing's front edge, forming a line of widely spaced talons. The dragon's heads were roughly triangular. Two diminutive white fangs curved down out of their upper jaws. They looked very sharp. Their claws were also white like polished ivory, and slightly serrated on the inside curve. A line of small spikes ran down the dragon's spine from the base of their heads to the tip of their tails. A hollow where their neck and shoulders joined created a larger-than-normal gap between the spikes. Eragon shifted slightly making the dragon's snap their heads towards him. Hard, ice-blue eyes and light, but intense silver eyes fixed on him. Eragon kept very still. The dragons lost interest in Eragon and awkwardly explored the room, squealing as they bumped into a wall or furniture. With a flutter of wings, they leapt onto the bed and crawled to Eragon's pillow, squeaking. Their mouths were open pitifully, like a young bird's, displaying rows of pointed teeth. Eragon sat cautiously on the end of his bed and I soon joined next to him. His dragon smelled his hand, nibbled his sleeve. Eragon pulled his arm back. My dragon had been doing much the same as Eragon's though I simply lifted my sleeve higher so it couldn't eat it by accident. A smile tugged at Eragon's lips as he looked at the dragon's, while I hadn't quite stopped smiling since I realized they were hatching. Me and Eragon had reached out to touch the dragons about the same time. Suddenly a blast of icy energy surged into my hand and raced up my arm, burning in my veins like liquid fire. I fell back and vaguely noticed Eragon do the same but followed by a wild cry. An iron clang filled my ears, and I heard a soundless scream of rage. Every part of my body seared with pain and for a few seconds I struggled to breath properly. I tried to move but couldn't, so I decided to patiently wait. After what felt like hours, warmth seeped back into my limbs, leaving them tingling. Shivering uncontrollably, I pushed myself upright. My hand was numb, my fingers paralyzed. More intrigued than alarmed, I watched as the middle of my palm shimmered and formed a diffused white oval. The skin itched and burned like a spider bite. My heart pounded frantically, how were we going to hide these marks? I noticed Eragon blinked and assumed that we were both trying to understand what had just occurred. Something brushed against my consciousness, like a finger trailing over my skin. I felt it again, but this time it solidified into a tendril of thought through which I could feel a growing curiosity. It was as if an invisible wall surrounding my thoughts had fallen away, and I was now free to reach out with my mind. Although I should have been more cautious I let my mind reach out while solely focusing on my dragon. It seemed to feel me reaching and made eye contact with me before blinking and the new sense vanished as if one of us had closed our eyes. Eragon seemed to be glaring suspiciously at his dragon and my shoulders shook in a silent chuckle, that seemed to get my dragons attention on me again as it climbed right into my lap and I looked down in surprise. First I was surprised at the lack of energy that had shocked us earlier and secondly I did not expect it to come to me so readily. I started petting mine on its side and looked over to see Eragon rubbing his dragon's head with his right hand. A light tingling ran up my arm but nothing else. Eragon's dragon nuzzled him, arching its back like a cat. Eragon slid a finger over its thin wing membranes. I did the same to mine, they felt like old parchment, velvety and warm, but still slightly damp. Hundreds of slender veins pulsed through them. I just remembered that they must be hungry since they were just born and quickly went to get some meat for both of them knowing that Eragon's dragon would be hungry as well. When I returned with the meat, Eragon was watching them sitting at the windowsill, watching the moon. I handed the meat to Eragon who cut it into small squares and then we both offered one to a dragon each. They smelled the square cautiously, then jabbed their heads forward like snakes and snatched the meat from our fingers, swallowing it whole with a peculiar jerk. The dragons prodded our hands for more food. We both fed them, careful to keep our fingers out of the way. By the time there was only one square left for each, the dragon's bellies were bulging. We offered the last piece to them; the dragon's considered it for a  moment, then they lazily snapped it up. Done eating, Eragon's dragon crawled onto his arm and curled against his chest, mine once again crawled into my lap. Then both dragon's snorted, a puff of dark smoke rising from their nostrils. Eragon looked at it with wonder while I had a coughing fit, since the smoke from my dragon went right into my face. After I caught my breath again I looked down to the dragon in my arms that seemed to be purring. I smiled at it and looked to see if Eragon and his dragon were still awake or not. The answer turned out to be no. I sat my dragon on the bed while I searched through my drawers for a pair a gloves I had in here from a few years ago. It wasn't a perfect fit but it would do until we were ready to tell Garrow and Roran about the dragon's. I knew we would have to hide them outside and although they would do well with each others company it would make it harder to hide their whereabouts if they had to share space. I remembered an old clearing by the river that wasn't too far from here. One of the trees had a giant hole at the roots where a lone wolf had made its home for a while. It would hide the dragon from predators for the time being and I could help teach the dragon to pull a sturdy branch or two in front of the hole in case predators did manage to find it. Though I had a feeling that even at this age I should be more concerned for the predators safety. Once ready to go, I grabbed the dragon, an old blanket and some extra meat, for when it got hungry in the morning. I snuck out the front door and went around the house to get to the clearing. Once we made it to the clearing, I cleared out what snow was left over and placed the blanket inside; I layed the blanket out flat so that way the dragon could lay on it and stay decently warm. I then placed the meat next to the blanket, once everything was set up the dragon crawled in and started sniffing around before laying down. I smiled and patted its head, then it occurred to me that I needed to make sure that it would stay here. I searched for the feeling I had felt earlier from the dragon, with nothing else to distract me I found it almost immediately. My dragon looked at me and I smiled.

"I'm not sure if you can hear or understand me just yet, but if you can I really need you stay here and hide from anyone that isn't me please.?! I don't want to have to tie you to the tree here to keep you safe, so please stay here." I looked imploringly at the dragon, hoping it understood. Suddenly it started purring again and gave a small bow of the head as if it already understood me, then it layed its head down and seemed to fall asleep.

" Thank you. "

Then I stood up and placed a large tree branch with lots of thinner connected branches over the hole to help hide it. I quickly ran back home to get back into bed before anyone started to wake up. Once back inside my room I hid both egg shells from both dragon's into my satchel. I knew no one would look for them there and although keeping the shells seemed ludicrous, I thought that maybe the shells could be reused for something else; maybe I could make a knife or something out of one of the pieces. After all the eggs were said to be harder than diamond, it wouldn't be a horrible idea to try and make a knife out of it. After I hid the satchel for extra caution, I slid back into the bed to go back to sleep for another couple of hours before it would be time to wake up again. When the whole family had woken up, Roran mentioned that he had heard some noises during the night but, to mine and Eragon's relief, did not pursue the issue. Eragon was able to keep his hands dirty enough to keep his palm hidden. I was happy that no one questioned why I was wearing gloves. Between mine and Eragon's enthusiasm the day went by quite quickly. We both managed to sneak some meat out of the cellar, with the food in hand we both went our separate directions. When I reached my dragon it appeared that the dragon was already eating something, as I got closer I could tell that it was a fish that it was eating. I smiled at it and then realized that I couldn't continue to refer to the dragon as it or dragon. Once I reached its side and had its attention, I reached for the feeling from before.

"Will you nod if you are a girl?"

It looked up at me and blinked for a few minutes before nodding. I smiled hugely now that I knew for certain that she could understand me.

"Do you want to pick your own name when you are older?"

She shook her head no.

"Would you like me to think of some and name them off, so that way you can pick one you like?"

She nodded. Hhmm, what name would suit her?

"What about Shadow?"

Shook her head no.

"Star?"

Another no. I looked at her scales and remembered how both the scales and the egg had reminded me of the midnight sky.

"What about Midnight?"

She gave off a loud purr and started to nod.

"Midnight it is then. Would you like me to show you around the forest Midnight?"

She nodded again and hid both the meat and the fish in the hole, once that was done she quickly climbed to the top of my shoulder. Now that I knew she would listen and understand what I would say through our mental link, I started to tell her what I knew about the forest. Including about the different animals and plants. I even told her about what some of the plants could be used for when it involved medicine. I took her back to the clearing knowing that the sun would be starting to set soon. She crawled back into the hole to finish her food after she pulled the tree branch back over the hole. I could feel that she would be safe, so I started for home. I arrived home long before Eragon, I had the feeling that he wouldn't start for home until the sun really did start setting. I went inside to help get dinner ready for the night, Roran looked like he wanted to ask where I've been though he seemed to also know that I wouldn't be able to give a direct answer without showing him so he left me alone about it. By the time supper was ready Eragon had finally walked in, I smiled at him and then angled my head towards the table. He nodded and then sat at his spot at the table. After supper we all went to our rooms, Eragon seemed really worried about his dragon and before we went to bed I gently grabbed his arm and gave him a reassuring smile. I could feel that both our dragons would be alright and that we just had to have faith. He still seemed troubled slightly but was calm enough to go to sleep. Over the next week, Eragon was noticed to be finishing his chores faster than usual; I simply went at the pace that I always have gone at and would still occasionally finish before Eragon. We both kept making as many visits to the dragons as we could. Sometimes we would switch it up and visit the other persons dragon. Both dragons had reached as high as our knees four days after the first week. Eragon's dragon no longer fit inside its shelter in the tree that Eragon had made for her. Unlike Eragon I had asked her if she was a girl or not, and she had responded by nodding her head. I helped Eragon make a bigger shelter that was hidden on the ground. It would have taken three days to complete but with my help we managed to finish it within a day and a half. When the dragon's were a fortnight old, I asked mine to please start hunting in the Spine because it would help keep her hidden until we were ready to reveal her and her sister to Garrow and Roran. I dubbed them sisters since they were hatched at the same time, even if it turned out that they had different parents. Me and Eragon were brothers, even though we had different parents. I could tell that Eragon had either asked or compelled his dragon to hunt away from the valley. The mental contact between Midnight and I seemed to grow stronger as well, soon I could contact her from three leagues away. One day I decided to bring my Mother's tome with me when I visited Midnight, it had been quite some time since I last read it, and I wondered what I might have forgotten about it. As I started reading it to her I started to realize that things I had thought to be stories when I was younger, were actually journal entries. They spoke of how dragons could eventually speak through a mental connection when bonded with a rider, that once they hit the age of six months that they would be able to breath fire. It gave a detailed description on how to make certain saddles for the dragons. It talked about the individual Rider swords one would receive at a certain point in their training. It even talked about magic but I skipped over that not wanting to risk hurting either one of us. It even had drawings of the different dragons that she had met. I learned many things that afternoon that I wasn't expecting to learn, but the two most important things had been, one; that my mother had once been a Dragon Rider, two; I finally learned my mother's name. ' Evarina stjarna ' 'Star '

For a while I just sat there in shock, Midnight was trying to gain my attention to make sure I was okay, but at first all I could do was sit there for a few minutes before I looked down at her and smiled. It may have not been every answer that I wanted but it was enough for now. I looked up and realized that it was getting late, I kissed the top of Midnight's head and started home. By the time the month was close to ending both dragons had gone from making squeaks to a roar and the humming had become low rumbles. Eragon seemed concerned by the lack of fire but I just shook my head to indicate that he shouldn't worry. When the month had completely ended, Eragon's elbow was level with both dragon's shoulders. In that brief span of time, they had transformed from small, weak animals into powerful beast. Their hard scales were as tough as chain-mail armor, their teeth like daggers. Midnight seemed to understand to keep any evidence of her whereabouts as far away from the farm as possible. With Eragon's dragon, well let's just say it's a good thing that Garrow and Roran didn't go into the forest unless necessary to do so. The dragon left many signs that she was there, we were also fortunate that no one had decided to follow us when we went into the forest. I had also told Midnight about Garrow and Roran, as well as about Carvahall and all the villagers. Though it took a lot of soothing words to keep her from going after Sloan or the people who used to bully me. Sadly since Eragon can't read both English or the Ancient Language I couldn't tell him about what I knew from my Mother's book. Eragon and I both wanted to tell Garrow and Roran about the dragons, but Eragon wanted to wait until he had more information about the dragons and a name for his dragon; which meant he would have to talk to Brom. So when Roran went to get a chisel repaired in Carvahall, we both volunteered to go with him. Though I'll admit that I wasn't going with him to talk with Brom, I was going so that way I could help Horst finish the surprise for Elain. I went to go tell Midnight that we would be gone for most of the next day and that she shouldn't worry when suddenly.

"Lyalle."

I stopped and stared up at her in surprise.

"Will you say that again please?"

She nodded "Lyalle."

I smiled even wider and patted her side.

"Do not worry. I will see you when we get back from town tomorrow, I promise."

She dipped her head in acceptance and gave a low purr. I smiled and ran back to the house so that way we would be ready to go in the morning. When morning came the three of us started off for Carvahall, when we reached the outskirts of Carvahall, Eragon set off for Broms' while me and Roran headed for Horst's place. When we reached the forges there was a stranger there, Horst seemed to be speaking to him about fixing some sockets for a mill. I mostly ignored the conversation, but waved to Horst to let him know we were here and that I would start to finish the glass base for the roses. Originally we were just going to make one rose but we decided to make a bouquet, with difficulty I had already made a glass basket for the bouquet to go into. Now all we needed was a base to fuse to the bottom of the basket so that way wherever Elain decided to place the basket, it wouldn't wobble and fall over. I got to work once I gathered everything that I would need to finish it all today, by the time that I realized that the stranger was talking to Roran, I was almost finished with the base. At that point I started to both pay attention to the conversation and the base. More so on the base because I didn't want to ruin Elain's surprise just because I started to not focus on it properly. Once finished with the base I removed it from the fire with it's now connected basket and set them aside to cool. I walked over to Roran after removing and putting away all the equipment that I had used. Now that I was beside Roran I could tell that the stranger was talking about Roran coming to work for him at the mill. I looked up at Roran to see that he seemed to be actually considering the proposition. I was shocked by this and knew that Eragon and Garrow wouldn't be pleased to hear this, then I couldn't help but wonder how the conversation had gone on this long and concluded that the stranger must have kept going back and forth between telling Roran about the mill and answering questions. Finally the conversation seemed to be ending.

"Thank you for the offer Mr. Dempton. I'll give it some thought and let you know my answer when you come to retrieve the sockets." So that's the Stranger's name.

"Very well. I look forward to hearing your answer then." They both nodded to each other and then Mr. Dempton left. We soon left Horsts' after that and met up with Eragon at the outskirts. On the way home Roran said, "There was a stranger from Therinsford at Horst's today."

"What's his name?" asked Eragon. He sidestepped a patch of ice and continued walking at a brisk pace, me doing the same behind him.

"Dempton. He came here to have Horst forge him some sockets," said Roran. His stocky legs plowed through a drift, clearing the way for us, guess I was wrong about sockets being fixed since they're being forged instead.

"Doesn't Therinsford have it's own smith?"

"Yes," replied Roran, "but he isn't skilled enough." He glanced at Eragon. With a shrug he added, "Dempton needs the sockets for his mill. He's expanding it and offered me a job. If I accept, I'll leave with him when he picks up the sockets."

Miller's worked all year. During winter they ground whatever people brought them, but in harvest season they bought grain and sold it as flour. It was hard, dangerous work; workers often lost fingers or hands to the giant milestones. "Are you going to tell Garrow?" asked Eragon.

"Yes." A grimly amused smile played across Roran's face. I could tell tension was going to escalate from here on.

"What for? You know what he thinks about us going away. It'll only cause trouble if you say anything. Forget about it so we can eat tonight's dinner in peace."

I couldn't help but deadpan at Eragon's lack of tack and sense, obviously Roran wasn't doing this because he wanted to leave us; I suspected that it was for Katrina.

"I can't. I'm going to take the job."

Eragon halted. "Why?" They face each other, their breath visible in the air. "I know money is hard to come by, but we always manage to survive. You don't have to leave."

"No, I don't. But the money is for myself." Roran tried to resume walking, but Eragon refused to budge.

"What do you need it for?" he demanded. I rolled my eyes at this, feeling like I was accidentally being forgotten by them.

Roran's shoulders straightened slightly. "I want to marry."

Bewilderment and astonishment seemed to overwhelm Eragon. "Katrina?" he asked weakly, just to confirm. Roran nodded. "Have you asked her?"

I couldn't help but think about how my assumption was right. "Not yet, but come spring, when I can raise a house, I will."

"There's too much work on the farm for you to leave now," protested Eragon, once again I rolled my eyes. "Wait until we're ready for planting."

"No," said Roran, laughing slightly. "Spring's the time I'll be needed the most. The ground will have to be furrowed and sown. The crops must be weeded--not to mention all the other chores. No, this is the best time for me to go, when all we really do is wait for the seasons to change. You two and Garrow can make do without me. If all goes well, I'll soon be back working on the farm, with a wife."

Eragon reluctantly conceded that Roran made sense. He shook his head, but whether with amazement or anger, was difficult to tell. "I guess I can only wish you the best of luck. But Garrow may take this with ill humor."

"We will see."

We resumed walking finally, the silence a barrier between them. Eragon's heart was disturbed. It would take time before he could look upon this development with favor. When we arrived home, Roran did not tell Garrow of his plans, but Eragon and I were sure that he soon would. Once home I went to our room and grabbed some parchment and a bottle of ink as well as a quill, I grabbed my mother's book as well. Then I ran for the clearing, so that I could tell Midnight everything that had occurred and get the letter written so Garrow could read it to Roran when Eragon went to bed. Usually I wouldn't mind Eragon hearing what was written but I thought it would be better if he didn't think everyone was against him and it was really only meant for Roran and technically Katrina. After Midnight was filled in on everything she helped me write the letter and tie the surprise for Katrina around the letter. After that I returned home to help fix supper and prepare for what was possibly going to come.

The sun had set by the time dinner was served. A blustery wind howled outside, shaking the house. Eragon and I, eyed Roran closely and waited for the inevitable. Finally: "I was offered a job at Therinsford's mill . . . which I plan to take."

Garrow finished his mouthful of food with deliberate slowness and laid down his fork. He leaned back in his chair, then interlaced his fingers behind his head and uttered one dry word, "Why?"

Roran explained while Eragon absently picked at his food and I actually finished eating mine.

"I see," was Garrow's only comment. He fell silent and stared at the ceiling. No one moved, not even me, as we awaited his response. "Well, when do you leave?"

"What?" asked Roran. Even I was surprised.

Garrow leaned forward with a twinkle in his eye. "Did you think I would stop you? I'd hoped you would marry soon. It will be good to see this family growing again. Katrina will be lucky to have you." Astonishment raced over Roran's face, then he settled into a relieved grin; while I was struggling not to laugh to hard so that they wouldn't notice my shoulders shaking. "So, when do you leave?" Garrow asked.

Roran regained his voice. "When Dempton returns to get the sockets for the mill."

Garrow nodded. "And that will be in . . . ?"

"Two weeks."

"Good. That will give us time to prepare. It'll be different to have the house to ourselves. But if nothing goes amiss, it shouldn't be for too long." He looked over the table and asked, "Eragon, Lyalle, did you two know of this?" Eragon answered for us and shrugged ruefully, though I would have left out the rueful part if I could properly answer. "Not until today. . . . It's madness." I rolled my eyes at the madness comment and shook my head to insinuate that it wasn't madness.

Garrow ran a hand over his face. "It's life's natural course." He pushed himself up from the chair. "All will be fine; time will settle everything. For now, though, let's clean the dishes." We all got up and helped him in silence.

Once Eragon went to bed, I tapped Garrow's shoulder and pointed at Roran after I handed Garrow the letter.

"Roran, come back here for a bit. It seems Lyalle wants me to read you something." Roran nodded and sat back down at the table.

"It says here that he is excited for you and Katrina. That when you tell her your plans and promise to come home as quickly as possible that you should give her this locket to further your promise of a quick return." Garrow stopped reading and him and Roran both looked at me in both surprise and confusion.

Roran spoke up "Where did you get the locket?"

I smiled and tapped the parchment for Garrow to continue reading. "He says that he found it in his Mother's book, that it was given to her when she left home at a young age to find her place in the world. She said in her book that it felt like it brought her luck and made her feel protected when she was scared, as if her family, her loved ones were right there with her through it all. Therefore as a show of support to you both for her to join the family I want you to give it to her."

Once again they both looked at me. Roran looked concerned. "Are you sure? You don't have much of your mother." I smiled widely and nodded, then I put the silver heart shaped locket in his hand. He looked at it for a few minutes, then he stood up, and hugged me. I smiled and hugged him back, happy that he was happy to have it. After that we all went to bed.
The next few days were trying. Eragon's temper was frayed. Except for curtly answering direct questions, he spoke with no one, not even me. There were small reminders everywhere that Roran was leaving: Garrow making him a pack, things missing from the walls, and a strange emptiness that filled the house. It was almost a week before Eragon realized that distance had grown between Roran and him. When they spoke, the words did not come easily and their conversations were uncomfortable. Saphira, Eragon's dragon seemed to help Eragon cope with what was going on. I talked to Midnight about rather if she wanted to meet the others and at first she said we should wait for Eragon and Saphira but when I told her that I had a bad feeling about something happening to Garrow after Roran left she agreed to let him see her while Eragon was in town and Saphira was out hunting. That helped to settle my nerves a little but I still had the strong feeling that something was going to happen to Garrow and it worried me. Especially since two days before Roran was supposed to leave I read something about creatures called the Ra'zac, from my Mother’s journal. It said that they were vile creatures who worked for the King as both messengers and assassins, they were also known for eating flesh and meat; rather it be from an animal or a person. I had to fight the urge to let the bile rise up my throat and take deep breaths, I could feel it. If the King was going to send anyone after the eggs, eggs that he doesn't know have hatched; it would be these creatures. My suspicions were slightly confirmed when I told Midnight about what I read and she had a wild and angered reaction to the information. After I had managed to get her to calm down enough and stop calling the creatures egg breakers and murders. She said she was going to go and tell Saphira to keep an eye on Eragon if he suddenly seemed more distressed than usual. When she came back to the clearing I made sure she would be okay if I went back to the house now or not, she had reluctantly agreed. The next evening I was helping Roran finish packing, when he suddenly went to place a stone that Eragon had given to him years ago back on a shelf instead of in his pack. I quickly grabbed his arm and shook my head no pointing at the stone and then back at the pack.
"But what if I accidently lose it, wouldn't it be safer here?"
I shook my head no once again and pointed at the pack one last time for that night.
"You're right, I should take it. Hopefully Eragon will feel better about all this when I get back in the Spring." He put the stone in the pack.
I patted his arm reassuringly and gave him a smile before going to mine and Eragon's room. When I entered the room, Eragon looked up from the bed and gave me a slightly sad smile. At first I was both confused and concerned about what was wrong, but then he said this and it all made sense.
"Thank you."
I smiled and nodded and then we both went to bed, both knowing that tomorrow would be difficult, one way or another.

Chapter 5: Leaving the Valley

Notes:

Conversations with just " " are people speaking out loud. Conversations with ' ' and italicized are written conversations. Conversations that are both bold and italicized are mental conversations. With this out of the way I hope you enjoy the story.

Picture is from Pinterest

Breakfast was cold, but the tea was hot. Ice inside the windows had melted with the morning fire and soaked into the wood floor, staining it with dark puddles. Eragon and I looked at Garrow and Roran by the kitchen stove and reflected that this would be the last time we saw them together for many months.
Roran sat in a chair, lacing his boots. His full pack rested on the floor next to him. Garrow stood between us with his hands stuck deep into his pockets. His shirt hung loosely; his skin looked drawn. Despite the young men's cajoling, he refused to go with them. So I told Roran that I would stay with him. When pressed for a reason, he only said that it was for the best.
"Do you have everything?" Garrow asked Roran.
"Yes."
He nodded and took a small pouch from his pocket. Coins clinked as he handed it to Roran. "I've been saving this for you. It isn't much, but if you wish to buy some bauble or trinket, it will suffice."
"Thank you, but I won't be spending my money on trifles," said Roran.
"Do what you will; it is yours," said Garrow. "I've nothing else to give you, except a father's blessing. Take it if you wish, but it is worth little."
Roran's voice was thick with emotion. "I would be honored to receive it."
"Then do, and go in peace," said Garrow, and kissed him on the forehead. He turned and said in a louder voice, "Do not think that I have forgotten you, Eragon, Lyalle. I have words for all of you. It's time I said them, as you are entering the world. Heed them and they will serve you well." He bent his gaze sternly on us all. "First, let no one rule your mind or body. Take special care that your thoughts remain unfettered. One may be a free man and yet be bound tighter than a slave. Give men your ear, but not your heart. Show respect for those in power, but don't follow them blindly. Judge with logic and reason, but comment not. Consider none your superior, whatever their rank or station in life. Treat all fairly or they will seek revenge. Be careful with your money. Hold fast to your beliefs and others will listen." He continued at a slower pace, "Of the affairs of love . . . my only advice is to be honest. That's your most powerful tool to unlock a heart or gain forgiveness. That is all I have to say." He seemed slightly self-conscious of his speech.
He hoisted Roran's pack. "Now you must go. Dawn is approaching, and Dempton will be waiting."
Roran shouldered the pack and hugged Garrow. "I will return as soon as I can," he said.
"Good!" replied Garrow. "But now go and don't worry about us."
They parted reluctantly. Eragon and Roran went outside, then turned and waved. Garrow raised a bony hand, I raised my hand in farewell as well, his eyes grave, and watched as they trudged to the road. After a long moment he shut the door. I made him another cup of tea and decided to go see Midnight while he calmed down, before introducing the two. I had a very uneasy feeling about today and knew that they needed to meet each other, hopefully before it was too late. I went to the clearing to find Midnight and nearly tripped over her. I looked down expecting the tail and was met by a much smaller, hatchling sized Midnight who looked very irritated at the fact that I had tripped over her.
"How on earth are you so small again?"
"I'm not quite sure how myself but I've been going from one size to another for a few days now."
"And you didn't tell me?!"
"You were busy with the one called Roran."
"Yes but I was literally here barely two days ago and you still didn't tell me."
"I did not want to bother you, and if you'll kindly move I'll grow bigger once again."
I gave a small sigh and moved, while she grew to the size she was supposed to be.
"You do know that you wouldn't have bothered me right?"
"Yes, but as I said you had others at the forefront of your mind."
"All right, but please next time you discover something; please tell me?"
"Very well I will. Are you ready for me to meet your uncle?"
"Yes, but I want to give him some proper time to come to terms with Roran leaving. But we'll go speak to him before noon, that's for certain."
She nodded and we both settle back to wait for the right time. When noon was nearing Midnight shrunk herself saying that he may not feel as threatened if she were this size in the beginning, I couldn't help but agree to her wisdom. As we made it out of the clearing I could have sworn I saw Eragon go into the forest, but it was much to early for him to be home from seeing Roran off, so I assumed the light just played a trick on my eyes. Garrow stood by the barn with the horses, once I reached the porch I whistled to get his attention. Once he looked over I beckoned him to come inside, as he started walking over I went to mine and Eragon's room to grab a quill, ink, and parchment; as well as my Mother's book in case it turned out to be useful. Then I hurried back into the kitchen and immediately started writing the first sentence before Garrow could get inside. Midnight sat on the table watching over my shoulder.
When he walked in and was about to look at the table I had the paper in front of him for him to read.
' Please don't yell until I've explained! '
He narrowed his eyes and nodded, then I moved out of his line of sight to where he could see Midnight.
His eyes narrowed more but then he sat down in a seat at the table. "Well? Start explaining."
It took quite some time, but eventually I had everything written down and explained; and Garrow read through it all while I tried not to move too much in my seat. When I say I had everything written down, I meant everything. Including why when we first found out, we didn't tell them, and how we were going to tell them sooner but then Eragon got annoyed at Roran for leaving, how the main reason I was telling Garrow now was because I've been feeling like something bad was going to happen at any point today. What he said in the end surprised me greatly since I had been expecting yelling.
"Well Midnight, it's nice to meet you. though I wish I could have met your sister at the same time, I've also come to learn that Lyalle here has a good sense of intuition."
She dipped her head in response. Then Garrow turned his eyes on me.
"You said you felt like something bad would happen today?"
I nodded, "Then go pack some of your and Eragon’s things and be ready to leave the house in case something does happen."
I nodded and went to do as instructed while Garrow stayed and it seemed Midnight was talking to him much like she does with me. Once in mine and Eragon's room, I grabbed both our packs and bows, I left the bows in their buckskin tubes. Then I grabbed both our quivers and made sure the arrows were secured. I found other things that I knew Eragon would wish to have if we were forced to leave, including a blanket roll. I also put his hunting knife into the bag, Garrow brought food and two water skins; both filled to the brim. We both divided the food into the bags, if it turned out that we would end up needing more food later I was sure Eragon or I could hunt for it. In my pack besides the food, I placed my Mother's journal; I placed only a few other mementos that I knew would not survive if the house were destroyed. I had the scarily strong sense that; that would be what we would find by morning. After that I went to pack medicinal things such as herbs, bandages, and a mortar and pestal. I also packed a few spices in a different section of the satchel. After that I had Midnight go hide the bags and everything else somewhere safe, while me and Uncle waited for Eragon. When Midnight got back, me and Garrow were troubled that Eragon still hadn't returned. I was going to ask Midnight to go look for him or Saphira, when she suddenly started to give off a low growl at the front door. The uneasy feeling intensified, Garrow looked between me and Midnight.

"I'm glad I burnt what you wrote and buried the ashes. You need to go and go now."

It was at that point that I stupidly only just now realized that there hadn't been three packs, I started to shake my head no; hoping he would understand that he needed to come with me.

"No arguing. They may not have caught Eragon yet and if they focus on me, it'll give you a chance to find him. If they end up killing me then I want to make sure you tell the boys that I love you all. Do you understand me Lyalle?"

I didn't like it but I understood. I nodded in defeat.

"Good, now go to your room and climb out the window, and remember; I love you all very dearly."

With that last sentence he hugged me goodbye and pushed me towards the hallway. Tears were threatening to form as I ran from the hallway to the bedroom and out the window. After I ran the long way around the house, I ran for the clearing that Saphira usually hid in with Midnight hanging onto my shoulders. Once there I finally stopped running and looked around, it looked like it wasn't very long ago that Saphira must of had a temper tantrum around the clearing. I asked Midnight and she said that Saphira had been there only a few hours ago and that Eragon had been with her. I felt relief wash over me at hearing that, then I realized what must of happened. Eragon must of somehow found out about the creatures and went to get Saphira so that way she could meet Garrow, but when Eragon told her she must have flipped and took him somewhere and is refusing to bring him back. I knew Eragon wouldn't stay away willingly, danger or no danger. Midnight suggested that we hide in the clearing that I had kept her hidden in before the Ra'zac manage to find us. I still wanted to find Eragon but knew that trying to do so this late would just get us lost, I took a much longer route to the clearing avoiding the farm altogether. Once there I settled into an uneasy sleep, no matter what I said Midnight said that she would keep watch for the night. When morning came I hoped that maybe with me and Eragon not being at the house that maybe they left Garrow alone, that dream was shattered when I opened my eyes to see a large plume of smoke, a plume much too large to be from the chimney. I didn't even give Midnight a chance to realize that I was awake before I was up and running for the house, throwing caution to the wind. I could hear Midnight right behind me but I payed little attention to that fact as the farm came into view. I couldn't see the animals, the barn was on fire and I hoped they had gotten away. When I came around the corner I froze in my tracks, the need to find Garrow being the only thing from letting me drop to my knees. The house had been blasted apart. Timbers and boards that had been walls and roof were strewn across a wide area. The wood was pulverized, as if a giant hammer had smashed it. Sooty shingles lay everywhere. A few twisted metal plates were all that remained of the stove. The snow was perforated with smashed white crockery and chunks of bricks from the chimney. We both searched the house quickly and eventually a hand extended from under a section of collapsed roof. It moved weakly, and I quickly made it to his side.

"Midnight, quickly help me get him out from under here."

She was at my side instantly and grew to her much larger size so that she could help me dig him out. Quickly an arm and shoulder was exposed but we were blocked by a heavy beam, putting her side against it she gave a mighty heave and managed to lift it enough for me to drag Garrow out from under it and away from it and away from the house. I wasn't as hopeful as I wished I could be, his skin was gray, lifeless, and dry, as if a fever had burned off any sweat. His lip was split, and there was a long scrape on his cheekbone, but that was not the worst. Deep, ragged burns covered most of his body. They were chalky white and oozed clear liquid. A cloying, sickening smell hung over him--the odor of rotting fruit. His breath came in short jerks, each one sounding like a death rattle.

"Can you carry us both?"

"I must."

I nodded, after a few seconds I realized what we would need to carry him with. It took very little time to find a decent sized board and some leather thongs. Midnight pierced a hole at each of the board's corners, then I looped a piece of leather through each hole and tied them to her forelegs. After checking to make sure the knots were secure, I rolled Garrow onto the Board and lashed him down. As I did, a scrap of black cloth fell from uncle's hand. Just as I picked it up and placed it into my pocket, Eragon landed. He seemed to have difficulty getting off of Saphira, it also looked like his legs were bleeding but it was hard to tell with the pants on.

"Uncle, is he?..." I shook my head no, he wasn't dead but if we didn't get him help soon he would be; I didn't have the proper amount of supplies to treat him with.

"We need to get him to Gertrude, don't we?"

I nodded. I gave Eragon the piece of cloth and he put it in his pocket, then Eragon was about to jump back onto Saphira when I caught his arm.

"What is it?"

I pointed at Midnight and then myself and shook my head no, I pointed at Garrow and Midnight and nodded; then pointed at myself again and shook my head no once again.

"You can't fly with us, but why?"

I pointed at the dragons and made a flying motion, then pointed at our footprints and shook my head again.

"With us flying there wouldn't be a trail of footprints leading from the house, there would only be half a trail from where we would have to land before entering the outskirts of the town?"

I nodded again and pointed to an extra board that I planned to drag with me as I followed them from below. Eragon didn't seem to like the idea but knew we didn't have time to argue. With a be careful the three of them went off and I grabbed the other board and started to drag it after them as fast as I could.
I wasn't as fast as a dragon but before long I managed to catch up with where Eragon must have started dragging Garrow himself, I tossed the board I had been dragging into the underbrush and took off at a dead sprint. At the speed I was going I caught up to Eragon quickly, he looked over once he heard me panting and I realized that I must of been right about his legs being hurt because pain was written all over his face. Once I had caught my breath I reached for the leather and although he was reluctant, I could tell that it eased some of the pain in his legs. After a while of dragging Garrow, we both heard shouting and looked up. Brom was running toward us--eyes large, hair awry, and one side of his head caked with dried blood. He waved his arms wildly before dropping his staff and grabbing Eragon's shoulders, saying something in a loud voice. Eragon didn't seem to be comprehending what he was saying and I could hardly bring myself to listen without the chance of dropping to the ground; I knew it was only a matter of time before the shock of everything completely settled in. Without warning, Eragon suddenly started falling to the ground unconscious, I was suddenly glad that Brom was there, because I wouldn't have been able to grab Eragon before he fell. As I said, Brom managed to catch Eragon and once he had him over his shoulders he gestured for me to continue following after he gave me a quick once over. I did exactly that, the shock was finally starting to completely settle in and it was a fight to just keep my legs moving. Once we reached town, people rushed forward, Eragon was taken from Brom and rushed off to Gertrude. I didn't even notice someone taking Garrow from me, the first thing that I finally took notice of was Katrina and Elain on either side of me; guiding me to Horst's house. Elain was Horst's wife, a small, willowy woman with refined features and silky blond hair pinned into a bun. Her dress was demure and neat, and her movements graceful. They sat me down in the kitchen, both trying to gently pry from me what had happened but I was having a hard time focusing on what they were saying, let alone on how to answer. In the end Elain sent me up to bed while Katrina started to help Gertrude with Garrow. Two days passed with Eragon not waking up, Horst and some others had gone to the farm to try and find out what had happened; Horst even set some paper, quill and ink in front of me and tried to get me to write out what happened or at least of what I knew. But everytime I tried to write something in some sort of way of explaining, my hand would start to shake so bad that it was a miracle I didn't spill the ink bottle. I was surprised by how patient they were being but then figured that Elain must have told them to be slow about pressing me for answers, since they probably thought that Eragon could answer if I couldn't do it.
Later on that day me and Katrina were in the room with Garrow, Katrina was boiling rags while I replaced them from Garrow's head for a fresher one. Suddenly Gertrude entered the room and before starting to grind herbs for a poultice she turned to me.
"Eragon is on his way up to see Garrow."
I nodded still slightly numbed but then the news finally hit me and I gave a small smile. After only a few minutes Eragon came in and took stock of the room. He looked at Gertrude with hopeless eyes. "Can't you do anything about these?"
I saw that he was looking at the burns when he said this. Gertrude pressed a rag into the bucket of ice water, then draped the cool cloth over Garrow's head.
"I've tried everything: salves, poultices, tinctures, but nothing works. If the wounds closed, he would have a better chance. Still, things may turn for the better. He's hardy and strong."
Eragon moved to a corner and sank to the floor, I quickly moved to sit next to him and placed my hand on his shoulder. He didn't seem to really notice until Katrina had come over kneeling on his other side and also put her arm around him. When he didn't really respond, she indifferently left; but not before I gave her a small smile as a thank you for trying. She returned the smile and then left; while fingering the heart locket. I stayed beside Eragon for sometime before the door opened and Horst came in. He talked to Gertrude in a low voice, then approached Eragon. "Come on. You both need to get out of here." Before Eragon could protest, Horst dragged him to his feet and shepherded him out the door while I followed.
"I want to stay," he complained.
"You need a break and fresh air. Don't worry, you can go back soon enough," consoled Horst. I tapped Horst and pointed to the room that they had been having me stay in for the last two days. Horst nodded grudgingly and Eragon grudgingly let the smith help him downstairs into the kitchen. Once they were out of sight I went to wait in the room, knowing that Horst would question Eragon and then eventually Elain would probably escort him to a room up here. It didn't take long before they came up like I thought they would, once Elain went back downstairs, I waited a little longer knowing Eragon would go to see Garrow one last time before going to bed. Once he returned to his room, I gently knocked on the door until Eragon said to come in. He looked up from the bed when I came in, and saw both the concern and questioning look in my eyes.
"When I found out about the strangers I hurried home, but when I got there, I knew I would need to get Saphira before telling Garrow about her so I went to get her; but when I told her about the strangers she flipped out. I climbed onto her back to try and calm her down, then she took to the air and flew deep into the Spine. She refused to take me back until morning and that's when we saw you about to take Garrow to town. I don't blame you for what happened, you know?"
I looked at him, confused until he spoke again.
"Midnight told us everything on our way to the village. I'm sorry, I wasn't there to help."
I nodded at him and gave him a quick hug to inform him that he didn't need to apologize, we both messed up and all we could do was hope. After that we both went to sleep in our own rooms for the first time since we were both left with Garrow.

Everything seemed almost hazy like I wasn't awake, wasn't even seeing through my own eyes but when I looked around I felt surprise well up. I was in Garrows's sick room but instead of the clothes from before he was dressed in clean clothes, his hair combed back. He might have been sleeping if not for the silver amulet clasped around his neck and the sprig of dried hemlock on his chest, the last gifts from the living to the dead and oddly enough the sun was up past dawn, it almost looked like it was noon. I started to look around when someone entered the room, someone in a vaguely familiar red cloak; vaguely familiar until I remembered her from when she visited Brom.
She pulled out a bottle that was a strange color I had never seen medicine look like "This tonic has the power to save you and give you one more chance to see all of your boys; but you must find the will to fight for that chance alongside the tonic."
She said some more words as she managed to get the tonic down Garrow's throat, words that I could not hear but sounded familiar; then the palm of her right hand lit up and everything started to fade into darkness.

I sat bolt up right gasping for air and trying not to retch. Once my breathing started returning to normal and my stomach no longer felt like revolting, I quickly shot out my bedroom door in time to see Eragon doing the same. Garrow's door was open and it was much like the dream but this time Garrow was surrounded by the villagers. Katrina stood next to the bed, face pale and eyes downcast. We both heard her whisper, "I had hoped to call him father one day. . . ."
Tears flooded Eragon's cheeks. He stood there, shoulders shaking, but did not cry out. Mother, Aunt, Uncle-- we had lost them all. The weight of grief was crushing, a monstrous force that left me tottering, but I bit my lip and led Eragon back into his room. He fell on the bed, wrapped his arms around his head, and sobbed convulsively. I felt Midnight contact me to inform me that she would be waiting at the farm with the bags Garrow helped me pack. She said that Saphira did not think it wise to tell the villagers about us yet but that if I still wished to inform them, then I should leave a letter before morning, for that she did agree we would have to leave before they came back, that they may leave the village alone if we weren't here. I didn't like it but agreed saying I would write it once Eragon was asleep.
Suddenly Eragon turned his tear-dampened face toward the heavens and shouted, "What god would do this? Show yourself!" I heard people running towards the room but I was already at Eragon's side wrapping my arms around him trying to convey that he wasn't alone. "He didn't deserve this!"
I held on tighter as I felt Elain add her arms along side mine, both of us holding him as he cried and I had tears streaming down my own face; eventually Eragon slipped into an exhausted induced sleep. Elain stayed there for a while longer, with me leaning into her arms, I wanted to give in to sleep as well; but knew the letter needed to be written.
Before long she finally left to get some sleep or possibly talk to Horst. I waited a few more minutes before going to my own room and grabbing parchment and quill and ink; then I started writing, I had to restart a few times but eventually got this written.
' Dear Horst, Elain, Roran, Katrina, Baldor, Albriech, and the rest of Carvahall.
I'm sorry that Eragon and I can't stay for Garrow's funeral. Please believe me when I say we wanted to, but we couldn't. It's going to be hard to explain why, but I'm going to do the best that I can at explaining it all. You all know about the stones that we found in the Spine, and how the Strangers were asking abut at least one of them. The thing is, Eragon and I found out that they weren't stones at all; the night after Brom told the story of the fall of the Riders. The stones had been dragon eggs apparently. When they first hatched we didn't think that there would be a problem with keeping them as long as we kept them away from people and the farms. At one point we were going to tell Roran about them, but then Eragon got upset when he found out Roran would be leaving to work at the mill. He doesn't blame you Katrina, so I hope this letter doesn't make you think that. Since Eragon wasn't ready to tell him, I waited as well. Especially knowing that there would be no way to explain my dragon without revealing Eragon's. Things were going fine until the Strangers came to town looking for the dragons, expecting them to still be eggs. At the time I didn't know that the Strangers were in town because I stayed behind with Garrow instead of going to town. Eragon wasn't able to warn us because he went to get his dragon Saphira so that she could meet Garrow, and when he told her about the Strangers she flipped out, when he tried to calm her down she took him to the Spine and refused to take him back until morning. As I said I had stayed home, fore the last few days I had, this feeling that something horrible would happen after Roran had left; so after giving Garrow a few hours to come to complete terms that Roran had left for the Mill, I introduced him to my dragon, Midnight. I explained everything that had happened from how we found them to the very moment I introduced Midnight to him, including some things I found in my Mom's journal. Those Strangers weren't human at all, they're creatures called the Ra'zac, the journal said that they were used as both messengers and assassins for the King and that they were known for eating meat and flesh from both human or animal. I have no idea how my Mother knew about them and I'm honestly afraid to find out how. Eragon is more than likely going to want to go after them to avenge Garrow's death, and I'm going with him, I can't leave him to do this alone and I'm sorry I won't be here in person when you read this. Eragon, I'm sure didn't mention Saphira and to be honest the main reason I'm finally doing this is because I believe that when this is all finally over, you all will know about them with or without the letter. Garrow said that he trusted my sense of knowing something bad was going to happen even if I didn't know how I knew it. He helped me pack some bags for me and Eragon, it wasn't until the Ra'zac were at the door that I realized that Garrow hadn't packed one for himself. I tried to make him come with me when he told me to go find Eragon, but he said that they might leave if they didn't find me or Eragon in the house, and if that turned out not to be the case than he could at least make sure that they couldn't find us. Roran, Garrow wanted to make sure that you and Eragon know, that no matter what he would always love us dearly. When Midnight caught Eragon's scent with Saphira she told me to wait until morning in case the Ra'zac had left Garrow alone but might be watching the house. I listened, I believed that they would leave him alone as long as me and Eragon weren't there. I hid in a clearing by the river until morning; but when I woke and looked at the sky, that's when I saw the smoke. I ran for the house and at first I couldn't find Garrow until I dug him out from under one of the roof beams with Midnights' help. Once I had him strapped to the board that's when Eragon was finally able to arrive. Him and Midnight and Saphira took Garrow for the time being while I dragged another board behind me, I knew it would be questionable if you only found half a trail of tracks. Once I finally got to town you all know the rest. I couldn't bring myself to tell you all what had happened and even now I've had to restart this letter three times. Please don't hate us, if you can't stop yourself from feeling hatred than please, at least don't hate Eragon. We'll both be gone by the time you read this letter. I also hope that by us leaving that if we can't find the Strangers that they find us and leave you all alone. I'm sorry if I end up being wrong, but I severely hope that they will leave you all alone. Please don't let Sloan read this, I don't want him to refuse to let Roran and Katrina to be happy together. '

I read the letter twice and then placed it in my room on the nightstand where I knew they would find it at and just waited for Eragon to wake up in his room. When he finally did, he didn't notice me at first. When he rolled out of bed he wasn't expecting me to be there so his body tensed up both in surprise and pain from his legs.

"I have to leave." I shook my head no and pointed at him and then me.

"We have to leave?" I nodded at that.

"Are you sure? They were only looking for one egg, not two. You could stay here with everyone." I shook my head once more.

He seemed to listen to something for a second so I assumed it was Saphira, "You already have supplies ready." I nodded and gestured to the door for us to leave.

"Alright but we'll have to get some leather for saddles." I nodded and we started to make our way down the stairs. We stopped to listen when we heard voices, Elain was saying in her gentle voice, "...place to stay. We have the room." Horst answered inaudibly in his bass rumble. "Yes, the poor boys," replied Elain. This time we could hear Horst's response. "Maybe..." There was a long pause. "I've been thinking about what Eragon said, and I'm not sure he told us everything."

"What do you mean?" asked Elain. There was concern in her voice. "When we started for their farm, the road was scraped smooth by the board he dragged Garrow on. Then we reached a place where the snow was all trampled and churned up. His footprints and signs of the board stopped there, but someone else's footprints and another but much lighter board took up its place. Probably Lyalle's, but we also saw the same giant tracks from the farm. And what about his legs? I can't believe he didn't notice losing that much skin. I didn't want to push them for answers earlier, but now I think I will."

"Maybe what they saw scared them so much that they don't want to talk about it," suggested Elain.

"Maybe, but we won't know until they tell us."

There were no more responses. I pushed Eragon into moving so that we didn't get caught, once we got outside Eragon told me to go back to the farm and wait with the dragons while he got the leather for the saddles. I wanted to stay with him but reluctantly agreed and went to the farm so that Midnight could show me where she put our packs. Once we grabbed the packs we waited at the farm for Eragon and apparently Saphira since she was no longer there, I hoped nothing happened but also knew that there was nothing to do but wait. Eventually Eragon started to come into view but I was surprised to see Brom right behind him, Brom's gaze on Saphira as she landed, as they got closer I could hear Brom saying something.
"So . . . it starts again. But how and where will it end? My sight is veiled; I cannot tell if this will be tragedy or farce, for the elements of both are here. . . .  However it may be, my station is unchanged, and I . . ."
Whatever he might have said faded away as Saphira proudly approached them, Midnight right beside her with amusement in her eyes at Brom's reaction. Midnight was also curious but backed away towards me after she seemed to share a look with Saphira.
"Are you alright Midnight?"
"He has my curiosity but that is all I'll say for the time being."
"I can respect that. Do you like him?"
"I find him to be trustworthy to a satisfactory amount."
I nodded and handed Eragon his pack, quiver, and bow. He took them gladly.
"What are their names?"
"The blue dragon is my dragon, her name is Saphira. Lyalle's dragon is named Midnight."
A peculiar expression crossed Brom's face. He ground the butt of his staff into the earth with such force his knuckles turned white. "Of all the names you gave me, it was the only one she liked. I think it fits," Eragon added quickly.
"Fit it does," said Brom. There was something in his voice that I could not identify. Was it loss, wonder, fear, envy?  I wasn't sure; it could have been none of them or all, I had the strange feeling that it was all. Brom raised his voice and said, "Greetings, Saphira and Midnight. I am honored to meet you both." He twisted his hand in a strange gesture and bowed.
"I really do like him now."
I couldn't help but silently laugh, my shoulders shaking very hard. She blew smoke in my face like she did the night she hatched. I was sent into a coughing fit like the first time and by the time I was able to breath again Brom was asking a question. "What now?" asked Brom. His eyes were sharp and inquisitive. Eragon looked away from him. "We find a place to hide."
"Do you have somewhere in mind?"
"Yes."
Saphira soon took off into the air and Midnight followed her. Eragon took us on a circuitous route in an effort to baffle any possible pursuers. It was well over an hour before we finally stopped in a well-concealed bramble. The irregular clearing in the center was just large enough for a fire, barely three people, a large dragon and luckily a dragon that could shrink down to hatchling size. Red squirrels scampered into the trees, chattering in protest at their intrusion. Brom extricated himself from a vine and looked around with interest and then him and Eragon shared a look of surprise at seeing a much smaller sized Midnight. Thankfully she explained it to them. "Does anyone else know of this clearing?" he asked.
"No. I found it when we first moved here. It took me a week to dig into the center, and another week to clear out all the dead-wood." Saphira landed beside Brom and Eragon while Midnight landed on my shoulder. Both were carefull to avoid thorns on their way in. The dragons then settled down to sleep. Brom leaned against his staff and fixed his gaze on them, while I got a fire going so that we could get food started. Eragon filled a pot with snow and then set it over the flames to melt. When the water was hot, he tore off chunks of meat and dropped them into the pot while I added some salt. It wasn't much but it would do for tonight. When the meat was tender, Brom came over and Eragon served the food. We ate silently, avoiding each other's eyes. Afterward, Brom pulled out his pipe and lit it leisurely.
"Why do you want to travel with us?" asked Eragon.
A cloud of smoke left Brom's lips and spiraled up through the trees until it disappeared. "I have a vested interest in keeping you two alive," he said.
"What do you mean?" demanded Eragon, I had a feeling it had to do with this fate talk I over heard all those months ago.
"To put it bluntly, I'm a storyteller and I happen to think that you two will make a fine story. You're the first Riders to exist outside of the King's control for over a hundred years. What will happen? Will you perish as a martyr? Will you join the Varden? Or will you kill King Galbatorix? All fascinating questions. And I will be there to see every bit of it, no matter what I have to do."
The answer made me feel uneasy, but I accepted the answer for the time being.
"That may be, but tell me, how can you talk with Saphira?"
Brom took his time putting more tobacco in his pipe. Once it was relit and firmly in his mouth, he said, "Very well, if it's answers you want, it's answers you'll get, but they may not be to your liking." He got up, brought his pack over to the fire, and pulled out two long objects wrapped in cloth, strip by strip, like a mummy being unswathed. We gazed, transfixed, as the first sword apparently was revealed. The gold pommel was teardrop shaped with the sides cut away to reveal a ruby the size of a small egg. The hilt was wrapped in silver wire, furnished until it gleamed like starlight. The sheath was wine red and smooth as glass, adorned solely by a strange black symbol etched into it. Next to the sword was a leather belt with a heavy buckle. The last strip fell away, and Brom passed the weapon to Eragon. Next he unwrapped the next weapon which was also a sword, it looked very similar to the first sword but with different coloring and the blade was slightly more slender than the first one. The coloring was more silvery white on the blade and the handle had a small tint of gold to it, the gem in the sword was a diamond. The sheath was a snowy white with the symbol for Illuminator from the ancient language. When I unsheathed it to see the blade didn't even look like it was a type of metal. Almost like it was made of diamond but at the same time like it was still made of something else. It wasn't until I remembered the shells in my bag that I realized what it was made of. I looked at Brom questioningly.
"That sword belonged to your Mother. She called it Islingr. She was the first and so far, last to use the shells of a hatched dragon egg. At least that is what I was told by a friend of hers." I nodded and sheathed the sword once again.
Brom then turned to Eragon. "This sword was once a Rider's blade," said Brom gravely. "When a Rider finished his training, the elves would present him with a sword. Their methods of forging have always remained secret. However, their swords are eternally sharp and will never stain. The custom was to have the blade's color match that of the Rider's dragon, but I think we can make an exception in this case. This sword is named Zar'roc. I don't know what it means, probably something personal to the Rider who owned it." Brom and I watched Eragon swing the sword.

"Where did you get it?"

Eragon slipped the blade back into the sheath and attempted to hand the sword back, but Brom made no move to take it.

"It doesn't matter," said Brom. "I will only say that it took me a series of nasty and dangerous adventures to attain it. Consider it yours. You have more of a claim to it than I do, and before all is done, I think you will need it." The offer caught Eragon off guard as far as I could tell. "It is a princely gift, thank you." He seemed unsure of what else to say, he slid his hand down the sheath. "What is this symbol?" he asked.

"That was the Rider's personal crest." Eragon tried to interrupt and I rolled my eyes remembering how that was a habit of his, but Brom glared at him until he was quiet. "Now, if you must know, anyone can learn to speak to a dragon if they have the proper training. And," he raised a finger for emphasis, "it doesn't mean anything if they can. I know more about the dragons and their abilities than anyone alive. On your own it might take years to learn what I can teach you. I'm offering my knowledge as a shortcut. As for how I know so much, I will keep that to myself."

Saphira pulled herself up as he finished speaking and prowled over to Eragon. He pulled out the blade and showed her the sword. When she touched the point with her nose the metals iridescent color rippled like water as it met her scales. She lifted her head with a satisfied snort, and the sword resumed it's normal appearance. Eragon sheathed it, troubled.

Brom raised an eyebrow. "That's the sort of thing I'm talking about. Dragons will constantly amaze you. Things . . . happen around them, mysterious things that are impossible anywhere else. Even though the Riders worked with dragons for centuries, they never completely understood their abilities.  Some say that even the dragons don't know the full extent of their own powers. They are linked with this land in a way that let's them overcome great obstacles. What Saphira just did illustrates my earlier point: there is much you don't know."

There was a long pause. "That may be," said Eragon, "but I can learn. And the strangers are the most important thing I need to know about right now. Do you have any idea who they are?"

Brom took a deep breath. "They are called the Ra'zac. No one knows if that's the name of their race or what they have chosen to call themselves. Either way, if they have individual names, they keep them hidden. The Ra'zac were never seen before Galbatorix came to power. He must have found them during his travels and enlisted them in his service. Little or nothing is known about them. However, I can tell you this: they aren't human. When I glimpsed one's head, it appeared to have something resembling a beak and black eyes as large as my fist-- though how they manage our speech is a mystery to me. Doubtless the rest of their bodies are just as twisted. That is why they cover themselves with cloaks at all times, regardless of the weather."
"As for their powers, they are stronger than any man and can jump incredible heights, but they cannot use magic. Be thankful for that, because if they could, you would both already be in their grasp. I also know they have a strong aversion to sunlight, though it won't stop them if they're determined. Don't make the mistake of underestimating a Ra'zac, for they are cunning and full of guile."
"How many of them are there?" asked Eragon, I wondered how Brom knew so much but also knew he wouldn't say if he wasn't ready.
"As far as I know, only the two you saw. There might be more, but I've never heard of them. Perhaps they're the last of a dying race. You see, they are the King's personal dragon hunters. Whenever rumors reach Galbatorix of a dragon in the land, he sends the Ra'zac to investigate. A trail of death often follows them." Brom blew a series of smoke rings and watched them float up between the brambles. I noticed the rings were changing colors and darting around, though I think Eragon ignored it at first. Brom winked slyly and I had the strangest feeling he wouldn't be the only person I would know who could do that trick.
I tossed a pebble towards his foot to gain his attention and when he looked over I mouthed "How does the king know of us?"
Brom "You're right, it seems unlikely that anyone from Carvahall could have informed the king. Why don't you tell me where you got the eggs from and how you raised Saphira and Midnight-- that might help clarify the issue."
Eragon told Brom of all that had happened and by the time they were finished the sun was about to set when Eragon finished his tale. Both of them were quiet as the clouds turned a soft pink and I was tempted to throw another pebble just to make one of them say something. Eragon eventually broke the silence. "I just wish I knew where she came from. And Saphira doesn't remember."
Brom cocked his head. "I don't know. . . . You've made many things clear to me. I am sure that no one besides us has seen Saphira, and I am quite certain no one even knows about the possibility of Midnight's existence. The Ra'zac must have had a source of information outside of this valley, one who is probably dead by now. . . . You have had a hard time and done much. I'm impressed."
Eragon stared blankly into the distance, then asked, "What happened to your head? It looks like you were hit with a rock."
"No, but that's a good guess." He took a deep pull on the pipe. "I was sneaking around the Ra'zac's camp after dark, trying to learn what I could, when they surprised me in the shadows. It was a good trap, but they underestimated me, and I managed to drive them away. Not, however," he said wryly, "without this token of my stupidity. Stunned, I fell to the ground and didn't regain consciousness until the next day. By then they had already arrived at your farm. It was too late to stop them, but I set out after them anyway. That's when we met on the road."
I shuddered at the memory of the farm and Midnight curled onto my lap
"It's alright little one. I will always be at your side."
Her words calmed me a bit though I hope that we could avoid more death but I could already feel that, that wouldn't be possible. We were both unsettled but, Eragon asked hotly, "When you saw the mark, the gedwey ignasia, on my  palm, why didn't you tell me who the Ra'zac were? I would have warned Garrow instead of going to Saphira first, and the five of us could have fled."
Brom sighed. "I was unsure of what to do at the time. I thought I could keep the Ra'zac away from you two and, once they had left, confront you both about your dragons. But they outsmarted me. It's a mistake that I deeply regret, and one that has cost you dearly."
"Who are you?" demanded Eragon, suddenly bitter and making me jump. "How come a mere village storyteller happens to have two Rider's swords? How do you know about the Ra'zac?"
Brom tapped his pipe. "I thought I made it clear I wasn't going to talk about that."
"My uncle is dead because of this. Dead!" exclaimed Eragon slashing a hand through the air. "I've trusted you this far because the dragons respect you and Lyalle didn't disagree, but no more! You're not the person I've known in Carvahall for all these years. Explain yourself!"
For a long time Brom stared at the smoke swirling between them, deep lines creasing his forehead. When he stirred, it was only to take another puff. Finally he said, "You've probably never thought about it, but most of my life has been spent outside of Palancar Valley. It was only in Carvahall that I took up the mantle of storyteller. I have played many roles to different people--I've a complicated past. It was partly through the desire to escape it that I came here. So no, I'm not the man you think I am."
"Ha!" snorted Eragon. "Then who are you?"
Brom smiled gently. "I am the one who is here to help you. Do not scorn those words--they are the truest I've ever said. But I'm not going to answer your questions. At this point you don't need to hear my history, nor have you yet earned that right. Yes, I have knowledge Brom the storyteller wouldn't, but I'm more than he. You'll have to learn to live with that fact and the fact that I don't hand out descriptions of my life to anyone who asks!"
Eragon glared at him sullenly. "I'm going to sleep," he said, leaving the fire. Brom did not seem surprised, but there was sorrow in his eyes. He spread his bedroll next to the fire as Eragon lay beside Saphira. An icy silence fell over the camp.
I looked over at Brom with concern in my eyes and mouthed "Give him time."
"I know Lyalle, but thank you. Now get some sleep."
I nodded and climbed into my own bed role and fell asleep.
When morning came I was the first to awaken, so I started to cook breakfast until Brom said he would take over. After that I took out moms sword as well as her journal and flipped to a page that mentioned sword techniques that I vaguely remembered reading about. Once there I placed the book on a flat dry rock and started to slowly copy them, many of them I wasn't flexible enough for but I hoped that with practice and time I would be able to at least do them in slow motion. Once I noticed that Eragon was awake I put the sword and book up, and walked over to Brom and Eragon.
"Good morning," Brom said. Eragon grunted in reply. He jammed his fingers in his armpits and crouched by the fire until the food was ready. We ate quickly, trying to consume the food before it lost its warmth. When he finished, Eragon washed his bowl with snow, I did the same with mine; then he spread the stolen leather on the ground.
"What are you going to do with that?" asked Brom. "We can't carry it with us."
"I'm going to make a saddle for Saphira and Midnight."
"Mmm," said Brom, moving forward. "Well, dragons used to have two kinds of saddles. The first was hard and molded like a horse's saddle. But those take time and tools to make, neither of which we have. The other was thin and lightly padded, nothing more than an extra layer between the Rider and the dragon. Those saddles were used whenever speed and flexibility were important, though they weren't nearly as comfortable as the molded ones."
"Do you know what they looked like?" asked Eragon.
"Better, I can make one."
I nodded to signify that I at least knew how to as well, just without the experience.
"Then please do," said Eragon standing aside; both missing the nod I had given. Though it seemed that Saphira noticed it alongside Midnight, giving both Eragon and Brom a nudge; she seemed to at least be telling Eragon.
"You know how to make the saddles?"
I nodded getting red slightly since I hadn't been intending for Saphira to say anything to him. Brom turned to me "How?"
I went over to my pack and pulled mom's journal out, then I flipped to the saddle page.
"Ah that makes sense, none the less I want you and Eragon to both pay attention and help with them. Someday you may have to do this for yourself." With Saphira's and Midnight's permission, Brom measured their neck and chests. Then he cut ten bands out of the leather and outlined about two dozen or so shapes on the hides. Once the pieces had been sliced out, he cut what remained of the hides into long cords.
Brom used the cords to sew everything together, but for each stitch, two holes had to be bored through the leather. Eragon and I helped with that. Intricate knots were rigged in place of buckles, and every strap was made extra long so the saddles would still fit Saphira and Midnight in the coming months.
The main part of the saddle was assembled from three identical sections sewn together with padding between them. Attached to the front was a thick loop that would fit snugly around one of Saphira's and Midnight's neck spikes, while wide bands sewn on either side would wrap around their bellies and tie underneath. Taking the place of stirrups were a series of loops running down both bands. Tightened, they would hold Mine or Eragon's legs in place. A long strap was constructed to pass between their front legs, split in two, and then come up behind their front legs to rejoin with the saddle.
While Brom worked, Eragon and I reorganized our supplies. The day was spent by the time our tasks were completed. Weary from his labor, Brom put the saddles on Saphira and Midnight and checked  to see that the straps fit. He made a few small adjustments, then took them off, satisfied.
"You did a good job," Eragon acknowledged grudgingly and I nodded in agreement.
Brom inclined his head. "One tries his best. They should serve you well; the leather's sturdy enough."


"Do you want to try the saddle out Lyalle?"
"I would, but to be honest certain heights freak me out. Can we at least wait until Eragon's ready to do it?"
"As long as he doesn't take too long we can. And you know I would never let you fall little one?"
"I know. I'm just not sure if I'm ready yet."
"Very well. Goodnight little one."
"Goodnight Midnight."
With that she layed down to sleep while I put the saddle away. Dinner was made quickly after that. It tasted god even though it was simple. While we all ate, Brom looked over the fire at Eragon and asked, "Will we leave tomoorow?"
"There isn't any reason to stay."
"I suppose not. . . ." He shifted. "Eragon, Lyalle, I must apologize about how events turned out. I never wished for this to happen. Your family did not deserve such a tragedy. If there were anything I could do to reverse it, I would. This is a terrible situation for all of us." Eragon sat in silence, avoiding Brom's gaze, I nodded to him understanding what he was trying to say; then Brom said, "We're going to need horses."
"Maybe you do, but I have Saphira."
I deadpanned at the fact that he thought a horse could keep up with a dragon.
Brom shook his head. "There isn't a horse alive that can outrun a flying dragon, and Saphira and Midnight are too young to carry us both. Besides it'll be safer if we stay together, and riding is faster than walking."
"But that'll make it harder to catch the Ra'zac," protested Eragon. "On Saphira, I could probably find them within a day or two. On horses, it'll take much longer-- if it's even possible to over take their lead on the ground!"
Brom said slowly, "That's a chance you'll have to take if I'm to accompany you."
Eragon seemed to think it over. "All right," he grumbled, "We'll get horses. But you have to buy them. I don't have any money, and I don't want to steal again. It's wrong."
"That depends on your point of view," corrected Brom with a slight smile, which confused me. "Before you set out on this venture, remember that your enemies, the Ra'zac, are the king's servants. They will be protected wherever they go. Laws do not stop them. In cities they'll have access to abundant resources and willing servnts. Also keep in mind that nothing is more important to Galbatorix than recruiting or killing the both of you-- though word of your existence probably hasn't reached him yet. The longer you evade the Ra'zac, the more desperate he'll become. He'll know that every day will give you another chance to join his enemies. You must be very careful, as you may easily turn from the hunter into the hunted."
Eragon seemed subdued by the strong words. He also seemed to be pensive, as he rolled a twig between his fingers.
"I hate to say this Lyalle, but you may have to cover the scar around your throat once again, especially once we start to leave the valley."
Eragon's and mine's heads snapped up to look at him again.
"What do you mean he might have to cover it again? He's been doing pretty well about not covering it anymore for the last two years."
"I know which is why I hate to say this, but if he doesn't cover it, it could easily make him even more identifiable than he already is."
I didn't like it but didn't disagree either, if people saw it, it would make it easier for them to remember other details and if the wrong people heard, it could also get us caught.
"Enough talk," said Brom. "It's late and my bones ache. We can say more tomorrow." Eragon and I nodded and banked the fire.

Chapter 6: Therinsford, Thunder Roar and Lightning Crackle

Notes:

Conversations with just " " are people speaking out loud. Conversations with ' ' and italicized are written conversations. Conversations that are both bold and italicized are mental conversations. With this out of the way I hope you enjoy the story.

Picture from Pinterest

Dawn was gray and overcast with a cutting wind. The forest was quiet. After a light breakfast, Brom and Eragon doused the fire and shouldered their packs, preparing to leave. I shouldered my pack and helped Midnight and Saphira put the saddles on since we wouldn't be able to carry them ourselves without horses. Eragon and I hung our bows and quivers on the side of our packs where we could easily reach them, even though I'm a terrible shot it's better than nothing. Eragon carefully tied Zar'roc onto Saphira's back, too, as he did not want the extra weight; I kept my mothers sword on me figuring I would have a better chance with it than I would the bow. I would have tied the bow to Midnight but I didn't want to make her carry it. Eragon must have felt safe inside the bramble, but outside, wariness crept into his movements. Saphira and Midnight took off and circled overhead. The trees thinned as they returned to the farm. Eragon looked at the ruined buildings and I placed my hand on his shoulder. He gave a small not all there smile and threw back his shoulders, he faced south and the strange, barbaric lands that lay there. As we walked, Saphira and Midnight veered west toward the mountains and out of sight. Eragon seemed to feel uncomfortable as he watched them go, but I knew it wouldn't take them long to get back and that they wouldn't stay gone long. Even now, with no one around, we could not spend our days together. They had to stay hidden in case we met a fellow traveler. The Ra'zac's footprints were faint on the eroding snow, but Eragon was unconcerned and neither was I. It was unlikely that they had forsaken the road, which was the easiest way out of the valley, for the wilderness. Once outside the valley, however, the road divided in several places. It would be difficult to ascertain which branch the Ra'zac had taken. We traveled in silence, concentrating on speed. Eragon's legs continued to bleed where the scabs had cracked and we needed to save what herbs we had until we got to the first town we stopped at.

Eragon asked, "So what exactly can dragons do? You said that you knew something of their abilities."

Brom laughed, his sapphire ring flashing in the air as he gestured. "Unfortunately, it's a pitiful amount compared to what I would like to know. Your question is one people have been trying to answer for centuries, so understand that what I tell you both is by its very nature incomplete. Dragons have always been mysterious, though maybe not on purpose."

"Before I can truely answer your question, you both need a basic education on the subject of dragons. It's hopelessly confusing to start in the middle of such a complex topic without understanding the foundation on which it stands. I'll begin with the life cycle of dragons, and if that doesn't wear you out, we can continue to another topic." I nodded and smiled, knowing Brom was referring to Eragon basically never running out of questions.

Brom explained how dragons mate and what it took for their eggs to hatch. "You see," he said, " when a dragon lays an egg, the infant inside is ready to hatch. But it waits, sometimes for years, for the right circumstances. When dragons lived in the wild, those circumstances were usually dictated by the availability of food. However, once they formed an alliance with the elves, a certain number of their eggs, usually no more than one or two, were given to the Riders each year. These egg, or rather the infants inside, wouldn't hatch until the person destined to be its Rider came into their presence--though how they sensed that isn't known. People used to line up to touch the eggs, hoping that one of them might be picked."

"Do you mean that Saphira might not have hatched for me?" asked Eragon. I nodded my head in agreement to Eragon's words and looked with a perplexed expression at Brom.

"Quite possibly, if she hadn't liked you."

I couldn't help the honored feeling welling up inside at being chosen by Midnight and I was sure Eragon felt the same about Saphira.

Brom continued his lecture. He explained what and when dragons ate. A fully grown sedentary dragon could go for months without food, but in mating season they had to eat every week. Some plants could heal their sicknesses, while others would make them ill. There were various ways to care for their claws and clean their scales.

He explained the techniques to use when attacking from a dragon and what to do if you were fighting one, whether on foot, horseback, or with another dragon. Their bellies were armored; their armpits were not. Eragon constantly interrupted to ask questions and I just smiled and shook my head, and Brom seemed pleased by the inquiries as well as understanding at me not asking any. Hours passed unheeded as they talked and I listened. When evening came, we were near Therinsford. As the sky darkened and they searched for a place to camp, Eragon asked, "Who was the Rider that owned Za'roc?"

"A mighty warrior," said Brom, "who was much feared in his time and held great power." I rolled my eyes at the vagueness but accepted the answer.

"What was his name?"

"I'll not say." Eragon protested, but Brom was firm. "I don't want to keep you ignorant, far from it, but certain knowledge would only prove dangerous and distracting for you right now. There isn't any reason for me to trouble you with such things until you have the time and the power to deal with them. I only wish to protect you, both of you; from those who would use you for evil." Eragon glared at him. "You know what? I think you just enjoy speaking in riddles. I've half a mind to leave you so we don't have to be bothered with them. If you're going to say something, then say it instead of dancing around with vague phrases!" I deadpanned at him, did he seriously just say we?.

"Peace. All will be told in time," Brom said gently. Eragon grunted unconvinced. I rolled my eyes at him once again and couldn't wait for us to camp for the night.

We found a comfortable place to spend the night and set up camp. Saphira and Midnight joined us as dinner was being set on the fire and this time Midnight didn't have to be in a smaller size so that we would all fit.

Eragon must have said something amusing because Saphira suddenly snorted, then before long she let out a puff of smoke. Saphira eventually curled up beside Eragon and he leaned against her belly, probably welcoming the warmth as much as I was leaning against Midnight. I was trying to teach her how to read both the Ancient Language as Brom had called it all those years ago and how to read English, she was picking it up much faster than what I had when I first learned and we didn't even have parchment for me to properly teach her how to read English.

Brom sat on the other side of the fire, whittling three long sticks. He suddenly threw one at Eragon and one at me, we both grabbed them out of reflex as it whirled over the crackling flames. I stared at mine in confusion.

"Defend yourself!" barked Brom, standing. I immediately got into a defensive stance that I had seen in moms book and had felt the most natural to me.

Eragon looked at his stick and saw that it was shaped in a crude likeness of a sword. Brom wanted to fight us? By the looks of it Eragon already thought it would be an easy win.

"Do you think he already forgot that Brom was only stunned by the Ra'zac, who he said were stronger than ten men if I remember correctly."

"I think he might have forgotten as well. Be careful and remember to pay attention if Brom gives you any tips to use."

"I know but thank you Midnight."

I saw her nod out of the corner of my eye but payed more attention to the two people in front of me. I had a feeling that Eragon would attack without much planning. Eragon and I rose as Brom circled the fire. We all faced each other as best we could, though Brom seemed to be having an easier time doing so from having more experience; then Brom charged, swinging his stick. I ducked into a roll and pulled up quickly on the other side of both of them while Eragon had tried to block the attack but was too slow. He yelped as Brom struck him on the ribs, and stumbled backward.

"Ouch."

"Indeed little one but pay attention."

I nodded once again and gave both of them my full focus. Without thinking I'm sure, Eragon lunged forward, but Brom easily parried the blow. Eragon whipped the stick toward Brom's head while I aimed for his leg, Eragon twisted his stick at the last moment, and then tried to hit Broms side. The solid smack of wood striking wood resounded through the camp as well as the thump of my stick hitting his leg.

"Ouch! Improvisation and waiting for your opponent to be distracted--good!" exclaimed Brom, eyes gleaming. His arm moved in a blur and then Eragon was smacked in the side of the head while I jumped as far back as I could. Then Eragon collapsed like an empty sack, dazed. I wanted to rush towards him but wasn't sure if Brom wanted to continue until I was on the ground as well or not so I stayed put watching him carefully. Suddenly he lunged for me so I guess that means I got my answer. I barely managed to duck and swipe at his legs again to make him jump back. "Midnight, I know I need the training and practice but can you please make him stop so that I can make sure Eragon is okay?"

"I can." "Will you please do so?"

"I will."

I had to jump back when she brought her tail down in between us as he was getting ready to lunge forward again. He seemed surprised and I used that moment to run to Eragon while Midnight gave Brom a calculating look before laying down again. Once I made sure Eragon was fine and then I turned to see an annoyed but fond smile on Brom's face.

"Could you not have signaled for me to stop instead of having that dragon of yours slam her tail between us?" I gave a sheepish shrug and started to boil some snow in a pan. Once it melted and had cooled, Brom grabbed it and tossed it on Eragon, who then sat up sputtering. There was dried blood on his face, which I was going to originally use the water to clean off but then it got used to wake him up instead. Brom stood over Eragon while I took the pan once again and put more snow in it, so that it could start melting, then I heard those two.

"You didn't have to do that," said Eragon angrily, pushing himself up. He looked dizzy and unsteady. Brom arched an eyebrow. "Oh? A real enemy wouldn't soften his blows, and neither will I. Should I pander to your . . . incompetence so you'll feel better? I don't think so." He picked up the stick that Eragon had dropped and held it out. "Now defend yourself."

Eragon stared blankly at the piece of wood, then shook his head. "Forget it; I've had enough." He turned away and stumbled as he was whacked loudly across the back and I couldn't help but whince for him. Eragon spun around, growling.

"Never turn your back to the enemy!" snapped Brom, then tossed the stick at him and attacked. Eragon retreated around the fire, beneath the onslaught. I tried to help Eragon after taking the melted snow off the fire and grabbing my stick again. "Pull your arms in. Keep your knees bent," shouted Brom. He continued to give instructions, then paused to show us exactly how to execute a certain move. "Do it again, but this time slowly!" We slid through the forms with exaggerated motions before returning to our furious battle. Eragon and I learned quickly, but no matter what we tried, we could not hold Brom off for more than a few blows, because of that I tried to focus on dodging moves that I didn't think I could block or parry. When we finished, Eragon flopped on his blankets and groaned while I slid down beside Midnight and couldn't help but wish that I could groan as well. Everywhere hurt--Brom had not been gentle with his stick. Saphira and Midnight both let out a long, coughing growl and curled their lips until a formidable row of teeth showed. I just sighed and layed my head against Midnights scales enjoying the heat that came off of them. Saphira made the sound again, and Eragon turned red so I assumed he realized that they were laughing. I think Eragon was trying to preserve some dignity as he rolled onto his side and fell asleep. Everything hurt worse the next day. Bruises covered our arms, and I almost felt like I couldn't move. Brom looked up from the mush he was serving and grinned. "How do you feel?" Eragon grunted and bolted down the breakfast, while I glared for a second before eating my breakfast at a slightly slower pace.

Once on the road, we traveled swiftly so as to reach Therinsford before noon. After a league, the road widened and we saw smoke in the distance.  "You'd better tell Saphira and Midnight to fly ahead and wait for us on the other side of Therinsford," said Brom. "They have to be careful here, otherwise people are bound to notice them."

"Why don't you tell them yourself?" challenged Eragon.

"It's considered bad manners to interfere with another's dragon."

"You didn't have a problem with it in Carvahall."

Brom's lips twitched with a smile. "I did what I had to."

Eragon eyed him darkly, then we both relayed the instructions.

"Be careful. We cannot come to help quickly if we are not with you. Be watchful for unfriendly eyes."

"Don't worry Midnight we will."

She gave a nod and then her and Saphira flew away.

As ruts in the road deepend, Eragon noticed more footprints. Farms signaled their approach to Therinsford. The village was larger than Carvahall, but it had been constructed haphazardly, the houses aligned in no particular order.

"What a mess," said Eragon. We couldn't see Dempton's mill. Baldor and Albriech have surely fetched Roran by now, I wondered how everyone reacted to the letter? I hope they don't blame Eragon for what happened. Either way it's probably better if we don't come face to face with Roran or anyone from Carvahall anytime soon.

"It's ugly, if nothing else," agreed Brom and I couldn't help but roll my eyes at them. The town wasn't that bad.

The Anora River flowed between us and the town, spanned by a stout bridge. As we approached it, a greasy man stepped from behind a bush and barred our way. His shirt was too short, and his dirty stomach spilled over a rope belt. Behind his cracked lips, his teeth looked like crumbling tombstones. "You c'n stop right there. This's my bridge. Gotta pay t' get over."

"How much?" asked Brom in a resigned voice. He pulled out a pouch, and the bridgekeeper brightened.

"Five crowns," he said, pulling his lips into a broad smile. Eragon's temper flared at the exorbitant price, and he started to complain hotly, but Brom silenced him with a quick look. The coins were wordlessly handed over. The man put them into a sack hanging from his belt. "Thank'ee much," he said in a mocking tone, and stood out of the way. I went around his other side as Brom stepped forward, he stumbled and caught the bridgekeeper's arm to support himself, I grabbed the pouch and slid it up my sleeve, that way I could return it to Brom and pass some out to some of the children if I see any while we're here.

"Watch y're step," snarled the grimy man, siding away. "Sorry," apologized Brom, and continued over the bridge with Eragon and I.

"Why didn't you haggle? He skinned you alive!" exclaimed Eragon when they were out of earshot. "He probably doesn't even own the bridge. We could have pushed right past him."

"Probably," agreed Brom.

"Then why pay him?"

"Because you can't argue with all of the fools in the world. It's easier to let them have their way, then trick them when they're not paying attention." Brom opened his hand and I put his five crowns in it.

Eragon looked at me incredulously "You stole his money?" Brom pocketed the money with a wink. "And he held a surprising amount judging by the size of the bag. He should know better than to keep all these coins in one place." Then he looked at me in confusion until I pointed to some kids across the way. He nodded and when we passed them I dropped the bag. When they looked at me I winked at them and gestured to the bag and then continued to follow Brom. There was a sudden howl of anguish from the other side of the river. "I'd say our friend has just discovered his loss. If you see any watchmen, tell me." He grabbed the shoulder of a young boy running between the houses and asked, "Do you know where we can buy horses?" The child stared at us with solemn eyes, then pointed to a large barn near the edge of Therinsford. "Thank you," said Brom, tossing him a small coin.
The barn's large double doors were open, revealing two long rows of stalls. The far wall was covered with saddles, harnesses, and other paraphernalia. A man with muscular arms stood at the end, brushing a white stallion. He raised a hand and beckoned for us to come over. I kept my head bowed just enough to keep my scar hidden for a first glance but I really needed to find something to cover it, before the wrong sort of person saw it. As we approached, Brom said, "That's a beautiful animal."
"Yes indeed. His name's Snowfire. Mine's Haberth." Haberth offered a rough palm and shook hands vigorously with Eragon, Brom, and I. There was one of those polite pauses as he waited for our names in return. When we were not forthcoming, he asked, "Can I help you?"
Brom nodded. "We need three horses and a full set of tack for all three. The horses have to be fast and tough; we'll be doing a lot of traveling."
Haberth was thoughtful for a moment. "I don't have many animals like that, and the ones I do aren't cheap." The stallion moved restlessly; he calmed it with a few strokes of his fingers.
"Price is no object. I'll take the best you have," said Brom. Haberth nodded and silently tied the stallion to a stall. He went to the wall and started pulling down saddles and other items. Soon he had three identical piles. Next he walked up the line of stalls and brought out two horses. One was a light bay, the other a roan. The bay tugged against his rope.
"He's a little spirited, but with a firm hand you won't have any problems," said Haberth, handing the bay's rope to Brom.
Brom let the horse smell his hand; it allowed him to rub it's neck.
"We'll take him," he said, then eyed the roan. "The other one however I'm not so sure of."
"There are some good legs on him."
"Mmm . . . What would you take for Snowfire?"
Haberth looked fondly at the stallion. "I'd rather not sell him. He's the finest I've ever bred--I'm hoping to sire a line from him."
"If you were willing to part with him, how much would all of this cost me?" asked Brom.
Eragon tried to put his hand on the bay like Brom had, but it shied away. The horse suddenly calmed and looked at Eragon with liquid brown eyes.
Eragon had his horse and knowing Brom he would get Snowfire someway, somehow; I started looking around for one myself. I finally came across a stall with a mare in it, her fur seemed to almost have a golden star like color to it. I went to get Eragon and Brom's attention, when she suddenly walked up to the stall door trying to sniff my hand. It was weird, first she acted like she didn't want people's attention and now she was trying to sniff my hand.

"Easy there boy, that horse isn't the friendliest since it's first rider died." I looked over at Haberth and nodded in understanding until the horse started nuzzling my hand, almost like she already knew me. Brom was giving her a critical look. I didn't understand why at first. "We'll take her."

"You sure about that? Like I said up until now she hasn't been friendly with anyone since whoever used to ride her died."

"I'm positive." "Alright, if you say so." Then he got her out of the stall and he barely managed to get the rope on her before she started to walk towards me and stopped right in front of me. I tentatively reached out a hand and she placed her head against it.

"According to the person who sold her to me, her name's Stardust."

"Now, as I said earlier how much will it all cost me?"

Haberth used his fingers to add up the price of the purchase.

"Two hundred crowns and no less," he said with a smile, probably thinking that no one would pay that much, sadly this is his first time meeting Brom. Brom silently opened his pouch and counted out the money.

"Will this do?" he asked and I couldn't help but smile and shake my head.

There was a long silence as Haberth glanced between Snowfire and the coins. A sigh, then, "He is yours, though I go against my heart."

"I will treat him as if he had been sired by Gildintor, the greatest steed of legend," said Brom.

"Your words gladden me," answered Haberth, bowing his head slightly. He helped us saddle the horses. Though I honestly thought about riding bareback I knew it was too late to think of that now. When we were ready to leave, he said, "Farewell, then. For the sake of Snowfire, I hope that misfortune does not befall you."

Once that sentence was said I had the strangest image of Brom knocked out on Snowfire, though I just chalked it up to paranoia, at least I did until I remembered what Garrow said about my intuition. Now I'm slightly worried but hoped it would be for nothing.

"Do not fear; I will guard him well," promised Brom as we departed. "Here," he said, handing Snowfire's reins to Eragon, " go to the far side of Therinsford and wait there." I nodded

"Why?" asked Eragon, but Brom had already slipped away. I gave Eragon a smile before starting to walk to where Brom told us to go. I could tell Eragon was still annoyed, we exited Therinsford with the three horses and stationed ourselves beside the road. To the south we saw the hazy outline of Utgard, sitting like a giant monolith at the end of the valley. Its peak pierced the clouds and rose out of sight, towering over the lesser mountains that surrounded it. It's dark, ominous look made my scalp tingle.

Since we were waiting I was curious to find out if I could speak to other animals like I could with Midnight. I reached out with my mind and found contact, it was not as clear or sharp like it was with Midnight but she seemed to still understand what I was doing; which surprised me. Had someone else done this with her? I couldn't tell but after giving her a friendly pat I retracted my mind and continued to wait for Brom.

Brom returned shortly and gestured for us to follow. We walked until Therinsford was hidden by trees. Then Brom said, "The Ra'zac definitely passed this way. Apparently they stopped here to pick up horses, as we did. I was able to find a man who saw them. He described them with many shudders and said that they galloped out of Therinsford like demons fleeing a holy man."

"They left quite an impression." I couldn't help but nod in agreement.

"Quite."

Eragon patted the horses. "When we were in the barn, I touched the bay's mind by accident. I didn't know it was possible to do that."

Brom frowned. "It's unusual for one as young as you to have the ability. Most Rider's had to train for years before they were strong enough to contact anything other than their dragon." I mouthed that I could do it too, which Brom saw me do so and nodded. His face was thoughtful as he inspected Snowfire. Then he said, "Take everything from your pack, put it into the saddlebags, and the pack on top." Eragon and I did so while Brom mounted Snowfire. Eragon seemed to gaze doubtfully at the bay. It was so much smaller than Saphira and Midnight and he seemed to be worried for the smallest moment that it couldn't handle Eragon's weight. I smiled and then swung onto Stardust since I finally had everything from the pack placed into the saddlebags. With a sigh, Eragon awkwardly got into the saddle. We had only riden horses bareback and never for any distance. "Is this going to do the same thing to my legs as riding Saphira?" he asked.

"How do they feel now?"

"Not too bad, but I think any hard riding will open them up again."

"We'll take it easy," promised Brom. He gave Eragon and I a few pointers, then we started off at a gentle pace. Before long the countryside began to change as cultivated fields yielded to wilder land. Brambles and tangled weeds lined the road, along with huge rosebushes that clung to our clothes. Tall rocks slanted out of the ground--gray witnesses to our presence. There was an unfriendly feel in the air, an animosity that resisted intruders.

Above us, growing larger with every step, looked Utgard, its craggy precipice deeply furrowed with snowy canyons. The black rock of the mountain absorbed light like a sponge and dimmed the surrounding area. Between Utgard and the line of mountains that formed the east side of Palancar Valley was a deep cleft. It was the only practical way out of the valley. The road led toward it.

The horse's hooves cracked sharply over gravel and I reminded myself to keep my eyes on Eragon or Brom and not down, and the road dwindled to a skinny trail as it skirted the base of Utgard. Eragon glanced up at the peak looking over us and I followed his gaze, I was most certainly startled to see a steepled tower perched upon it. The turret was crumbling and in disrepair, but it was still a stern sentinel over the valley. "What is that?" Eragon asked, pointing.

Brom did not look up, but said sadly and with bitterness, "An outpost of the Riders--one that has lasted since their founding. That was where Vrael took refuge, and where, through treachery, he was found and defeated by Galbatorix. When Vrael fell, this area was tainted. Edoc'sil, 'Unconquerable,' was the name of this bastion, for the mountain is so steep none may reach the top unless they can fly. After Vrael's death the commoners called it Utgard, but it has another name, Ristvak'baen--the 'Place of Sorrow.' It was known as such to the last Riders before they were killed by the king."

Eragon and I stared with awe. Here was a tangible remnant of the Riders' glory, tarnished though it was by the relentless pull of time. I think it finally struck me and Eragon then just how old the Riders were. A legacy of tradition and heroism that stretched back to antiquity had fallen upon Eragon and I. To think my mother would have been over a hundred when she had me.

We traveled for long hours around Utgard. It formed a solid wall to our right as we entered the breach that divided the mountain range. Eragon stood in his stirrups; I guess he was impatient to see what lay outside of Palancar, but it was still too far away. I wanted to see as well but even more so I couldn't help but look back at the way we had come and worry for those back home. I hope Roran is alright and I hope that we didn't leave the villagers to deal with more trouble. For a while we were in a sloped pass, winding over hill and gully, following the Anora River. Then, with the sun low behind our backs, we mounted a rise and saw over the trees.

My mouth dropped open in shock while I heard Eragon gasp. On either side were mountains, but below us stretched a huge plain that extended to the distant horizon and fused into the sky. The plain was a uniform tan, like the color of dead grass. Long, wispy clouds swept by overhead, shaped by the fierce winds. I now understood why Brom had been so insistent on horses. It would have taken us weeks or months to cover that vast distance on foot. Far above I could see Saphira and Midnight circling, high enough to be mistaken for a bird.

"We'll wait until tomorrow to make the descent," said Brom. "It's going to take most of the day, so we should camp now."

I nodded. "How far across is the plain?" Eragon asked, still amazed.

"Two or three days to over a fortnight, depending on which direction we go. Aside from the nomad tribes that roam this section of the plains, It's almost as uninhabited as the Hadarac Desert to the east. So we aren't going to find many villages. However, to the south the plains are less arid and more heavily populated."

We left the trail and dismounted by the Anora River. As we unsaddled the horses, Brom gestured at the bay. "You should name him." At those words I finally realized that out of the horses, Stardust was the only girl horse.

Eragon seemed to consider it as he picketed the bay. "Well, I don't have anything as noble as Snowfire or Stardust, but maybe this will do." He placed his hand on the bay and said, "I name you Cadoc. It was my grandfather's name, so bear it well." Brom and I nodded in approval, but Eragon felt slightly foolish. I playfully nudged his arm so he would stop feeling that way.

When Saphira and Midnight landed I asked Midnight about the plains.

"Saphira and I agree that they look dull. There's nothing but rabbits and scrub in every direction."

I nodded in understanding.

After dinner, Brom stood and barked, "Catch!" Eragon barely had time to raise his arm and grab the piece of wood before it hit him on the head, I managed to grab mine without flinching. Eragon groaned as he saw another makeshift sword.

"Not again," he complained. Me and Brom smiled while Brom beckoned with one hand. Eragon and I reluctantly got to our feet, though it hurt I actually found it kind of fun. We whirled around in a flurry of smacking wood, and he backed away with a stinging arm. The training session was shorter than the first, but it was still long enough for me and Eragon to amass a new collection of bruises. When we finished sparring, Eragon threw down the stick in disgust and stalked away from the fire to nurse his injuries. I dropped the stick and slid down Midnights side, trying to regain my breath. I didn't even unroll the bed roll before I was asleep and feeling Midnight put her wing over me.

Once morning came I went to get up and help with breakfast before just sliding back down Midnights side from the soreness of all the bruises, I was painfully reminded of when I first started learning blacksmithing. I sucked in a breath and using one of her spikes hauled myself up as quickly as possible; hissing through my teeth as I did so.

"Are you alright little one."

"Everything hurts but I'll be fine."

"If it amuses you, I could always knock him off his feet?"

"Please don't do that. I don't want to make him mad at us.Especially since he's doing what he can to help us."

"Very well little one. I will leave the old one alone."

"Thank you Midnight."

"You are welcome little one."

When we were ready to leave, I mounted Stardust while Eragon mounted Cadoc and he said avidly, "If this keeps up, you're going to batter us to pieces."

"I wouldn't push you both so hard if I didn't think you were strong enough."

"For once, I wouldn't mind being thought less of," muttered Eragon. Being someone who's usually over looked, accidentally or not I tried real hard not to glare at Eragon. At least he didn't have to whistle or throw something at people to gain their attention when they refuse to look at you.

Cadoc pranced nervously as Saphira and Midnight approached.

"We are going to fly above you all for now."

I nodded at her and told her to be careful and to not go to high in case they need to get to the ground quickly. She nodded in return and then they both took off into the air; then we started our descent. In many places the trail all but disappeared, leaving us to find our own way down; usually even I can find some sort of trail but this was proving difficult even for me. Hunting I may not be great at but tracking and finding trails I am at least pretty decent at. At times we had to dismount and lead the horses on foot, holding on to trees to keep from falling down the slope. The ground was scattered with loose rocks, which made the footing treacherous. The ordeal left us hot and irritable, despite the cold. We stopped to rest when we reached the bottom near midday. The Anora River veered to our left and flowed northward. A biting wind scoured the land, whipping us unmercifully. The soil was parched, and dirt flew into our eyes.

It unnerved me how flat everything was; the plains were unbroken by hummocks or mounds. Eragon and I had lived our entire lives surrounded by mountains and hills. Without them I felt exposed and vulnerable, like a mouse under an eagle's keen eye; I wouldn't be surprised if Eragon was having a similar feeling.

The trail split in three once it reached the plains. The first branch turned north, toward Ceunon, one of the greatest northern cities; the second one led straight across the plains; and the last went south. We examined all three for traces of the Ra'zac and eventually found their tracks, heading directly into the grasslands.

"It seems they've gone to Yazuac," said Brom with a perplexed air.

"Where's that?"

"Due east and four days away, if all goes well. It's a small village situated by the Ninor River." He gestured at the Anora, which streamed away from us to the north. "Our only supply of water is here. We'll have to replenish our waterline before attempting to cross the plains. There isn't another pool or stream between here and Yazuac."

I think the excitement of the hunt was rising within Eragon. I was more worried, I wanted justice for Garrow but both Brom and mother said these creatures worked for the king. A king who with only thirteen other dragon's and riders managed to take out all the dragon riders except for a few apparently. A few who might be dead by now for all we know. I just can't help but worry about what kind of chain reaction we will cause once we actually catch up to them, rather that means we kill them or not.

We filled the waterskins, watered the horses, and drank as much as we could from the river. Saphira and Midnight joined us and took several gulps of water. Fortified, we turned eastward and started across the plains.

The wind seemed to be driving Eragon nuts and I had to fight hard not to smile. We both had chapped lips and I was sure all our tongues were parched, accompanied by burning eyes. The ceaseless gusting followed us throughout the day. Evening only strengthened the wind, instead of subduing it.

Since there was no shelter, we were forced to camp in the open. Eragon found some scrub brush, a short tough plant that thrived on harsh conditions, and pulled it up. He made a careful pile and tried to light it, but the woody stems only smoked and gave off a pungent smell. Frustrated, he tossed the tinderbox to Brom. "I can't make it burn, especially with this blasted wind. See if you can get it going: otherwise dinner will be cold." Thanks for asking if I could help you start a fire Eragon, not like I haven't started one on windy days up in the mountains while we were hunting before or anything. I just deadpanned at both of them while Brom knelt by the brush and looked at it critically. He rearranged a couple of the branches, then struck the tinderbox, sending a cascade of sparks onto the plants. There was smoke, but nothing else. Brom scowled and tried again, but his luck was no better than Eragon's.

"Brisingr!" he swore angrily, striking the flint again. I narrowed my eyes as flames suddenly appeared, and he stepped back with a pleased expression.

"There we go. It must have been smoldering inside."

I had a feeling that it was no where near smoldering but nodded for the time being.

We sparred with mock swords while the food cooked. Fatigue made it hard on all of us, so we kept the session short. After we had eaten, we played next to the dragons and while the other two went to sleep immediately, greatful for their shelter. I pulled out mothers book and flipped to the magic page and when I found the word Brom had used I knew I recognized it from the language, but to actually find it in the more basic part of the magic entries surprised me. There were other words but the one that caught my attention was ' thrysta ' thrust; compress. I had no intentions to try it without talking to Brom unless absolutely necessary. I wondered when he would tell us it was a magic language and not just a forgotten language like he originally told me, but that was enough for tonight so I settled down after putting the journal up and went to bed.

The same cold wind greeted us in the morning, sweeping over the dreadful flatness. I asked Midnight to stay small and ride with me on Stardust, I did not trust the wind to stay this way for long and felt that before long it would become to strong for even the dragons, though I did not know if that would occur today or on another day of our travel over the plains. Midnight tried to tell Saphira to stay on the ground but she insisted on flying for the time being. Mine and Eragon's lips had cracked during the night; every time we smiled or he talked, beads of blood covered them; I simply stopped smiling or moving my mouth in general. Eragon didn't seem to at first realize that licking them only made it worse but eventually he stopped. It was the same for Brom on the scabbed lips. We let the horses drink sparingly from our supply of water before mounting them. The day was a monotonous trek of endless plodding.

On the third day, Eragon and I woke well rested. That, coupled with the fact that the wind had stopped, put him in a cherry humor. I was not cherry by the stopped wind, in fact I believed it to be the eye of the storm and tried to convey it to Brom and Eragon, but neither seemed to be understanding what I was trying to tell them; even though Eragon usually had a better time of guessing he couldn't always get it. I ended up asking Midnight to just tell Saphira and leaned back in the saddle to watch the clouds so that I could keep track of any wind currents. Eragon's high spirits were dampened, however, when I pointed out the sky ahead to both him and Brom, where it was dark with thunderheads.

Brom looked at the clouds and grimaced. "Normally I wouldn't go into a storm like that, but we're in for a battering no matter what we do, so we might as well get some distance covered."

It was still calm when we reached the storm front, Midnight was securely tucked into my satchel so that once the elements hit us she wouldn't be blown away in her smaller form. As we entered its shadow, Eragon looked up. The thundercloud had an exotic structure, forming a natural cathedral with a massive arched roof. With some imagination we could see pillars, windows, soaring tiers, and snarling gargoyles. It was a wild beauty.

As Eragon and I lowered our gaze, a giant ripple raced towards us through the grass, flattening it. I placed my satchel and Midnight directly in front of me so that way the wind would only blow her into me. But it seemed to take Eragon a second to realize that the wave was a tremendous blast of wind. Brom saw it too, and we all hunched our shoulders, preparing for the storm. Then I realized that Saphira wasn't coming down.

"Midnight, she needs to land now!"

"I will inform her little one."

Suddenly Eragon yelled "Saphira! Land!" Brom's face grew pale. While mine grew paler from realizing she wouldn't make it to the ground in time. Overhead, we saw her dive toward the ground.

Saphira angled back the way we had come, to gain time. As we watched, the tempest's wrath struck us like a hammer blow and I gripped both the saddle and Midnight so that we wouldn't fall off. Cadoc and Stardust swayed and dug their hooves into the ground, manes snapping in the air. The wind tore at our clothes with invisible fingers while the air darkened with billowing clouds of dust.

Eragon and I squinted, searching for Saphira. We saw her land heavily and then crouch, clenching the ground with her talons. The wind reached her just as she started to fold her wings. With an angry yank, it unfurled them and dragged her into the air. For a minute she hung there, suspended by the storm's force. Then it slammed her down on her back.

With a savage wrench, Eragon yanked Cadoc around and galloped back up the trail, goading the horse with his heels and most likely his mind. I quickly followed in case they needed extra help. As we neared Saphira, Cadoc balked, so Eragon leapt down and ran toward her while I grabbed his reins. Eragon's bow banged against his head. A strong gust pushed him off balance and he flew forward, landing on his chest. He skidded, then got back up with what looked like a snarl, and more than likely ignoring the deep scrapes in his skin.

Saphira was only three yards away, but he could get no closer because of her flailing wings. She struggled to fold them against the overpowering gale. He rushed at her right wing, more than likely intending to hold it down, but the wind caught her and she somersaulted overy him. The spines on her back missed his head by inches. Saphira clawed at the ground, trying to stay down.

Her wings began to lift again, but before they could flip her, Eragon threw himself at the left one. The wing crumpled in at the joints and Saphira tucked it firmly against her body. Eragon vaulted over her back and tumbled onto the other wing. Without warning it was blown upward, sending him sliding to the ground. He broke his fall with a roll, then jumped up and grabbed the wing again. I tried to remember to breathe since apparently this whole time I hadn't been doing so and Midnight had to remind me to do it. Saphira started to fold it, and he pushed with all of his strength. The wind battled with them for a second, but with one last surge they overcame it.

Eragon leaned against Saphira, he seemed to be panting. Soon he looked towards us and Saphira started to creep up the road, fighting the gale while Eragon clung to her back and kept his head down; I started to lead Cadoc ahead of them until we reached Brom.

When we did reach him, he shouted over the storm, "Is she hurt?"

Eragon shook his head and dismounted. Once I released him, Cadoc trotted over to Eragon, nickering. As he stroked the horse's long cheek, Brom pointed at a dark curtain of rain sweeping toward us in rippling gray sheets. "What else?" cried Eragon, pulling his clothes tighter. I did the same but gave him a look that said you really don't want to ask that question. We both winced as the torrent reached us. The stinging rain was cold as ice; before long we were drenched and shivering, even I was feeling the effects of the cold.

Lightning lanced through the sky, flickering in and out of existence. Mile-high blue bolts streamed across the horizon, followed by peaks of thunder that shook the ground below, while I tried not to flinch at every clap of thunder. It was beautiful, but dangerously so. Here and there, grass fires were ignited by strikes, only to be extinguished by the rain.

The wild elements were slow to abate, but as the day passed, they wandered elsewhere. Once again the sky was revealed, and the setting sun glowed with brilliance. As beams of light tinted the clouds with blazing colors, everything gained a sharp contrast: brightly lit on one side, deeply shadowed on the other. Objects had a unique sense of mass; grass stalks seemed sturdy as marble pillars. Ordinary things took on an unearthly beauty; Eragon and I felt as if we were sitting inside a painting.

The rejuvenated earth smelled fresh, clearing our minds and raising spirits. Midnight even flew out of the satchel and landed by Saphira. They both stretched, craning their necks, and roaring happily. The horses shuttered away from them, but Eragon, Brom, and I smiled at their exuberance. Before the light faded, we stopped for the night in a shallow depression. Too exhausted to spar, we went straight to sleep.

Chapter 7: Revelation at Yazuac and Learning Magic

Notes:

Conversations with just " " are people speaking out loud. Conversations with ' ' and italicized are written conversations. Conversations that are both bold and italicized are mental conversations. With this out of the way I hope you enjoy the story.

Picture found on Pinterest

Although we had managed to partially refill the waterskins during the storm, we drank the last of our water that morning. "I hope we're going in the right direction," said Eragon, crunching up the empty water bag, "because we'll be in trouble if we don't reach Yazuac today."

Brom did not seem disturbed so I decided to follow his lead for the time being. "I've traveled this way before. Yazuac will be in sight before dusk."

Eragon laughed doubtfully and I rolled my eyes at him. "Perhaps you see something I don't. How can you know that when everything looks exactly the same for leagues around?"

"Because I am guided not by the land, but by the stars and sun. They will not lead us astray. Come! Let us be off. It is foolish to conjure up woe where none exists. Yazuac will be there."

His words proved true as I figured they would. Saphira spotted the village first, but it was not until later in the day that the rest of us saw it as a dark bump on the horizon. Yazuac was still very far away; it was only visible because of the plain's uniform flatness. As we rode closer, a dark winding line appeared on either side of the town and disappeared in the distance.

"The Ninor River," said Brom, pointing at it.

Eragon and I pulled our horses to a stop. "Saphira and Midnight will be seen if they stay with us much longer. Should they hide while we go into Yazuac?"

Brom scratched his chin and looked at the town. "See that bend in the river? Have them wait there. It's far enough from Yazuac so no one should find them, but close enough that they won't be left behind. We'll go through the town, get what we need, and then meet them."

We explained the plan to them but neither liked it. They both grumbled but gave in and flew away low to the ground.

We kept a swift pace in anticipation of the food and drink we would soon enjoy. As we approached the small houses, we could see smoke from a dozen chimneys, but there was no one in the streets. An abnormal silence enveloped the village. By unspoken consent we stopped before the first house. The same bad feeling as the day the house was attacked suddenly seized me. Eragon abruptly said, "There aren't any dogs barking."

"No."

"Doesn't mean anything though."

". . . No."

I tugged on Eragon's arm and held up five fingers and then slid a finger across my neck.

"He's right. There aren't any families around." Eragon paused. "Someone should have seen us by now."

After a quick look from both of them Brom answered. "Yes."

"Then why hasn't anyone come out?"

Brom squinted at the sun. "Could be afraid."

"Could be," said Eragon. He was quiet for a moment. "And if it's a trap? The Ra'zac might be waiting for us."

"We need provisions and water."

"There's the Ninor."

"Still need provisions."

"True." Eragon looked around. "So we go in?"

Brom flicked his reins. "Yes, but not like fools. This is the main entrance to Yazuac. If there's an ambush, it'll be along here. No one will expect us to arrive from a different direction."

"Around to the side, then?" asked Eragon. Brom nodded and pulled out his sword, resting the bare blade across his saddle, while I shook my head. I could tell trouble would only follow by going in there but neither seemed to noticed so I glared at both of them and pulled out my mothers sword from it's sheath. Eragon strung his bow and knocked an arrow. We trotted quietly around the town and entered it cautiously. The streets were empty, except for a small fox that darted away as we came near. I did not like its appearance, a fox would not be here during the daylight when this was a human town. The houses were dark and foreboding, with shattered windows, causing the uneasiness to heighten. Many of the doors swung on broken hinges. The horses rolled their eyes nervously. My palm tingle and I had a feeling that Eragon's was too since he seemed to be struggling not to scratch it. As we rode into the center of town, I gripped mom's sword tighter while Eragon did the same to his bow, Eragon blanching and me struggling not to throw up on Stardust. "Gods above," he whispered.

A mountain of bodies rose above us, the corpses stiff and grimacing. Their clothes were soaked in blood, and the churned ground was stained with it. Slaughtered men lay over the women they had tried to protect, mothers still clasped their children, and lovers who had tried to shield each other rested in death's cold embrace. Black arrows stuck out of them all. Neither young nor old had been spared. But worst of all was the barbed spear that rose out of the peak of the pile, impaling the white body of a baby. At the sight of it I could no longer hold back the bile and barely managed to throw up over the side of Stardust instead of on her. Brom patted my back while tears filled mine and Eragon's vision and it looked like he tried to look away, but the dead faces held our attention. I had a strong feeling that what did this was still here but I didn't get a chance to gain their attention to inform them of this when a crow dipped out of the sky, like a black shadow, and perched on the spear. It cocked its head and greedily scrutinized the infant's corpse while my eyes widen in horror at what it was about to do.

"Oh no you don't," snarled Eragon as he pulled back the bowstring and released it with a twang. With a puff of feathers, the crow fell over backward, the arrow protruding from its chest. Eragon fit another arrow to the string, but then he threw up over Cadoc's side. Brom patted him on the back like he had done for me. When Eragon was done, Brom asked gently, "Do you two want to wait for me outside Yazuac?"

I shook my head no while Eragon replied shakily, wiping his mouth. "No . . . I'll stay." We avoided looking at the gruesome sight before us. "Who could have done . . ." He could not force out the words.

Brom bowed his head. "Those who love the pain and suffering of others. They wear many faces and go by many disguises, but there is only one name for them: evil. There is no understanding it. All we can do is pity and honor the victims."

He dismounted Snowfire and walked around, inspecting the trampled ground carefully. "The Ra'zac passed this way," he said slowly, "but this wasn't their doing. This is Urgal work; the spear is of their make. A company of them came through here, perhaps as many as a hundred. It's odd; I know of only a few instances when they have gathered in such. . ." He knelt and examined a footprint intently. With a curse he ran back to Snowfire and leapt onto him.

"Ride!" he hissed tightly, spurring Snowfire forward. "There are still Urgals here!" Eragon jammed his heels into Cadoc while I urged Stardust into a gallop. The horses jumped forward and raced after Snowfire. We dashed past the houses and were almost to the edge of Yazuac when my palm tingled and I had the sense of danger hit me hard. Literally a giant fist came out of nowhere and smashed into Eragon knocking him out of the saddle and into me, where we both crashed into a wall, I barely managed not to drop the sword while Eragon seemed to still have his bow. We were both gasping and stunned, Eragon staggered upright, hugging his side. I went to try to stand myself when pain flared up in my ankle and I only managed to stay standing by using the wall we had crashed into. An Urgal stood over us, face set in a gross leer. The monster was tall, thick, and broader than a doorway, with gray skin and yellow piggish eyes. Muscles bulged on his arms and chest, which was covered by a too small breastplate. An iron cap rested over the pair of ram's horns curling from his temple, and a roundshield was bound to one arm. His powerful hand held a short, wicked sword.

Behind him, Eragon and I saw Brom rein in Snowfire and start back, only to be stopped by the appearance of a second Urgal, this one with an ax. "Run, you fools!" Brom cried to us, cleaving at his enemy. The Urgal in front of us roared and swung his sword mightily. Eragon jerked back into me with a startled yelp as the weapon whistled past his cheek.

"Midnight! You and Saphira need to get here quick!"

I hoped she heard and I knew this would hurt like crazy but we needed to run. We both spun around and fled toward the center of Yazuac, hearts pounding wildly. The Urgal pursued us, heavy boots thudding. Eragon forced himself to go even faster and I tried to do the same but the pain flared worse than before and my knees buckled. Eragon skidded to a halt and went to grab and pull me up. With the Urgal almost upon us, Eragon strung an arrow instead, spun around, took aim, and released. The Urgal snapped up his arm and caught the quivering bolt on his shield. The monster collided with us before Eragon could shoot again, and they fell to the ground on top of me in a confused tangle. Eragon sprang to his feet and rushed back to Brom while dragging me behind him, Brom was trading fierce blows with his opponent from Snowfire's back. I wondered where the other Urgal's were but was still glad that we only had to deal with two. There was a loud smack, and Snowfire reared, whinnying. Brom doubled over in his saddle, blood streaming down his arm. The Urgal beside him howled in triumph and raised his ax for the death blow.

"Thrysta!"

The Urgal flew back into a house and my vision started to blur. The last thing I heard was a deafening scream tear out of Eragon.

When I woke up it was to Eragon looking over me. I went to sit up and winced at the jostling in my ankle, while Eragon looked relieved to see I was alright. Then Eragon went over to Brom where there was a long, blood-soaked cut on the old man's right arm. The wound bled profusely, but it was neither deep nor wide. Still it would need to be bound before Brom lost too much blood. Eragon stroked Snowfire for a moment, then slid Brom out of the saddle. I carefully made my way over to Stardust and grabbed some herbs and bandages that we would need. I turned around quickly when I heard a thud and saw Brom on the ground and a surprised Eragon. I'm not sure what happened after I'd past out but it looked like I wasn't the only exhausted one. Saphira and Midnight dived out of the sky and landed fiercely in front of us, keeping their wings half raised. They hissed angrily, eyes burning. Saphira's tail lashed, and Eragon and I winced as it snapped overhead.

"Little one are you alright? Why do you favor your right ankle?"

"Eragon and I were knocked off our horses by an Urgal and when we fell I think my ankle either twisted or broke."

"Then sit down and let Eragon take care of the Old man."

I didn't have the energy to argue so I handed the supplies to Eragon and sank down to the ground.

"No," Eragon seemed to reassure Saphira as he laid Brom on his back.

Saphira growled as I lent against Midnight. I think Saphira wanted to kill the Urgals but if Eragon was here than they must be dead already.

Eragon wearily pointed in the direction to an alley. "It'll do no good; they're already dead."

Saphira seemed surprised while Eragon nodded. "Somehow. Though it wasn't without help in a way I think." With a few terse words,  I think he told her what happened while he rolled back Brom's sleeve. He grunted at something that I assume Saphira had said and with a few deft strokes he cleaned the cut, applied the herbs and bandaged it tightly before coming over to me and helping me bandage my ankle. Eragon suddenly put Saphira's and Midnights saddles on them. With help from Midnight, Eragon was able to put Brom on Saphira. Then Eragon slipped Brom's legs through the saddle's straps and tightened them. We both looked up when the old man moaned and shifted.

Brom blinked blearily, putting a hand to his head. He gazed down at us with concern. "Did Saphira and Midnight get here in time?"

Eragon shook his head. "I'll explain it later. Your arm is injured. I bandaged it as best I could, but Lyalle's better at that than me and with his ankle hurt I had to do it, but you both need a safe place to rest."

"Yes," said Brom, gingerly touching his arm. "Do you know where my sword. . . Ah, I see you have both mine and Lyalle's sword." I looked at the swords and was surprised to realize that Brom was right, and to think I hadn't even realized it wasn't in my hand anymore.

Eragon finished tightening the straps and came over to help me get on Midnight and before I could even reach down to tightened the straps, Eragon was almost finished with it. I smiled at him in thanks and he gave me both a relieved smile and worried one. Before I could make a questioning gesture he had turned back to Brom. "Saphira's going to take you, while Midnight takes Lyalle and both of them will follow me by air."

"Are you sure you want me to ride her?" asked Brom. "I can ride Snowfire."

"Not with that arm. This way, even if you faint, you won't fall off. Also Midnight won't jostle Lyalle's ankle as badly."

Brom nodded. "I'm honored., He wrapped his good arm around Saphira's neck, and she took off in a flurry, springing high into the sky. Eragon backed away while I covered my face for a few seconds, both of us buffeted by the eddies from her wings, and Eragon returned to the horses.

"I will be gentle little one and fly low to the ground."

"Thank you Midnight. But how did you know what I was going to ask?"

I heard her chuckle.

"Have you forgottened already how we are bonded?"

"No."  I could feel my face get red as she chuckled again and took off after Saphira.

We followed Eragon from above, he returned to the trail and followed it southward. It led through a rocky area, veered left, and continued along the bank of the Ninor River. Soon Midnight left Eragon's side and caught up to Saphira and Brom. Just as the light was fading Saphira led us to a secluded clearing in the trees by the river.

Once there, Brom made a small smokeless fire and sat next to it, tending to his arm, which he was holding at an awkward angle. "As soon as I have my arm handled I'll help wrap up your ankle." I gave a nod and a small huff and unstrapped my legs so that I could jump down from Midnights back. Sometimes I wonder if the old man remembers that I learned under Gertrude for some time. I got ready to jump down off of Midnight. Sadly it wasn't until I had let go of her that I remembered why I was riding her in the first place. When my feet hit the ground a pained gasp left my lips and out of instinct I went to grab at my ankle before stopping myself and grabbing above it so that I wouldn't make it worse than what I probably just stupidly did. I had three sets of concerned eyes on me and a dragon on either side helping me get to the fire.

"Are you alright boy?"

I nodded and mouthed towards him "Not one of my smartest moves."

Midnight rubbed her nose against me as I started to tend to Brom's arm. Right when I was starting to finish wrapping the bandage around Brom's arm, Eragon rode into the clearing with the horses. After a few minutes in which I assume Saphira was talking to Eragon, he looked at us "How are you two?"

I gave a thumbs up, The old man glanced at his arm. "It's a large scratch and hurts terribly, but it should heal quickly enough. I needed a fresh bandage; this one didn't last as long as I'd hoped." Brom got up and helped rewrap up my ankle.

Brom said, "I must eat, and you both look hungry as well. Let's have dinner first, then talk."

When our bellies were full and warm, Brom lit his pipe. "Now, I think it's time for you to tell me what transpired while I was unconscious. I am most curious." His face reflected the flickering firefight, and his bushy eyebrows stuck out fiercely. I had a feeling that this would not remain pleasant for very long and leaned against Midnight who rapped her tail around us slightly.

Eragon nervously clasped his hands and told us what happened. Including from when I sent the Urgal flying away from Brom and how Eragon apparently used th word for fire in the ancient language and shot a flaming ( apparently explosive as well) arrow at the Urgals; killing them and then coming back to check on Brom and I. When Eragon finished, Brom looked down at the ground. For a long time the only sound was the snapping fire. Brom finally stirred. "Have you used this power before?"

I shook my head no. "No. Do you know anything about it?"

"A little." Brom's face was thoughtful. "It seems I owe you boys a debt for saving my life. I hope I can return the favor someday. You should be proud; few escape unscathed from slaying their first Urgal. But the manner in which you did it was very dangerous. You both could have destroyed yourselves and the whole town."

Midnight gave a low growl at Brom when I tried to shrink into her scale at his words.

"It wasn't as if we had a choice," said Eragon defensively. "The Urgals were almost upon me. If I had waited they would have chopped me into pieces! Also if it weren't for Lyalle you wouldn't be sitting here either!"

Brom stamped his teeth vigorously on the pipe stem. "You both didn't have any idea what you were doing."

"Then tell us," challenged Eragon. "I've been searching for answers to this mystery, but I can't make sense of it, and even if Lyalle has made sense of it I doubt it's easy for him to inform me of what it is. What happened? How could we have possibly used magic? No one has ever instructed us in it or taught us spells."

Brom's eyes flashed. "This isn't something you should be taught--much less use!"

"Well, I have used it, and we both may need it to fight again. But we won't be able to if you don't help us. What's wrong? Is there some secret we're not supposed to learn until we're old and wise? Or maybe you don't know anything about magic!"

"Boy!" roared Brom. "You demand answers with an insolence rarely seen. If you knew what you asked for, you would not be so quick to inquire. Do not try me." He paused, and then relaxed into a kinder countenance when him and Eragon noticed both Dragon's giving off low growls and Midnights tail curled protectively around me and her. I may or may not have been trying to disappear into her scales like a child would a blanket during a thunderstorm. It may seem childish but I've never been a fan of yelling or sudden loud noises or even heights. In fact I'm pretty sure the reason I didn't panic while flying today was because of focusing too much on not moving my ankle.

Brom finally continued. "The knowledge you ask for is more complex than you understand."

Eragon rose hotly in protest though in a much quieter voice than before. "I feel as though we've been thrust into a world with strange rules that no one will explain."

"I understand," said Brom. He fiddled with a piece of grass. "It's late and we should sleep, but I will tell you both a few things now, to stop your badgering. This magic--for it is magic--has rules like the rest of the world. If you break the rules, the penalty is death, without exception. Your deeds are limited by your own strength, the words you know, and your imagination."

"What do you mean by words?" asked Eragon.

"More questions!" cried Brom and I tried not to flinch knowing that it was just exasperation this time. "For a moment I had hoped you were empty of them. But you are quite right in asking. When you shot the Urgals, didn't you say something?"

"Yes, brisingr; but Lyalle didn't say anything? Um sorry about how that sounded." The fire had flared at the ancient word Eragon had said while I shrugged not disagreeing.

"I thought so. Brisingr is from an ancient language that all living things used to speak. However, it was forgotten over time and went unspoken for eons in Alagaesia, until the elves brought it back over the sea. They taught it to the other races, who used it for making and doing powerful things. The language has a name for everything, if you can find it."

"But what does that have to do with magic?" interrupted Eragon.

"Everything! It is the basis for all power. The language describes the true nature of things, not the superficial aspects that everyone sees. For example' fire is called brisingr. Not only is that a name for fire, it is the name for fire. If you are strong enough, you can use brisingr to direct fire to do whatever you will. And that is what happened today."

Eragon thought about it for a moment. "Why was the fire blue? How come it did exactly what I wanted, if all I said was fire?"

"The color varies from person to person. It depends on who says the word. As to why the fire did what you wanted, that's a matter of practice. Most beginners have to spell out exactly what they want to happen. As they gain more experience, it isn't as necessary. A true master could just say water and create something totally unrelated, like a gemstone. You wouldn't be able to understand how he had done it, but the master would have seen the connection between water and the gem and would have used that as the focal point for his power. The practice is more of an art than anything else. What you both did was extremely difficult."

"Saphira and I just realized something. You can use this magic, can't you? That's how you started the fire our first day on the plains."

Brom inclined his head slightly while I had my eyes on him to see if he would admit it or not, especially since I had noticed that the first night. "I am proficient to some degree."

"Then why didn't you fight the Urgals with it? In fact, I can think of many times it would have been useful--you could have shielded us from the storm and kept the dirt out of our eyes."

After refilling his pipe, Brom said, " Some simple reasons, really. I am not a Rider, which means that, even at your weakest moment, you both are stronger than I. And I have outlived my youth; I'm not as strong as I used to be. Every time I reach for magic, it gets a little harder."

Eragon dropped his eyes, abashed. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," said Brom as he shifted his arm. "It happens to everyone."

"Where did you learn to use magic?"

"That is one fact I'll keep to myself. . . . Suffice it to say, it was in a remote area and from a very good teacher. I can, at the very least, pass on his lessons." Brom snuffed his pipe with a small rock. "I know that you have more questions, and I will answer them, but they must wait until morning."

He leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "Until then, I will say this to discourage any experiments: magic takes just as much energy as if you used your arms and back. That is why you felt tired after destroying the Urgals. And that is why I was angry. It was a dreadful risk on both your parts. If the magic had used more energy than was in your body, it would have killed you. You should use magic only for tasks that can't be accomplished the mundane way."

"How do you know if a spell will use all your energy?" asked Eragon, frightened and I was scared myself.

Brom raised his hands. "Most of the time you don't. That's why magicians have to know their limits well, and even then they are cautious. Once you commit to a task and release the magic, you can't pull it back, even if it's going to kill you. I mean this as a warning: don't try anything until you've learned more. Now, enough of this for tonight." As we spread out our blankets, Midnight curled up against me and we both fell asleep.

---

 

"Why do you think those two Urgals were still in Yazuac?" asked Eragon, after we had been on the trail for a while. "There doesn't seem to be any reason for them to have stayed behind."

"I suspect they deserted the main group to loot the town. What makes it odd is that, as far as I know, Urgals have gathered in force only two or three times in history. It's unsettling that they are doing it now."

"Do you think the Ra'zac caused the attack?"

I looked at Brom to hear his answer. "I don't know. The best thing we can do is continue away from Yazuac at the fastest pace we can muster. Besides, this is the direction the Ra'zac went: south."

I nodded and Eragon also agreed. "We still need provisions, however. Is there another town nearby?"

Brom shook his head. "No, but Saphira or Midnight can hunt for us if we must survive on meat alone. This swath of trees may look small to you, but there are plenty of animals in it. The river is the only source of water for many miles around, so most of the plains animals come here to drink. We won't starve."

Eragon remained quiet, satisfied with Brom's answer. As we rode, loud birds darted around us, and the river rushed by peacefully. It was a noisy place, full of life and energy. Eragon asked, "How did that Urgal get you? Things were happening so fast, I didn't see."

"Bad luck, really," grumbled Brom. "I was more than a match for him, so he kicked Snowfire. The idiot of a horse reared and threw me off balance. That was all the Urgal needed to give me this gash."

He scratched his chin. "I suppose you're still wondering about this magic. The fact that you've discovered it presents a thorny problem. Few know it, but every Rider could use magic, though with differing strengths. They kept the ability secret, even at the height of their power, because it gave them advantage over their enemies. Had everyone known about it, dealing with common people would have been difficult. Many think the king's magical powers come from the fact that he is a wizard or sorcerer. That's not true; it is because he's a Rider."

"What's the difference? Doesn't the fact that I used magic make me a sorcerer or even Lyalle one?"

"Not at all! A sorcerer, like a Shade, uses spirits to accomplish his will. That is totally different from your power. Nor does that make you a magician, whose powers come without the aid of spirits or a dragon. And you're certainly not a witch or wizard, who get their powers from various potions and spells."

"Which brings me back to my original point: the problem you've presented. Young Riders like yourselves were put through a strict regimen designed to strengthen their bodies and increase their mental control. This regimen continued for many months, occasionally years, until the Riders were deemed responsible enough to handle magic. Up until then, not one student was told of his potential powers. If one of them discovered magic by accident, he or she was immediately taken away for private tutoring. It was rare for anyone to discover magic on his own," he inclined his head towards us, "though they were never put under the same pressure you both were."

"Then how were they finally trained to use magic?" asked Eragon and I was curious as well. "I don't see how you could teach it to anyone. If you had tried to explain it to me two days ago, it wouldn't have made any sense."

"The students were presented with a series of pointless exercises designed to frustrate them. For example, they were instructed to move piles of stones using only their feet, fill ever draining tubs full of water, and other impossibilities. After a time, they would get infuriated enough to use magic. Most of the time it succeeded."

"What this means," Brom continued, "Is that you will be disadvantaged if you ever meet an enemy who has received this training. There are still some alive who are that old: the king for one, not to mention the elves and two others who set up the training. Any one of those could tear you apart with ease."

"What can we do, then?"

"There isn't time for formal instructions, but we can do much while we travel," said Brom. "I know many techniques you can practice that will give you two strength and control, but you cannot gain the discipline the Riders had overnight. You," He looked at us humorously, "will have to amass it on the run. It will be hard in the beginning, but the rewards will be great. It may please you both to know that no Rider your ages ever used magic the way you both did yesterday with those two Urgals."

Eragon and I smiled at the praise though I also got red and looked everywhere but those two.

"Thank you. Does this language have a name?"

Brom laughed. "Yes, but only two people know it and they refuse to tell anyone, not even me an old friend. It would be a word of incredible power, something by which you could control the entire language and those who use it. People have longed searched for it, but no one has ever found it."

"I still don't understand how this magic works," said Eragon and even I was still slightly confused. "Exactly how do we use it?"

Brom looked astonished. "I haven't made that clear?"

I shook my head while Eragon responded. "No."

Brom took a deep breath and said, "To work with magic, you must have a certain innate power, which is very rare among people nowadays. You also have to be able to summon this power at will. Once it is called upon, you have to use it or let it fade away. Understood? Now, if you wish to employ the power, you must utter the word or phrase of the ancient language that describes your intent. For example, if you hadn't said brisingr yesterday, nothing would have happened."

"So I'm limited by my knowledge of this language?"

"Exactly ," crowed Brom. "Also, while speaking it, it's impossible to practice deceit."

Eragon shook his head. "That can't be. People always lie. The sounds of the ancient words can't stop them from doing that."

Brom cocked an eyebrow and said, "Fethrblaka, eka weohnata néiat hai na ono. Blaka eom iet lam." A bird suddenly flitted from a branch and landed on his hand. It trilled lightly and looked at us with beady eyes. After a moment he said, "Eitha," and it fluttered away. I wondered why he chose to tell the bird that he would not harm it as a way to prove his point to Eragon.

"How did you do that?" asked Eragon in wonder.

"I promised not to harm him. He may not have known exactly what I meant, but in the language of power, the meaning of my words was evident. The bird trusted me because he knows what all animals do, that those who speak in that tongue are bound by their word."

"And the elves speak this language?"

"Yes."

"So they never lie?"

"Not quite," admitted Brom. "They maintain that they don't and in a way it's true, but they have perfected the art of saying one thing and meaning another. You never know exactly what their intent is, or if you have fathomed it correctly. Many times they only reveal part of the truth and withhold the rest. It takes a refined and subtle mind to deal with their culture."

Eragon considered that. "What do personal names mean in this language? Do they give power over people?"

Brom's eyes brightened with approval. "Yes, they do. Those who speak the language have two names. The first is for everyday use and has little authority. But the second is their true name and is shared with only a few trusted people. There was a time when no one concealed his true name, but this age isn't as kind. Whoever knows your true name gains enormous power over you. It's like putting your life into another person's hands. Everyone has a hidden name, but few know what it is."

"How do you find your true name?" asked Eragon and I looked at Brom as well waiting for an answer.

"Elves instinctively know theirs. No one else has that gift. The human Riders usually went on quests to discover it--or found an elf who would tell them' which was rare, for elves don't distribute that knowledge freely," replied Brom.

"I'd like to know mine," Eragon said wistfully.

Brom's brow darkened. "Be careful. It can be a terrible knowledge. To know who you are without any delusions or sympathy is a moment of revelation that no one experiences unscathed. Some have been driven to madness by that stark reality. Most try to forget it. But as much as the name will give others power, so you may gain power over yourself, if the truth doesn't break you."

"I still wish to know," said Eragon, determined.

"You are not easily dissuaded. That is good, for only the resolute find their identity, but I cannot help with this. It is a search that you will have to undertake on your own." Brom moved his injured arm and grimaced uncomfortably.

"Why can't you or I heal that with magic? Or even heal Lyalle's ankle?" asked Eragon

Brom blinked. "No reason-- I just never considered it because it's beyond my strength. You could probably do it with the right word, but I don't want either of you to exhaust yourselves."

"I could save you both a lot of trouble and pain," protested Eragon. I smiled and patted his shoulder while shaking my head no.

"I'll live with it," said Brom flatly. "Using magic to heal a wound takes just as much energy as it would to mend on its own. I don't want you tired for the next few days. You shouldn't attempt such a difficult task yet."

"Still, if it's possible to fix your arm or Lyalle's ankle, could I bring someone back from the dead?"

The question surprised me and Brom, but he answered quickly, "Remember what I said about projects that will kill you? That is one of them. Riders were forbidden to try to resurrect the dead, for their own safety. There is an abyss beyond life where magic means nothing. If you reach into it, your strength will flee and your soul will fade into darkness. Wizards, sorcerers, and Riders--all have failed and died on that threshold. Stick with what's possible--cuts, bruises, maybe some broken bones--but definitely not dead people."

I nodded but Eragon frowned. "This is a lot more complex than I thought."

"Exactly!" said Brom. "And if you don't understand what you're doing, you'll try something too big and die." He twisted in his saddle and swooped down, grabbing a handful of pebbles from the ground. With effort, he righted himself, then discarded all but two of the rocks. "See these pebbles?"

"Yes." I nodded.

"Take one each." Eragon and I did and we both stared at the unremarkable lump. It was dull black, smooth, and as large as the end of our thumbs. There were countless stones like them on the trail. "This is your training." I nodded and waited for him to elaborate.

Eragon on the other hand looked back at him, confused. "I don't understand."

"Of course you don't," said Brom impatiently. "That's why I'm teaching you two and not the other way around. Now stop talking or we'll never get anywhere. What I want you both to do is lift the rock off your palms and hold it in the air for as long as you can. The words you're going to use are stenr reisa. Say them."

"Stenr reisa." "Stenr reisa."

"Good. Go ahead and try."

Eragon was focusing on his pebble and I was focusing on mine. The stone remained motionless as I stared at it, sweating and slightly frustrated; but I kept a hold of the frustration and buried it down like I usually do with deep and evened breaths. I only vaguely saw and heard what Eragon did while I continued to focus.

Eragon had crossed his arms and snapped, "This is impossible."

"No," said Brom gruffly. "I'll say when it's impossible or not. Fight for it! Don't give in this easily. Try again."

I searched for the power, finding thoughts and memories until I felt something different--a small bump that was a part of me and yet not of me. I grinned and dug into it, seeking what it was. I felt resistance, a barrier in my mind, but I knew that the power lay on the other side and I was not giving it up now. I tried to breach it, but it held firm before my efforts. I grew annoyed and drove into the barrier, ramming against it with all of my might until it shattered like a thin pane of glass, flooding my mind with a river of light.

I gasped slightly but still thought the ancient words.

"Stenr reisa."

The pebble wobbled into the air over my faintly glowing palm. I struggled to keep it floating, but the power slipped away and faded back behind the barrier. The pebble dropped to my hand with a soft plop, and my palm returned to normal. I felt a little tired, but grinned from our success; because I noticed that Eragon had just done the same as I.

"Not bad for your first time," said Brom and I smiled at him, which he returned.

"Why do our hands do that? It's like a little lantern."

"No one's sure," Brom admitted. "The Riders always preferred to channel their power through whichever hand bore the gedwëy ignasia. You can use your other palm, but it isn't as easy." He looked at us for a minute. "I'll buy you both some gloves at the next town since Lyalle's look like they are cutting out circulation for him, if it isn't gutted. You both hide the mark pretty well on your own, but we don't want anyone to see it by accident. Plus we need to find a scarf or a neckerchief of some sort to hide the scar on Lyalle's neck still. Besides, there may be times when you won't want the glow to alert an enemy."

"Do you have a mark of your own?"

"No. Only Riders have them," said Brom. Something felt off about his answer. "Also, you should know that magic is affected by distance, just like an arrow or a spear. If you try to lift or move something a mile away, it'll take more energy than if you were closer. So if you see enemies racing after you from a league away, let them approach before using magic. Now, back to work! Try to lift the pebble again."

"Again?" asked Eragon weakly, probably thinking of the effort it had taken to do it just once.

"Yes! And this time be quicker about it."

We continued with the exercises throughout most of the day. When we finally stopped, me and Eragon were both tired though Eragon was also ill-tempered. In those hours, I think he had come to hate the pebble and everything about it. He started to throw it away, but Brom said, "Don't. Keep it." Eragon glared at him, then reluctantly tucked the stone into a pocket. I put mine in a pocket as well and gave Eragon an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

"We're not done yet," warned Brom, "so don't get comfortable." I smiled knowing this would be a good review opportunity. He pointed at a small plant. "This is called delois." From there on Brom instructed Eragon in the ancient language, giving him words to memorize, from vöndr, a thin, straight stick, to the morning star, Aiedail.

That evening we sparred around the fire. Though Brom fought with his left hand, his skill was undiminished. I favored my ankle but otherwise I continued to spar as well and wasn't doing terrible at it at least. I was lucky that I only had a small sprain. I was also surprised it wasn't worse because of my stupid jump off of Midnights back.

The days followed the same pattern. First, Eragon struggled to learn the ancient words while I used it as a review of what I already knew from when Brom taught me how to read mothers journal, me and Eragon both struggled to manipulate the pebble at first. Then, in the evening, we trained against Brom with the fake swords. Eragon and I were in constant discomfort, but we gradually began to change, almost without noticing. Soon the pebble no longer wobbled when we lifted it. We mastered the first exercises Brom gave us and undertook harder ones, and Eragon's knowledge of the ancient language grew.

In our sparring, Eragon and I both gained confidence and speed, striking like a snake; especially after my ankle felt better. Our blows became heavier, and our arms no longer trembled when we warded off attacks. The clashes lasted longer as we learned how to fend off Brom. Now, when we went to sleep, Eragon and I were not the only ones with bruises. Saphira and Midnight continued to grow as well, but more slowly than before. Their extended flights, along with periodic hunts, kept them fit and healthy. They were much taller than the horses now, and much longer. Midnight even still kept practicing her size changing abilities. Because of Saphira's size and the way her scales sparkled, she was altogether too visible. Brom and Eragon worried about it, but they could not convince her to allow dirt to obscure her scintillating hide.

We continued south, tracking the Ra'zac. It frustrated Eragon that no matter how fast we went, the Ra'zac always stayed a few days ahead of us. At times he was ready to give up, but then we would find some mark or print that would renew his hope.

There were no signs of habitation along the Ninor or in the plains, leaving us five companions undisturbed as the days slipped by. Finally, we neared Daret, the first village since Yazuac. The night before we reached the village, Eragon had a horried and vivid dream. My dream was not horrid but it was extremely vivid.

There was a short looking man or perhaps dwarf as Brom would call them. He had black hair and a couple strands were in braids, he had a sword and an oaken branch that he seemed to be holding like a shield.

"Will you come with me to help me reclaim my home land?"

I found dream me nodding. Then I woke up smacking my head straight into Midnights wing. What would have been me trying to return my breathing to normal ended up being me holding my forehead and a lot more calmly sitting up. Midnight looked at me with both a quizzical and concerned look.

"Are you alright little one?"

"Yes. Did you see the dream as well?"

"I did indeed see it. But do not worry of it for now. Wait until later to speak to Brom about it, perhaps he will know of what is causing this."

"You're right. For now though, do you want to help me make breakfast?"

She gave a toothy smile. "When do we begin?"

I returned her smile at those words, and that's how the others woke up to breakfast.

Chapter 8: Daret and Learning to Fly and a Song for the Road

Notes:

Conversations with just " " are people speaking out loud. Conversations with ' ' and italicized are written conversations. Conversations that are both bold and italicized are mental conversations. With this out of the way I hope you enjoy the story.

Picture is from Pinterest

Daret was on the banks of the Ninor River--as it had to be to survive. The village was small and wild-looking, without any signs of inhabitants. All three of us approached it with great caution. Midnight and Saphira hid close to the town this time; if trouble arose, they would be at our sides within seconds.

We rode into Daret, striving to be silent. Brom and I gripped our swords, Brom with his good hand, his eyes flashing everywhere while I tried to keep an eye on the alley ways. Eragon kept his bow partially drawn as we passed between silent houses, we also kept glancing at each each other with apprehension.

"Be prepared to come help us Midnight. Things are seeming far to quiet around here. Though I don't think we'll be attacked by whoever lives here as long as we do not provoke them."

"Very well little one, but we are still ready to help at a moments notice."

"I know. Thank you Midnight."

"You are welcome little one."

I saw Eragon look down at the ground and did the same to see what had caught his attention. I smiled at the sight of fresh footprints from children.

Brom stiffened as we entered the center of Daret and found it empty. Wind blew through the desolate town, and dust devils swirled sporadically. Brom wheeled Snowfire about. "Let's get out of here. I don't like the feel of this." He spurred Snowfire into a gallop. Eragon followed him, urging Cadoc onward, with me right behind him urging Stardust to catch up alongside Cadoc. We advanced only a few strides before wagons toppled out from behind the houses and blocked our way. Cadoc and Stardust snorted and dug in their hooves, sliding to a stop next to Snowfire. A swarthy man hopped over the wagon and planted himself before us, a broadsword slung at his side and a drawn bow in his hands. Eragon swung his own bow up and pointed it at the stranger, I put my hand on his arm urging him to lower the bow at the same time the stranger commanded, "Halt! Put your weapons down. You're surrounded by sixty archers. They'll shoot if you move." As if on cue, a row of men stood up on the roofs of the surrounding houses.

"Make sure to stay out of sight if you do come. I think the people feel threatened and if we make any sign of aggression it won't go well for us."

"Very well, I will make sure Saphira does not leave until you or Eragon call for us."

"Thank you, Midnight."

"You are welcome little one."

"What do you want?" asked Brom calmly.

"Why have you come here?" demanded the man.

"To buy supplies and hear news. Nothing more. We're on the way to my cousin's house in Dras-Leona."

"You're armed pretty heavily."

"So are you, said Brom. "These are dangerous times."

"True." The man looked at us carefully. "I don't think you mean us ill, but we've had too many encounters with Urgals and bandits for me to trust you only on your word."

"If it doesn't matter what we say, what happens now?" Countered Brom. The men on top of the houses had not moved. By their very stillness, I was not sure if they were highly disciplined...or frightened for their lives. I hoped they were just disciplined, fore I did not fancy becoming a pin-cushion.

"You say that you only want supplies. Would you agree to stay here while we bring what you need, then pay us and leave immediately?"

"Yes."

"All right," said the man, lowering his bow, though he kept it ready. He waved at one of the archers, who slid to the ground and ran over. "Tell him what you want."

Brom recited a short list and then added, "Also, if you have a couple spare pair of gloves that would fit my nephews also perhaps a scarf or neckerchief of some sort, I'd like to buy those too." The archer nodded and ran off.

"The name's Trevor," said the man standing in front of us. "Normally I'd shake your hand, but under the circumstances, I think I'll keep my distance. Tell me, where are you from?"

"North," said Brom, "but we haven't lived in any place long enough to call it home. Have Urgals forced you to take these measures?"

"Yes," said Trevor, "and worse fiends. Do you have any news from other towns? We receive word from them rarely, but there have been reports that they are also beleaguered."

Brom turned grave. "I wish it wasn't our lot to bring you these tidings. Nearly a fortnight ago we passed through Yazuac and found it pillaged. The villagers had been slaughtered and piled together. We would have tried to give them a decent burial, but two Urgals attacked us."

Shocked, Trevor stepped back and looked down with tears in his eyes. "Alas, this is indeed a dark day. Still,  I don't see how two Urgals could have defeated all of Yazuac. The people there were good fighters--some we're my friends."

"There were signs that a band of Urgals had ravaged the town," stated Brom. "I think the ones we encountered we're deserters."

"How large was the company?"

Brom fiddled with his saddlebags for a minute. "large enough to wipe out Yazuac, but small enough to go unnoticed in the countryside. No more than a hundred, and no less than fifty. If I'm not mistaken, either number would prove fatal to you." Trevor wearily agreed. "You should consider leaving," Brom continued. "This area has become far too perilous for anyone to live in peace."

"I know, but the people here refuse to consider moving. This is their home--as well as mine, though I have only been here a couple years--and they place it's worth above their own lives." Trevor looked at him seriously. "We have repulsed individual Urgals, and that has given the townspeople a confidence far beyond their abilities. I fear that we will all wake up one morning with our throats slashed." The Archer hurried out of a house with a pile of goods in his arms. He set them next to the horses, and Brom paid him. As the man left, Brom asked, "Why did they choose you to defend Daret?"

Trevor shrugged. "I was in the king's army for some years."

Brom dug through the items, handed Eragon his pair of gloves, and gave me mine along with a dark blue neckerchief, and then Brom packed the rest of the supplies into our saddlebags. Eragon and I pulled the gloves on after I pulled my old ones off, both of us being careful to keep our palms facing down, then I tied the neckerchief around my neck in a position that it would cover the scar. The leather from the gloves felt good and strong, though it was scarred from use. "Well," said Brom, "as I promised, we will go now."

Trevor nodded. "When you enter Dras-Leona, would you do us this favor? Alert the Empire to our plight and that of the other towns. If word of this hasn't reached the king by now, it's cause for worry. And if it has, but he has chosen to do nothing, that too is cause for worry."

"We will carry your message. May your swords stay sharp," said Brom.

"And yours."

The wagons were pulled out of our way, and we rode from Daret into the trees along the Ninor River. I think Eragon sent his thoughts to Saphira. I sent mine to Midnight to inform her that we were coming but all I received was her thinking something would be humorous.

Brom pulled at his beard. "The Empire is in worse condition than I had imagined. When the traders visited Carvahall, they brought reports of unrest, but I never believed that it was this widespread. With all these Urgals around, it seems that the Empire itself is under attack, yet no troops or soldiers have been sent out. It's as if the king doesn't care to defend his domain."

"It is strange," agreed Eragon and I nodded in agreement as well.

Brom ducked under a low-hanging branch. "Did you use any of your powers while we were in Daret?" I cocked my head to the side confused by what he meant by that.

"There was no reason to."

"Wrong," corrected Brom. "You could have sensed Trevor's intentions. Even with my limited abilities, I was able to do that. If the villagers had been bent on killing us, I wouldn't have just sat there. However, I felt there was a reasonable chance of talking our way out of there, which is what I did."

"How could we know what Trevor was thinking?" asked Eragon.

"Are we supposed to be able to see into people's minds?"

"Come now," chided Brom, "you should know the answer to that. You could have discovered Trevor's purpose in the same way that you communicate with Cadoc or Saphira, or Stardust and Midnight. The minds of men are not so different from a dragon's or horse's. It's a simple thing to do, but it's a power you must use sparingly and with great caution. A person's mind is his last sanctuary. You must never violate it unless circumstances force you to. The Riders had very strict rules regarding this. If they were broken without due cause, the punishment was severe."

"And you can do this even though you aren't a Rider?" asked Eragon.

"As I said before, with the right instruction anyone can talk with their minds, but with differing amounts of success. Whether it's magic, though, is hard to tell. Magical abilities will certainly trigger the talent--or becoming linked with a dragon--but I've known plenty who learned it on their own. Think about it: you can communicate with any sentient being, though the contact may not be very clear. You could spend the entire day listening to a birds thoughts or understanding how an earthworm feels during a rainstorm. But I've never found birds very interesting. I suggest starting with a cat; they have unusual personalities."
Eragon twisted Cadoc's reins in his hands, both of us considering the implications of what Brom had said. "But if we can get into someone's head, doesn't that mean that others can do the same to us? How do we know if someone's prying in our mind? Is there a way to stop that?"
"Why, yes. Hasn't Saphira ever blocked you from her mind?"
"Occasionally," admitted Eragon. "When she took me into the Spine, I couldn't talk to her at all. It wasn't that she was ignoring me; I don't think she could hear me. There were walls around her mind that I couldn't get through."
Brom worked on his bandage for a moment, shifting it higher on his arm. "Only a few people can tell if someone is in their mind, and of those, only a handful could stop you from entering. It's a matter of training and of how you think. Because of your magical power, you'll always know if someone is in your mind. Once you do, blocking them is a simple matter of concentrating on one thing to the exclusion of all else. For instance, if you only think about a brick wall, that's all the enemy will find in your mind. However, it takes a huge amount of energy and discipline to block someone for any length of time. If you're distracted by even the slightest thing, your wall will waver and your opponent will slip through the weakness."
"How can I learn to do this?" asked Eragon and I nodded in agreement wanting to learn myself.
"There is only one thing for it: practice, practice, and yet more practice. Picture something in your mind and hold it there to the exclusion of all else for as long as you can. It is a very advanced ability; only a handful ever master it," said Brom.

"We don't need perfection, just safety." I nodded in agreement to Eragon's words.

When we reached Saphira, she startled us by thrusting her head at us. The horses backstepped nervously. Saphira looked Eragon over carefully and gave a low hiss. Her eyes were flinty. Eragon threw a concerned look at Brom-- we had never seen Saphira this angry--then I guess he asked her what was wrong, while I looked at Midnight who looked amused with all of this and now I knew why I sensed her feeling humorous.

Eragon frowned and got off Cadoc. As soon as his feet touched the ground, Saphira swept his legs out from under him with her tail and pinned him with her talons. "What are you doing?" he yelled, struggling to get up, but she was too strong for him. Brom watched attentively from Snowfire.

Saphira swung her head over Eragon until they were eye to eye. He squirmed under her unwavering glare.

I once again looked at Midnight "If I decide to get off of Stardust are you going to do the same to me?"
"Maybe, though it would be more for amusement than anger. Honestly I would be more worried of her doing it to you if I were you."
"Are you sure? Because if you're going to do it, I'll just go ahead and lay on the ground when I get down so that way I won't receive a sore back."
She gave a toothy smile and I smiled back before once again paying attention to Eragon and Saphira, just as Brom started to say something.

"Well?" demanded Brom.

"She wants me to ride her tomorrow," said Eragon lamely.

I stopped and blinked at him for a second before turning to a now laughing Midnight.

"That's why you were so amused by this?" My eyes widen in slight fear though I tried to push it down, knowing she wouldn't let anything happen to me as long as I was on her back. She just gave me a knowing smile since she had stopped laughing and layed back down in her spot from before.

Brom considered what Eragon said Saphira demanded with twinkling eyes and I knew he would say yes, no matter the reason. "Well, you both have the saddles. I suppose that if the four of you stay out of sight, it won't be a problem." Saphira switched her gaze to him, then returned it to Eragon.

"But what if you're attacked or there's an accident? We won't be able to get there in time and---"

Saphira pressed harder on his chest, stopping his words.

Brom seemed to hide a smile. "It's worth the risk. You both need to learn how to ride them anyway. Think about it this way: with you flying ahead and looking at the ground," (I paled at that thought) "you'll be able to spot any traps, ambushes, or other unwelcome surprises."

Eragon looked back at Saphira and I tried to get the idea of how high we'd be tomorrow out of my head.

Saphira let him up and, with a push of her legs, took off with Midnight following her. A small shiver ran through Eragon and I as we watched them twist through the air. Grumbling, he returned to Cadoc and we followed Brom.

It was nearly sundown when we made camp. As usual, Eragon and I dueled with Brom before dinner. In the midst of the fight, Eragon and I delivered such a powerful blow that we snapped all three of our sticks like twigs. The pieces whistled into the darkness in a cloud of splintered fragments. Brom tossed what remained of his stick into the fire, I did the same with mine. "We're done with these; throw yours in as well Eragon. You have both learned well, but we've gone as far as we can with branches. There is nothing more you can gain from them. It is time for you two to use the blade." He removed Zar'roc from Eragon's bag and gave it to him, while I grabbed mothers blade from my bag.

"We'll cut each other to ribbons," protested Eragon.

"Not so. Again you forget magic," said Brom. He held up his sword and turned it so that firelight glinted off the edge. He put a finger on either side of the blade and focused intensely, deepening the lines on his forehead. For a moment nothing happened, then he uttered, "Gëuloth du knifr!" And a small red spark jumped between his fingers. As it flickered back and forth, he ran his fingers down the length of the sword. Then he twirled it and did the same thing on the other side. The spark vanished the moment his fingers left the metal.

Brom held his hand out, palm up, and slashed it with the sword. Eragon jumped forward but was too slow to stop him. I guess he didn't pay attention to the exact words Brom had used, because he was astonished when Brom raised his unharmed hand with a smile. While Eragon focused on Brom I did the same thing to my mothers blade.

"What did you do?" asked Eragon.

"Feel the edge," said Brom. Eragon touched it and he must have felt an invisible surface under his fingers, much like mothers sword now had. "Now do the same on Zar'roc," instructed Brom. "Your block will be a bit different than mine, but it should accomplish the same thing."

He told Eragon how to pronounce the words and coached him through the process. It took Eragon a few tries, but he soon had Zar'roc's edge protected. Confident, he took his fighting stance, I did the same.

Before we started, Brom admonished, "These swipes won't cut us, but they can still break bones. I would prefer to avoid that, so don't flail around like you normally do. A blow to the neck could prove fatal."

Eragon and I nodded, then we both struck without warning. Sparks flew off our blades, and the clash of metal filled our campsite as Brom parried. The swords felt slow and heavy to me after fighting with sticks for so long. I jumped back but Eragon was unable to move Zar'roc fast enough, he received a sharp rap on his knee. We all had large welts when we stopped, Eragon and I more so than Brom. We both marveled that our swords had not been scratched or dented by the vigorous pounding they had received.

 

The next morning Eragon and I woke with stiff limbs and purple bruises. I woke up before Eragon and walked over to Midnight to set up the saddle on her. There's no way I'm going to get over my fear or get used to it until I start flying, though I was also taking the precautionary measure of not eating anything until I knew I wouldn't be sick from the flying.

When breakfast was ready both of the saddles were ready to go with our bags hung over them.

When Eragon's bowl was empty, he silently picked up his bow and went to Saphira. Brom said, "Now remember, grip with your knees, guide her with your thoughts, and stay as flat as you can on her back. Nothing will go wrong if you don't panic. Same to you and Midnight, Lyalle." Eragon and I nodded, Brom boosted him into the saddle, while Midnight held out a claw for me to use to climb into the saddle. Me and Eragon both tightened the bands around our legs.

I took a breath of the fresh morning air.

"Are you ready for this little one?"

"Not really no, but I know you won't let me fall so let's do this."

She chuckled "Very well."

I braced myself as she crouched and I could see Eragon do the same. Midnight and Saphira's powerful legs surged and the air whipped past us, snatching my breath away. With three smooth strokes of their wings, they were in the sky, climbing rapidly.

I clenched my arms around Midnights neck as she turned on edge, banking. The river shrank to a wispy gray line beneath us. Clouds floated around us.

When we leveled off high above the plains, the trees below were no more than specks. The air was thin, chilly, and perfectly clear. I heard Eragon start to yell "This is wonderful---" His words were lost as Saphira tilted and rolled completely around. I gripped harder onto Midnights saddle.

"Please don't do that to me yet!"

"There is nothing for you to be concerned about, I will not do it until you have begun to relax on me a bit more, or we are forced to take evasive action."

"Thank you Midnight. I'll try to relax more I promise."

"Good, but do not force yourself to do it."

"I don't think I'll have to as long as I don't look down too often while we're up here."

"Very well little one. Now let's have some fun." I could feel her chuckling from underneath me and it felt really odd but I still smiled.

"Don't do that!" Eragon cried. "I feel like I'm going to fall off."

Midnight was chuckling harder and even my own shoulders were shaking. Saphira angled into a shallow dive and slowly approached the ground, Midnight following not far behind. After a few minutes I felt comfortable enough to relax my arms a bit, I stretched my neck back slightly, taking in the scenery. Midnight slowed her pace and we both enjoyed the sights awhile.

"Would you like to see what flying is like through my eyes?"

I didn't even give it a second thought before answering. "Yes."

"Good. Now relax and do not be afraid."

Her mind tugged at mine, pulling me away from my body. Instincts told me to fight, but I managed to relax and give her control.

My vision blurred, and I found myself looking through Midnights eyes. Everything was distorted: colors had weird, exotic tints, blacks were more prominent now, while greens and reds and blues were subdued. I felt like a ghost who had slipped out of the ether.

Pure joy radiated from Midnight as she climbed into the sky right on Saphira's tail. She loved this freedom to go anywhere. When we were high above the ground, she looked back at me. I saw myself as she did, hanging on to her with a blank look and still somehow scrawny looking after all the training I had done, though I knew I had some muscle it was well hidden under the shirt. I could feel her body strain against the air, using the updrafts to rise. All her muscles were like my own. I felt her tail swinging through the air like a giant rudder to correct her course. It surprised me how much she depended on it.

Our connection grew stronger until there was no distinction between our identities. We clasped our wings together and dived straight down, like a spear thrown from on high. No terror of falling or of the heights touched me, engulfed as I was in Midnight's exhilaration. The air rushed past our face. Our tail whipped in the air, and our joined minds reveled in the experience.

Even as we plummeted toward the ground, there was no fear of collision. We snapped open our wings at just the right moment, pulling out of the dive with our combined strength. Slanting toward the sky, we shot up and continued back over into a giant loop.

As we leveled out, our minds began to diverge, becoming distinct personalities again. For a second, I felt both my body and Midnight's. Then my vision blurred and I sat on her back. I gasped and collapsed on the saddle. It was minutes before my heart stopped hammering and my breathing calmed. Once I had recovered I slowly sat back up again.

"That was amazing. I don't think I've ever felt such exhilaration before."

"I am pleased that you enjoyed it. Perhaps this means you'll be back in my saddle and with less fear in no time?"

"Of course! I can't say that I'll stop being afraid of heights or anything but as long as I'm with you I'll be fine."

"Good. Now lets keep up with those two so that way if Brom contact's either one of you, you can lead each other to him."

"Alright, lets go then."

With a chuckle from her she sped up until she was neck and neck with Saphira. As we continued to fly I caught Midnight up on everything that had been going on and just exchanging random thoughts about things. Including how I thought that Stardust might be my mothers horse, though I wasn't really sure how that was possible. The horse would be way too old and dead as well. But the way Stardust came up to me so calmly when I first saw her, it just made me wonder of the possibility. Other than that Midnight and Saphira showed Eragon and I how they used hills and trees to hide and how they could conceal themselves in the shadow of a cloud. I think Eragon and Saphira scouted the trail for Brom, which proved to be more arduous than they expected. None of us could see the path unless the dragons flew very close to it, in which case they risked being detected. Towards midday, Eragon suddenly seemed to be concentrating on one of Saphira's scales and forcing himself to ignore everything else. A sudden gust rocked the dragons, and Eragon's concentration slipped.

Saphira suddenly banked towards the river below and Midnight quickly followed.

"Draw your sword little one. According to Saphira, Brom says he's found something."

"Thank you midnight."

She gave a brief hum, as I drew my sword from its sheath.

When we all reached Brom, we saw him standing in a clearing, waving his arms. Saphira and Midnight landed, and Eragon and I jumped off of them and looked for danger. The horses were tied to a tree on the edge of the clearing, but otherwise Brom was alone. I was concused but followed Eragon when he trotted over and asked, "What's wrong?"

Brom scratched his chin and muttered a string of curses, which had me blinking in more confusion. "Don't ever block me out like that again. It's hard enough for me to reach you without having to fight to make myself heard."

"Sorry." So that's why Eragon became distracted.

He snorted. "I was farther down the river when I noticed that the Ra'zac's tracks had ceased. I backtracked until I found where they had disappeared. Look at the ground and tell me what you see."

Eragon and I knelt and we examined the dirt and found a confusion of impressions that were difficult to decipher. Numerous Ra'zac footprints overlapped each other. I guessed that the tracks were only a few days old. Superimposed over them were long, thick gouges torn into the ground. They looked familiar, and at first I could not say why but then I realized something. I backed straight into Saphira who I hadn't realized had come up behind me. Eragon on the other hand stood up shaking his head, since him and Brom hadn't noticed my reaction. "I don't have any idea what. . ."

Then his eyes fell on Saphira and I think he realized what possibly had made the gouges. Every time the dragons took off, their back claws dug into the ground and ripped it in the same manner.

"This doesn't make any sense, but the only thing I can think of is that the Ra'zac flew off on dragons. Or else they got onto giant birds and disappeared into the heavens. Tell me you have a better explanation."

Brom shrugged. "I've heard reports of the Ra'zac moving from place to place with incredible speed, but this is the first evidence I've had of it. It will be almost impossible to find them if they have flying steeds. They aren't dragons--I know that much. A dragon would never consent to bear a Ra'zac."

I sighed in relief and relaxed back into a much calmer stance, knowing that we wouldn't have to risk running into another dragon just yet.

"What do we do? Saphira and Midnight can't track them through the sky. Even if they could, we would leave you far behind."

"There's no easy solution to this riddle," said Brom. "Let's have lunch while we think on it. Perhaps inspiration will strike us while we eat." Eragon glumly went to his bags for food. We ate in silence, staring at the empty sky.

Once again, Eragon was thinking of home, I could tell by the far off look in his eyes that, that was the case. I placed my hand on his shoulder. Trying to give him a reassuring smile, I wasn't sure what was going on at the village and I could only hope no one was getting hurt. He plucked a twig from the ground and snapped it between two fingers before he finally looked up and gave a small smile back, then he looked out at the plains.

When Brom finished eating, he stood and threw back his hood.

"I have considered every trick I know, every word of power within my grasp, and all the skills we have, but I still don't see how we can find the Ra'zac." Eragon slumped against Saphira in despair and I slouched a bit myself.

"Saphira could show herself at some town. That would draw the Ra'zac like flies to honey. But it would be an extremely risky thing to attempt, even with an extra dragon on our side. The Ra'zac would bring soldiers with them, and the king might be interested enough to come himself, which would spell certain death for you two and me."

"So what now?" asked Eragon, throwing his hands up.

"That's up to you," said Brom. "This is your crusade."

Eragon ground his teeth angrily and stalked away from Brom, Saphira, Midnight, and I. I got up and went after him before Brom could tell me to give him some space. Just as he was about to enter the trees I caught up to him and his foot struck something hard. Lying on the ground was a metal flask with a leather strap just long enough to hang off someone's shoulder. A silver insignia I recognized from mothers journal as the Ra'zac's symbol was wrought into it, I think Eragon recognized it as well.

Excited, he picked up the flask and unscrewed its cap. A cloying smell filled the air--the same one that had been around Garrow when he was in the wreckage of our house. I held onto the cap and as Eragon tilted the flask, I barely had a chance to use the cap to prevent a drop of clear, shiny liquid from falling on his finger. I took the flask from him and quickly rescrewed the cap. He looked at me with confusion and I shook my head in warning, while pointing with my empty hand at the flask.

"You think it's dangerous?"

I nodded and he grimaced, we jogged back to Brom. "Look what we found." Brom took the flask and examined it, then poured a bit of the liquid into the cap. Eragon started to warn him, "Watch out, it's dangero---"

"Dangerous, I know," said Brom. "And I suppose you figured that out by pouring it on your skin or something? Well, at least you showed sense enough not to drink it. Only a puddle would have been left of you."

"Actually I was about to let a drop fall on my finger without realizing it when Lyalle grabbed it. He's the one who had a feeling that it was dangerous."

"Well good for both of you then."

"What is it?"

"Oil from the petals of the Seithr plant, which grows on a small island in the frigid northern seas. In it's natural state, the oil is used for preserving pearls--it makes them lustrous and strong. But when specific words are spoken over the oil, along with a blood sacrifice, it gains the property to eat any flesh. That alone wouldn't make it special--there are plenty of acids that can dissolve sinew and bone---except for the fact that it leaves everything else untouched. You can dip anything into the oil and pull it out unharmed, unless it was once part of an animal or human. This has made it a weapon of choice for torture and assassination. It can be stored in wood, slathered on the point of a spear, or dripped onto sheets so that the next person to touch them will be burned. There are a myriad of uses for it, limited only by your ingenuity. Any injury caused by it is always slow to heal. It's rather rare and expensive, especially this converted form."

Eragon and I remembered the terrible burns that had covered Garrow. I shuddered and leant against Midnight.

"Little one?"

"Mid-Midnight, they used that on Uncle Garrow."

"I'm sorry little one."

"I know."

she nuzzled her nose against my arm and I hugged her for a few seconds before turning back to see what the others would say.

"I wonder why the Ra'zac left it behind if it's so valuable."

"It must have slipped off when they flew away."

"But why didn't they come back for it? I doubt that the king will be pleased that they lost it."

"No, he won't," said Brom, "but he would be even more displeased if they delayed in bringing him news of you. In fact, if the Ra'zac have reached him by now, you can be sure that the king has learned your name. And that means we will have to be much more careful when we go into town. There will be notices and alerts about you posted throughout the Empire."

Eragon paused to think. "This oil, how rare is it exactly?"

"Like diamonds in a pig trough," said Brom. He amended himself after a second, "Actually, the normal oil is used by Jewelers, but only those who can afford it."

"So there are people who trade in it?"

"Perhaps one, maybe two."

"Good," said Eragon. "Now, do the cities along the coast keep shipping records?"

Brom's eyes brightened. "Of course they do. If we could get to those records, they would tell us who brought the oil south and where it went from there."

"And the record of the Empire's purchase will tell us where the Ra'zac live!" concluded Eragon. "I don't know how many people can afford this oil, but it shouldn't be hard to figure out which ones aren't working for the Empire."

"Genius!" exclaimed Brom, smiling. "I wish I had thought of this years ago; it would have saved me many headaches. The coast is dotted with numerous cities and towns where ships can land. I suppose that Teirm would be the place to start, as it controls most of the trade." Brom paused. "The last I heard, my old friend Jeod lives there. We haven't seen each other for many years, but he might be willing to help us. And because he's a merchant, it's possible that he has access to those records."

"How do we get to Teirm?"

"We'll have to go southwest until we reach a high pass in the Spine. Once on the other side, we can head up the coast to Teirm," said Brom. A gentle wind pulled at his hair.

"Can we reach the pass within a week?"

"Easily. If we angle away from the Ninor and to our right, we might be able to see the mountains by tomorrow."

Eragon went to Saphira and mounted her, while I did the same to Midnight. "We'll see you at dinner, then."

As we were flying I had an idea.

"Can you pull up beside Saphira, Midnight?"

"I can."

She flew until she was leveled with Saphira and I started waving my arms at Eragon until I had his attention.

"What is it Lyalle?!"

I pointed at him and then tapped the side of my head before tilting it in a questioning manner.

"You want to try and get into my mind, but why?"

I nodded first and then mimicked someone talking with my hand.

"You want to do it so that we can communicate?"

I nodded my head enthusiastically.

he smiled. "That could work. I can't believe we didn't think of this sooner."

I grinned before focusing and searching for his mind. "Can you hear me Eragon?"

He jumped in surprise before smiling.

"I can."

"This is awesome! This will make it easier to talk to you without trying to guess what you're trying to say, and you can even use it to gain our attention if you need it."

"You're right I could, but I'll still need to use my hands from time to time. Are you sure it's alright to do this?"

"yes, it's fine. If I don't want you in my head at some point I'll tell you or just block you out."

"Alright. Let's just enjoy flying while we have the daylight for now."

He nodded and then we cut the connection and I just enjoyed the feeling of the wind in my face.

When we landed that day me and Eragon found out just how much the saddles had protected us from the Dragon's scales.

Eragon, Brom, and I had our nightly fight, but it lacked energy, as those two were preoccupied with the day's events. By the time we finished, mine and Eragon's arms burned from being unaccustomed to the actual swords weight.

The next day while we were riding, Eragon asked Brom, "What is the sea like?"

"You must have heard it described before," said Brom.
"Yes, but what is it really like?"
Brom's eyes grew hazy, as if he looked upon some hidden scene.
"The sea is emotion incarnate. It loves, hates, and weeps. It defies all attempts to capture it with words and rejects all shackles. No matter what you say about it, there is always that which you can't. Do you remember what I told you about how the elves came over the sea?"

I blinked in confusion, though I assume he is referring to when Eragon had gone to him to figure out a name for Saphira "Yes."

"Though they live far from the coast, they retain a great fascination and passion for the ocean. The sound of crashing waves, the smell of salt air, it affects them deeply and has inspired many of their loveliest songs. There is one that tells of this love, if you want to hear it."

I nodded. "I would," said Eragon, both of us interested.
Brom cleared his throat and said, "I will translate it from the ancient language as best I can. It won't be perfect, but perhaps it will give you two an idea of how the original sounds." He pulled Snowfire to a stop and closed his eyes. He was silent for a while, then chanted softly:

O liquid temptress 'neath the azure sky,
Your gilded expanse calls me, calls me.
For I would sail ever on,
Were it not for the elven maid,
who calls me, calls me.
She binds my heart with a lily-white tie,
Never to be broken, save by the sea,
Ever to be torn twixt the trees and the waves."

The words echoed hauntingly in my head. "There is much more to that song, the 'Du Silbena Datia.' I have only recited one of its verses. It tells the sad tale of two lovers, Acallamh and Nuada, who were separated by longing for the sea. The elves find great meaning in the story."
"It's beautiful," said Eragon simply and I nodded in agreement.
The Spine was a faint outline on the horizon when we halted that evening.

When we arrived at the Spine's foothills, we turned and followed the mountains south. Eragon and I were glad to be near the mountains again; they placed comforting boundaries on the world.

Three days later we came to a wide road rutted by wagon wheels. "This is the main road between the capital, Uru'baen, and Teirm," said Brom. "It's widely used and a favorite route for merchants. We have to be more cautious. This isn't the busiest time of year, but a few people are bound to be using the road."

Days passed quickly as we continued to trek along the Spine, searching for the mountain pass. Eragon and I could not complain of boredom. When not (re)learning the elven language, we were either learning how to care for the dragons or practicing magic. Eragon and I also learned how to kill game with magic, which saved us time hunting. We would hold a small rock on our hand and shoot it at our prey.

It was impossible to miss. The results of our efforts roasted over the fire each night. And after dinner, Brom, Eragon, and I would spar with swords and, occasionally fists.
The long days and strenuous work stripped Eragon's and mine's body of excess fat. Eragon's arms became corded, and his tanned skin rippled with lean muscles. My skin still hadn't tanned but I did seem to have more muscle on me. Of course to Eragon I still seemed smaller in size, but all well.

When we finally reached the pass, Eragon and I saw that a river rushed out of it and cut across the road. "This is the Toark," explained Brom. "We'll follow it all the way to the sea."

"How can we," laughed Eragon, "if it flows out of the Spine in this direction? It won't end up in the ocean unless it doubles back on itself."

Brom twisted the ring on his finger. "Because in the middle of the mountains rests the Woadark Lake. A river flows from each end of it and both are called the Toark. We see the eastward one now. It runs to the south and winds through the brush until it joins Leona Lake. The other one goes to the sea."

After two days in the Spine, we came upon a rock ledge from which we could see clearly out of the mountains, though I looked over it all, I stayed away from the edge. Eragon and I noticed how the land flattened in the distance, and he groaned at the leagues we still had to traverse. Brom pointed. "Down there and to the north lies Teirm. It is an old city. Some say it's where the elves first landed in Alagaësia. Its citadel has never fallen, nor have its warriors ever been defeated." He spurred Snowfire forward and left the ledge.

It took us until noon the next day to descend through the foothills and arrive at the other side of the Spine, where the forested land quickly leveled out. Without the mountains to hide behind, Saphira and Midnight flew close to the ground, using every hollow and dip in the land to conceal themselves.

Beyond the forest, we noticed a change. The countryside was covered with soft turf and heather that our feet sank into. Moss clung to every stone and branch and lined the streams that laced the ground. Pools of mud pocked the road where horses had trampled the dirt. Before long both Brom, Eragon, and I were splattered with grime.

"Why is everything green?" asked Eragon. "Don't they have winter here?"

"Yes, but the season is mild. Mist and fog roll in from the sea and keep everything alive. Some find it to their liking, but to me it's dreary and depressing."

When evening fell, we set up camp in the driest spot we could find. As we ate, Brom commented, "You both should continue to ride Cadoc and Stardust until we reach Teirm. It's likely that we'll meet other travelers now that we are out of the Spine, and it will be better if you two are with me. An old man traveling alone will raise suspicion. With you two at my side, no one will ask questions. Besides, I don't want to show up at the city and have someone who saw me on the trail wondering where you suddenly came from."

"Will we use our own names?" asked Eragon.

Brom thought about it. "We won't be able to deceive Jeod. He already knows my name, and I think I trust him with both of yours. But to everyone else, I will be Neal and you will be my nephew's Evan and Lee. If our tongues slip and give us away, it probably won't make a difference, but I don't want our names in anyone's heads. People have an annoying habit of remembering things they shouldn't."

Notes:

This story is also on Quotev and this chapter has the song "Test flight" from how to train your dragon on it. Unfortunately, I could not get the video onto this chapter on Archive like I could on quotev.

Chapter 9: A Taste of Teirm and an Old Friend and the Beginning

Notes:

Conversations with just " " are people speaking out loud. Conversations with ' ' and italicized are written conversations. Conversations that are both bold and italicized are mental conversations. With this out of the way I hope you enjoy the story.

Image found on Google.



After two days of traveling north toward the ocean, Midnight and Saphira sighted Teirm. A heavy fog clung to the ground, obscuring our sight until a breeze from the west blew the mist away. Eragon and I gaped as Teirm was suddenly revealed before us, nestled by the edge of the shimmering sea, where proud ships were docked with furled sails. The surf's dull thunder could be heard in the distance.

The city was contained behind a white wall--a hundred feet tall and thirty feet thick--with rows of rectangular arrow slits lining it and a walkway on top for soldiers and watchmen. The wall's smooth surface was broken by two iron portcullises, one facing the western sea, the other opening south to the road. Above the wall--and set against its northeast section--rose a huge citadel built of giant stones and turrets. In the highest tower, a lighthouse lantern gleaned brilliantly. The castle was the only thing visible over the fortifications.

Soldiers guarded the southern gate but held their pikes carelessly. "This is our first test," said Brom. "Let's hope they haven't received reports of us from the Empire and won't detain us. Whatever happens, don't panic or act suspiciously."

We both nodded. "We're going in Midnight. Take care of yourself while we're inside. When I get a chance I'll come to see you both."

"Very well little one. But remember to take care of yourself as well."

"Don't worry I will."

I could feel love and contentment coming from her and guessed that she might be purring.

We rode toward the gate, trying to appear casual. A yellow pennant bearing the outline of a roaring lion and an arm holding a lily blossom waved over the entrance. As we neared the wall, Eragon asked in amazement, "How big is this place?"

"Larger than any city you have ever seen," said Brom.

At the entrance to Teirm, the guards stood straighter and blocked the gate with their pikes. "Wha's yer name?" asked one of them in a bored tone.

"I'm called Neal," said Brom in a wheezy voice, slouching to one side, an expression of happy idiocy on his face.

"And who the' other one's?" asked the guard.

"Well, I wus gettin' to that. This'ed be m'nephew Evan and m'nephew Lee. They m'sister's boys, not a . . ."

The guard nodded impatiently while I tried to keep a straight face at Brom's acting skills. "Yeah, yeah. And yer business here?"

"He's visitin' an old friend," supplied Eragon, dropping his voice into a thick accent. "I'm along t' make sure he don't get lost, if y'all get m'meaning. He ain't as young as he used to be---had a bit too much sun when he was young'r. Touch o' the brain fever, y'all know."

I kept my head down trying not to be noticed, but either way I hope Eragon has a good excuse for my presence.

"And the quiet one behind y'?"

"Ma wouldn't let us leave him at home with her."

"Right. Go on through," said the guard, waving his hand and dropping the pike. "Just make sure he doesn't cause any trouble."

"Oh, he won't," promised Eragon. He urged Cadoc forward while I did the same to Stardust, and we rode into Teirm. The cobblestone street clacked under the horse's hooves.

Once we were away from the guards, Brom sat up and growled, "Touch of brain fever, eh?"

"I couldn't let you have all the fun," teased Eragon.

As Brom harrumphed and looked away, my shoulders started to shake in silent laughter. After a few seconds I managed to stop and look around.

The houses were grim and foreboding. Small, deep windows let in only sparse rays of light. Narrow doors were recessed into the buildings. The tops of the roofs were flat--except for metal railings--and all were covered with slate shingles. I noticed that the houses closest to Teirm's outer wall were no more than one story, but the buildings got progressively higher as we went in. Those next to the citadel were tallest of all, though insignificant compared to the fortress. The height difference in the houses might be used for an archers use or other soldiers.

"This place looks ready for war," said Eragon.

Brom nodded. "Teirm has a history of being attacked by pirates, Urgals, and other enemies. It has long been a center of commerce. There will always be conflict where riches gather in such abundance. The people here have been forced to take extraordinary measures to keep themselves from being overrun. It also helps that Galbatorix gives them soldiers to defend their city."

"Why are some houses higher than others?"

"Look at the citadel," said Brom, pointing. "It has an unobstructed view of Teirm. If the outer wall were breached, archers would be posted on all the roofs. Because the houses in the front, by the outer wall, are lower, the men farther back could shoot over them without fear of hitting their comrades. Also, if the enemy were to capture those houses and put their own archers on them, it would be an easy matter to shoot them down."

Hah! I knew it.

"I've never seen a city planned like this," said Eragon in wonder. I looked at him with a deadpanned expression, up until now neither one of us had seen a city period.

"Yes, but it was only done after Teirm was nearly burned down by a pirate raid," commented Brom. As we continued up the street, people gave us searching looks, but there was not an undue amount of interest.

A large man soon shouldered past us, a sword hanging from his waist. There were other, subtler signs of adverse times: no children played in the streets, people bore hard expressions, and many houses were deserted, with weeds growing from cracks in their stone-covered yards. "It looks like they've had trouble," said Eragon.

"The same as everywhere else," said Brom grimly. "We have to find Jeod." We led our horses across the street to a tavern and tied them to the hitching post. "The Green Chestnut . . .wonderful," muttered Brom, looking at the battered sign above us as he, Eragon, and I entered the building.

The dingy room felt unsafe. A fire smoldered in the fireplace, yet no one bothered to throw more wood on it. A few lonely people in the corners nursed their drinks with sullen expressions. A man missing two fingers sat at a far table, eyeing his twitching stumps. The bartender had a cynical twist to his lips and held a glass in his hand that he kept polishing, even though it was broken.

Brom leaned against the bar and asked, "Do you know where we can find a man called Jeod?" Eragon and I stood at his side, Eragon fiddling with the tip of his bow by his waist. It was slung across his back, while mothers sword hung at my side.

The bartender said in an overly loud voice that I found completely unnecessary, "Now, why would I know something like that? Do you think I keep track of the mangy louts in this forsaken place?"

Eragon and I winced as all eyes turned toward us, and I edged closer to Eragon in case trouble started.

Brom kept talking smoothly. "Could you be enticed to remember?" He slid some coins onto the bar.

The man brightened and put his glass down. "Could be," he replied, lowering his voice, "but my memory takes a great deal of prodding." Brom's face soured and I agreed with his expression, but he slid more coins onto the bar. The bartender sucked on one side of his cheek undecidedly. "All right," he finally said, and reached for the coins.

Before he touched them, the man missing two fingers called out from his table, "Gareth, what in th' blazes do you think you're doing? Anyone on the street could tell them where Jeod lives. What are you charging them for?"

Brom swept the coins back into his purse. Gareth shot a venomous look at the man at the table, then turned his back on us and picked up the glass again. I smiled at how Karma seemed to play in our favor in that one moment. Brom went to the stranger as Eragon and I followed behind him and said, "Thanks. The name's Neal. This is Evan and Lee."

The man raised his mug to us. "Martin, and of course you met Gareth." His voice was deep and rough. Martin gestured at some empty chairs. "Go ahead and sit down. I don't mind." Eragon took a chair and arranged it so his back was to the wall and he faced the door, I arranged mine so that way I could keep an eye on the other occupants of the bar. Martin raised an eyebrow, but made no comment.

"You just saved me a few crowns," said Brom.

"My pleasure. Can't blame Gareth, though--business hasn't been doing so well lately." Martin scratched his chin. "Jeod lives on the west side of town, right next to Angela, the herbalist. Do you have business with him?"

"Of a sort," said Brom, way to be cryptic.

"Well, he won't be interested in buying anything; he just lost another ship a few days ago."

Brom latched onto the news with interest. "What happened? It wasn't Urgals, was it?"

"No," said Martin. "They've left the area. No one's seen 'em in almost a year. It seems they've all gone south and east. But they aren't the problem. See, most of our business is through sea trade, as I'm sure you know. Well," he stopped to drink from his mug, "starting several months ago, someone's been attacking our ships. It's not the usual piracy, because only ships that carry goods of certain merchants are attacked. Jeod's one of 'em. It's gotten so bad that no captain will accept those merchant's goods, which makes life difficult around here. Especially because some of 'em run the largest shipping businesses in the Empire. They're being forced to send goods by land. It's driven costs painfully high, and their caravans don't always make it."

"Do you have any idea who's responsible? There must be witnesses," said Brom.

Martin shook his head. "No one survives the attacks. Ships go out, then disappear; they're never seen again." He leaned towards us and said in a confidential tone, "The sailors are saying that it's magic." He nodded and winked, then leaned back.

Brom seemed worried by his words. "What do you think?"

Martin shrugged carelessly. "I don't know. And I don't think I will unless I'm unfortunate enough to be on one of those captured ships."

"Are you a sailor?" asked Eragon.

"No," snorted Martin. "Do I look like one? The captains hire me to defend their ships against pirates. And those thieving scum haven't been very active lately. Still, it's a good job."

"But a dangerous one," said Brom. Martin shrugged again and downed the last of his beer. We took our leave of the tavern and headed to the west side of the city, a nicer section of Teirm. The houses were clean, ornate, and large. The people in the streets wore expensive finery and walked with authority. Eragon and I felt conspicuous and out of place.

The herbalist's shop had a cheery sign and was easy to find. A short, curly haired woman sat by the door. She was holding a frog in one hand and writing with the other. I assumed that she was Angela, the herbalist. On either side of the store was a house. "Which one do you think is his?" Eragon asked Brom. Brom deliberated, then said, "Let's find out." He approached the woman and asked politely, "Could you tell us which house Jeod lives in?"

"I could." She continued writing.

"Will you tell us?"

"Yes." She fell silent, but her pen scribbled faster than ever. The frog on her hand croaked and looked at us with baleful eyes. Brom and Eragon waited uncomfortably, but she said no more. I had an idea of what she might be wanting and tapped Brom's shoulder. He looked at me with confusion.

"Ask her which is Jeod's house. Stop asking if she can or will." I mouthed to him.

His eyes lit up in the same realization. "Now let me ask you properly," said Brom with a smile. "Which house is Jeod's? And why are you holding a frog?"

"Now we're getting somewhere," she bantered. "Jeod is on the right. And as for the frog, he's actually a toad. I'm trying to prove that toads don't exist--that there are only frogs."

"How can toads not exist if you have one on your hand right now?" interrupted Eragon. "Besides, what good will it do, proving that there are only frogs?"

I smacked his shoulder giving him a look that said you don't ask something like that.

The woman shook her head vigorously, dark curls bouncing.

"No, no, you don't understand. If I prove toads don't exist, then this is a frog and never was a toad. Therefore, the toad you see now doesn't exist. And," she raised a small finger, "if I can prove there are only frogs, then toads won't be able to do anything bad--like make teeth fall out, cause warts, and poison or kill people. Also, witches won't be able to use any of their evil spells because, of course, there won't be any toads around."

I gave her an encouraging smile and thumbs up.

"I see," said Brom delicately. "It sounds interesting, and I would like to hear more, but we have to meet Jeod."

"Of course," she said, waving her hand and returning to her writing.

Once we were out of the herbalist's hearing, Eragon said, "She's crazy!"

"Don't be rude Eragon."

"It's possible," said Brom, "but you never know. She might discover something useful, so don't criticize. Who knows, toads might really be frogs!"

"And my shoes are made of gold, also I wasn't being rude Lyalle. I was simply stating what I thought,"

Brom looked at Eragon confused for a second. "Have you two been communicating with the mental connection you share with your dragons?"

"Yes. Lyalle got the idea when we started flying again after we found out about the Ra'zac having flying steeds."

"Good. That could help us not to have to play a guessing game so often and I wouldn't have to read your lips."

We stopped before a door with a wrought-iron knocker and marble doorstep. Brom banged three times. No one answered. Eragon felt slightly foolish while I patiently waited for someone to get to the door. "Maybe this is the wrong house. Let's try the other one," Eragon said. Brom ignored him and knocked , pounding loudly.

Again no one answered. Eragon turned away in exasperation.

"You need to be more patient Eragon. Give them time. We don't know how big the house is."

Then we heard someone run to the door and I gave Eragon an, 'I told you so' look. A young woman with a pale complexion and light blond hair cracked it open. Her eyes were puffy; it looked like she had been crying, but her voice was perfectly steady. "Yes, what do you want?"

"Does Jeod live here?" asked Brom kindly.

The woman dipped her head a little. "Yes, he is my husband. Is he expecting you?" She opened the door farther.

"No, but we need to talk with him," said Brom.

"He is very busy."

"We have traveled far. It's very important that we see him."

Her face hardened. "He is busy."

Brom bristled, but his voice stayed pleasant. "Since he is unavailable, would you please give him a message?" Her mouth twitched, but she consented. "Tell him that a friend from Gil'ead is waiting outside."

The woman seemed suspicious, but said, "Very well." She closed the door abruptly. Eragon and I heard her footsteps recede.

"That wasn't very polite." Eragon commented.

"Keep your opinions to yourself," snapped Brom. "And don't say anything. Let me do the talking." He crossed his arms and tapped his fingers. Eragon clamped his mouth shut and looked away. I rolled my eyes at both of them. I hope the woman is alright, I wonder what made her cry earlier?

The door suddenly flew open and I jumped behind Brom startled, a tall man burst out of the house. His expensive clothes were rumpled. A long scar stretched across his scalp to his temple.

At the sight of us, his eyes grew wide, and he sagged against the door frame, speechless. His mouth opened and closed several times like a gasping fish and I hoped he was okay. He asked softly, in an incredulous voice, "Brom...?"

Brom put a finger to his lips and reached forward, clapping the man's arm. I stood next to Eragon again. "It's good to see you, Jeod! I'm glad that memory has not failed you, but don't use that name. It would be unfortunate if anyone knew I was here."

Jeod looked around wildly, shock plain on his face. "I thought you were dead," he whispered. "What happened? Why haven't you contacted me before?"

Jeod hesitated, swinging his gaze between Eragon, me, and Brom, his face unreadable. Finally he said, "We can't talk here, but if you wait a moment, I'll take you somewhere we can."

"Fine," said Brom. Jeod nodded and vanished behind the door.

There was a rapier at Jeod's side when he reappeared. An embroidered jacket hung loosely on his shoulders, matched by a plumes hat. Brom cast a critical eye at the finery while I couldn't take my eyes off the feather on top of the hat, and Jeod shrugged self-consciously.

He took us through Teirm toward the citadel. Eragon and I led the horses behind the two men. Jeod gestured at our destination.

"Risthart, the lord of Teirm, has decreed that all the business owners must have their headquarters in his castle. Even though most of us conduct our business elsewhere, we still have to rent rooms there. It's nonsense, but we abide by it anyway to keep him calm. We'll be free of eavesdroppers in there; the walls are thick."

We went through the fortress's main gate and into the keep. Jeod strode to a side door and pointed to an iron ring. "You can tie the horses there. No one will bother them." When Snowfire, Cadoc, and Stardust were safely tethered, he opened the door with an iron key and let us inside.

Within was a long, empty hallway lit by torches set into the walls. Eragon was surprised by how cold and damp it was, though the cold and dampness didn't bother me. When we touched the wall, our, fingers slid over a layer of slime. Eragon shivered and I just scrunched my nose.

Jeod snatched a torch from its bracket and led us down the hall. We stopped before a heavy, wooden door. He unlocked it and ushered us into a room dominated by a beaten in rug laden with stuffed chairs. Bookshelves stacked with leather-bound tomes covered the walls.

Jeod piled wood in the fireplace, then thrust the torch under it. The fire quickly roared. "You, old man, have some explaining to do."

Brom's face crinkled with a smile. "Who are you calling an old man? The last time I saw you there was no gray in your hair. Now it looks like it's in the final stages of decomposition."

"And you look the same as you did nearly twenty years ago. Time seems to have preserved you as a crotchety old man just to inflict wisdom upon each new generation. Enough of this! Get on with the story. That's always what you were good at," said Jeod impatiently. Eragon's ears pricked up while I tilted my head in curiosity, we both waited to hear what Brom would say.

Brom relaxed into a chair and pulled out his pipe. He slowly blew a smoke ring that turned green, darted into the fireplace, then flew up the chimney. "Do you remember what we were doing in Gil'ead?"

"Yes, of course," said Jeod. "That sort of thing is hard to forget."

"An understatement, but true nevertheless," said Brom dryly.

"When we were. . . separated, I couldn't find you. In the midst of the turmoil I stumbled into a small room. There wasn't anything extraordinary in it--just crates and boxes--but out of curiosity, I rummaged around anyway. Fortune smiled on me that hour, for I found what we had been searching for." An expression of shock ran over Jeod's face. "Once it was in my hands, I couldn't wait for you. Disguising myself as best I could, I fled the city and ran to the. . ."

Brom hesitated and glanced at Eragon and I, then said, "ran to our friends. They stored it in a vault, for safekeeping, and made me promise to care for whoever received it. Until the day when my skills would be needed, I had to disappear. No one could know that I was alive--not even you--though it grieved me to pain you unnecessarily. So I went north and hid in Carvahall."

I noticed Eragon clench his jaw in irritation, I didn't blame him since Brom was deliberately keeping us in the dark.

"Hey Eragon?"

"Yes, Lyalle?"

"Do you think that the object that Brom found, might have been Saphira's egg?"

"It's possible, but unless Brom confesses we won't be able to find out."

Jeod frowned and asked, "Then our. . .friends knew that you were alive all along?"

"Yes."

He sighed. "I suppose the ruse was unavoidable, though I wish they had told me. Isn't Carvahall farther north, on the other side of the Spine?" Brom inclined his head. For the first time, Jeod inspected Eragon, he inspected me as well but with more confusion than anything else. His gray eyes took in every detail. He raised his eyebrows and said, "I assume, then, that you are fulfilling your duty."

Brom shook his head. "No, it's not that simple. It was stolen a while ago--at least that's what I presume, for I haven't received word from our friends, and I suspect their messengers were waylaid--so I decided to find out what I could. Eragon and Lyalle happened to be traveling in the same direction. We have stayed together for a time now."

Jeod looked puzzled. "But if they haven't sent any messages, how could you know that it was--"

Brom overrode him quickly, saying, "Eragon and Lyalle's uncle was brutally killed by the Ra'zac. They burned their home and nearly caught them in the process. They deserve revenge, but they have left us without a trail to follow, and we need help finding them."

Jeod's face cleared. "I see. . . . But why have you come here? I don't know where the Ra'zac might be hiding, and anyone who does won't tell you."

Standing, Brom reached into his robe and pulled out the Ra'zac's flask. He tossed it to Jeod. "That's Seithr oil in there--the dangerous kind. The Ra'zac we're carrying it. We need to see Teirm's shipping records so we can trace the Empire's purchase of the oil. That should tell us where the Ra'zac's lair is."

Lines appeared on Jeod's face as he thought. He pointed at the books on the shelves. "Do you see those? They are all the records from my business. One business. You have gotten yourself into a project that could take months. There is another, greater problem. The records you seek are held in this castle, but only Brand, Risthart's administrator of trade, sees them on a regular basis. Traders such as myself aren't allowed to handle them. They fear that we will falsify the results, thus cheating the Empire of its precious taxes."

"I can deal with that when the time comes," said Brom. "But we need a few days of rest before we can think about proceeding."

Jeod smiled. "It seems that it is my turn to help you. My house is yours, of course. Do you have another name while you are here?"

"Yes," said Brom, "I'm Neal, and the boys are Evan and Lee."

"Eragon," said Jeod thoughtfully. "You have a unique name. Few have ever been named after the first Rider. In my life I've read about only three people who were called such." Eragon was startled that Jeod knew the origin of his name.

Brom looked at Eragon and I. "Could you go check on the horses and make sure they're all right? I don't think I tied Snowfire to the ring tightly enough."

I could tell they wanted to hide something from us but knew complaining wouldn't get us anywhere. I tapped Eragon's shoulder and gestured to the door. Eragon shoved himself out of the chair and left the room; I barely managed to get out the door before Eragon could slam the door shut. I rolled my eyes but followed him back outside. Snowfire had not moved; the knot that held him was fine. Scratching the horses' necks, Eragon leaned sullenly against the castle wall. He jolted upright all of a sudden and I gave him a confused look, while I started to brush Stardust's fur. After a few minutes, instead of an answer he said, "Thverr stenr un atra eka hórna!"

I gave him an 'are you nuts look but sat down and waited for him to stop eavesdropping to Brom and Jeod.

Eragon looked around for some reason so I assumed his hearing spell worked. He grinned and sat on the courtyard and closed his eyes. Eragon seemed to get excited about something, before continuing to listen. I may be patient when I'm doing something but this waiting is torture. I went back to brushing Stardust while waiting. I payed attention to Eragon when his eyes opened and he said, "What's going on?"

"What do you mean Eragon?"

He looked up at me. "Jeod and other traders are in trouble for helping people the Empire doesn't favor. Brom found something in Gil'ead and went to Carvahall to hide. What could be so important that he would let his own friend think he was dead for nearly twenty years? He mentioned a queen--when the only queen in any of the known kingdoms we had, was killed nearly 16 years ago---and dwarves, who, as he himself told us, disappeared underground long ago."

"That is weird, but we can't get answers until he's ready. If we try to force him to tell us now, he'll just clam up or you two will start to argue or maybe even fight."

"True. Alright, we'll wait."

I nodded and waited for them to come out of the building. Suddenly the door opened.

"Were the horses all right?" asked Brom.

"Fine," said Eragon. We untied the horses and left the castle. As we reentered the main body of Teirm, Brom said, "So, Jeod, you finally got married. And," he winked slyly, "to a lovely young woman. Congratulations."

Jeod did not seem happy with the compliment. He hunched his shoulders and stared down at the street. "Whether congratulations are in order is debatable right now. Helen isn't very happy."

"Why? What does she want?" asked Brom.

"The usual," said Jeod with a resigned shrug. "A good home, happy children, food on the table, and pleasant company. The problem is that she comes from a wealthy family; her father has invested heavily in my business. If I keep suffering these losses, there won't be enough money for her to live the way she's used to."

Jeod continued, "But please, my troubles are not your troubles. A host should never bother his guests with his own concerns. While you are in my house, I will let nothing more than an over-full stomach disturb you."

"Thank you," said Brom. "We appreciate the hospitality. Our travels have long been without comforts of any kind. Do you happen to know where we could find an inexpensive shop? All this riding has worn out our clothes."

"Of course. That's my job," said Jeod, lightening up. He talked eagerly about prices and stores until his house was in sight. Then he asked, "Would you mind if we went somewhere else to eat? It might be awkward if you came in right now."

"Whatever makes you feel comfortable," said Brom.

Jeod looked relieved. "Thanks. Let's leave your horses in my stable."

We did as he suggested, then followed him to a large tavern. I walked as close to Eragon as I could without annoying him. Jeod seemed nice but I still wasn't used to him and there was just too many people around here to begin with. I like it better when we're amongst the trees or back in Carvahall. Unlike the Green Chestnut, this one was loud, clean, and full of boisterous people. Eragon kept a hand on my shoulder as we walked to a table which made it slightly easier to relax. When the main course arrived--a stuffed suckling pig--Eragon eagerly dug into the meat, but he seemed to especially savor the potatoes, carrots, turnips, and sweet apples that accompanied it. I've never been big on meat but typically ate it anyways, you eat what you can when that's all you have; I mostly ate the potatoes, carrots, turnips, and sweet apples.

We lingered over the meal for hours as Brom and Jeod swapped stories. Eragon did not mind and I did not care either. It was fun to listen to them talk.

When we finally exited the tavern, the sun was nearing the horizon. "You three go ahead; I have to check on something," Eragon said. I assume he wanted to check on Saphira.

"Will you tell Midnight that I'll see her tomorrow, some time in the morning if I'm lucky."

"Don't worry I will."

Brom agreed absently. "Be careful. Don't take too long."

"Wait," said Jeod. "Are you going outside Teirm?" Eragon hesitated, then reluctantly nodded. "Make sure you're inside the walls before dark. The gates close then, and the guards won't let you back in until morning."

"I won't be late," promised Eragon. He turned around and loped down a side street, toward Teirm's outer wall.

I continued to follow Brom and Jeod until we reached his house. When we entered Jeod spoke to Helen real quick, informing her that we would be staying for a while. Tapestries covered the stone walls. Elaborate rugs dotted the polished wood floor, which glowed with the light from three gold candelabra hanging from the ceiling. Smoke drifted through the air and collected above. After Helen walked off, me and Brom followed Jeod past scores of doorways until he opened one to reveal a study. Books covered the room's walls. But unlike those in Jeod's office, these came in every size and shape. A fireplace filled with logs was soon lit and started to warm the room. Brom and Jeod started talking about how we should go about getting access to the records and how we would read them. I was about to start looking at Jeod's books when I suddenly realized something. I walked over to Brom and tapped his shoulder, which made both him and Jeod turn their attention onto me. I shifted slightly under Jeod's gaze but mouthed to Brom "Did you forget that Eragon can't read? Garrow never taught him or Roran. He only taught me out of possible necessity."

His head snapped to attention "The old fool never taught him?!"

I nodded.

"Well this will set us back but I can still teach Eragon myself."

I nodded and went back over to the books and started to read over the titles until I found an adventure one, then I sat down in an arm chair and started to read. After a while the door to the study opened and Eragon walked in. Brom and Jeod sat before an oval writing desk, talking amiably. Brom raised his pipe and said in a jovial voice, "Ah, here you are. We were getting worried about you. How was your walk?"

"Pleasant, but the guards almost locked me outside the city. And Teirm is big. I had trouble finding this house."

Jeod chuckled and I looked at him in confusion. "When you have seen Dras-Leona, Gil'ead, or even Kuasta, you won't be so easily impressed by this small ocean City. I like it here, though. When it's not raining, Teirm is really quite beautiful."

Eragon turned to Brom. "Do you have any idea how long we'll be here?"

Brom spread his palms upward. "That's hard to tell. It depends on whether we can get to the records and how long it will take us to find what we need. We'll all have to help; it will be a huge job. I'll talk with Brand tomorrow and see if he'll let us examine the records."

"I don't think I'll be able to help," Eragon said, shifting uneasily.

"Why not?" asked Brom. "There will be plenty of work for you."

Eragon lowered his head. "I can't read."

"I know, I know that Garrow never taught you, so I'm going to do that myself."

"He knew how to read?" asked Eragon, puzzled. Jeod watched them with interest. I went back to reading but continued to listen as well.

"Of course he did," snorted Brom. "Teaching you to read won't take long if you put your mind to it."

Eragon winced. Brom's lessons we're usually intense and brutally direct. "I suppose it's necessary," he said ruefully.

"You'll enjoy it. There is much you can learn from books and scrolls," said Jeod. He gestured at the walls. "These books are my friends, my companions. They make me laugh and cry and find meaning in life."

"It sounds intriguing," admitted Eragon.

"Always the scholar, aren't you?" asked Brom

Jeod shrugged. "Not anymore. I'm afraid I've degeneratd into a bibliophile."

"A what?" asked Eragon.

"One who loves books," explained Jeod, and resumed conversing with Brom. Bored, Eragon scanned the shelves. An elegant book set with gold studs caught his attention. He pulled it off the shelf and stared at it curiously.

It was bound in black leather carved with runes from the ancient language like mother's journal. Eragon ran his fingers over the cover and he seemed to savor its cool smoothness. After a minute or two Eragon took the book to Brom. "What is this?" he asked, pointing to the page.

Brom looked at the page closely and raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Jeod, you've expanded your collection. Where did you get this? I haven't seen one in ages."

Jeod strained his neck to see the book. "Ah yes, the Domiia abr Wyrda. A man came through here a few years ago and tried to sell it to a trader down by the wharves. Fortunately, I happened to be there and was able to save the book, along with his neck. He didn't have a clue what it was."

"It's odd, Eragon, that you should pick up this book, the Dominance of Fate," said Brom. "Of all the items in this house, it's probably worth the most. It details a complete history of Alagaësia--starting long before the elves landed here and ending a few decades ago. The book is very rare and is the best of its kind. When it was written, the Empire decried it as blasphemy and burned the author, Heslant the Monk. I didn't think any copies still existed. The lettering you asked about is from the ancient language."

"What does it say?" asked Eragon.

It took Brom a moment to read the writing. "It's part of an elven poem that tells of the years they fought the dragons. This excerpt describes one of their Kings, Ceranthor, as he rides into battle. The elves love this poem and tell it regularly--though you need three days to do it properly--so that they won't repeat the mistakes of the past. At times they sing it so beautifully it seems the very rocks will cry."

Eragon returned to his chair, holding the book gently.

Eragon browsed through the book while Brom and Jeod spoke. After an hour my eyes started to droop and soon my head leant forward and I was asleep.

The dream was like the last one that involved the dwarf or at least I think that's what he was, but this time there were more and there was a man wearing a grey robe, with a grey hat to go with it. We were in some sort of dining room, looking at a map of some mountain that had a dragon drawn on the side. They were talking about a key for some hidden door in the mountain. One of them addressed the dark haired one as Thorin. Suddenly the room started to spin and blur and I was back in the study being woken up by Eragon. I bolted up out of my seat, the book I had been reading clattering to the floor. My breaths coming out in pants as I tried to control it and make it steady again, my skin felt clamy and my vision still blurred slightly. When it finally cleared Brom, Eragon, and Jeod were both standing by me, it was at that point that I realized that I was not standing and my whole body felt like it was trembling.

"Lyalle are you alright?" asked Brom and I could only give him a look of confusion. I wanted to say I was fine but I was starting to get scared that I possibly might not be. The dreams never scared me, just confused me; but every time I've woken up from all three dreams so far, I've had similar reactions like this one. Just less violent. Eragon seemed to come to the conclusion that I didn't know and told Brom so.

"Alright then. Let's get you into bed, you and Eragon are both tired anyways."

I gave a slow and shaky nod while Eragon helped me stand, and continued to support me up since I'm pretty sure that if he let go, my face would more than likely get to personally say hi to the floor.

Jeod bid us good night since Brom and Eragon seemed to have me handled. "The butler will show you to your rooms."

On the way upstairs, the servant said, "If you need assistance, use the bellpull next to the bed." He stopped before a cluster of three doors, bowed, then backed away. Both Brom and Eragon got me into bed and checked to make sure that I would be alright until morning. I nodded to them and they left.

I was still too tired to fight sleep and as my eyelids drifted closed I vaguely heard Eragon ask Brom if he could talk to him. Then sleep over took me. Everything was dark almost like a dreamless sleep when things suddenly started to swirl. I hope the waking up part isn't bad this time. Once everything was in focus I noticed that I was on a wooded path riding a horse. Then I noticed how I wasn't exactly looking anywhere but up and I seemed to be wrapped up and held in a blanket. I was confused and for some reason I started to whimper. But that only confused me more, I don't remember a single time in my life where I had made any vocal noise at all. At the sound of my whimper a woman looked down at me in her arms. She smiled and gave a small laugh. "I see you've finally woke up my little baby. Did you have a nice nap?"

I gave a giggle and started reaching for her hair and that's when I saw my hand. It was a newborns hand and not the size my hands are supposed to be. Another woman rode up next to us, I could only assume the one holding me was my mother. My mother turned to her "Yes Selena?"

"Are you sure they won't be able to catch up to us?"

"No I'm not sure but I hope we can put enough distance between us that at least you and Lyalle could get away while I hold them off. I'm sorry I came with you at the last second Selena. If you had been able to go on your own they would not be pursuing you with such vehemence."

"It's not your fault Star. After what you over heard you had just as much of a right to want to get him away from his father. I can't let my unborn son be hurt by my husband either, that's why I must take him to my brother Garrow."

My mother nodded at her and now I know for certain that this was Eragon's mother as well as my own making their way to Carvahall.

"I wish I could have brought Murtagh with us."

"I know Selena but if they catch up with us and he is with us, they would kill him immediately. At least he has a chance of survival at the castle, even if it is a slim chance." They both fell silent and I suppose little baby me decided to observe both of them. From what I could tell Selena was a female version of Eragon but in more lavish clothing and with her hair in a net of pearls. Then I turned back to my mother and while my hands tried to continuously play with her hair I also saw how it was very long and wavy and in the moonlight appeared to be white or silver. When she looked back down to smile at me once again I saw that her eyes were most definitely silver. Mother was dressed in more appropriate traveling clothes. Suddenly she turned around as if she had heard something and then she climbed off the horse who I could now see was in fact Stardust. I wasn't sure how in the world the horse could be so old but it was definitely her. Mother handed the reins to Selena.

"Selena, riders are coming up from behind us. Take Stardust and hide up the rode in the thicket."

She nodded. "What about Lyalle?"

"As long as his father or Morzan aren't with them we'll both be fine."

"And if they are?"

"I'll fight tooth and nail to get Lyalle to you and you both can run while I hold them off as long as I can."

I couldn't see Selena's reaction but I assumed she nodded since I could hear retreating hoof beats on the path and not long after they couldn't be heard, I could hear some coming up from behind us. My mother shifted me in her arms and hid me under her cloak more than I was before so that I was hidden from sight more. She continued to walk as if she had been doing so since the beginning and had never stopped in the first place. Mother moved to the side to let the horses pass without getting in their way. It seemed that they would just pass us without a problem when a man in a dark and regal looking cloak looked behind him and right at my mothers face. He slowed his horse to a stop and turned to face her with what was probably meant to be a charming smile but even 'past me' here felt fear at this look he was giving us. Mother had also stopped and I could tell it was from fear. Something told me that this man was either my father or he was the man Morzan that mother mentioned.

"Star my dear why are you so far out here?"

"I am taking Lyalle away from you so you can not hurt him because of some prophecy that may not come to pass."

"You're right. It will not come to pass because I will not allow it to."

"I refuse to let you...."

Something had blasted mother back and caught me in their arms at the same time. Young me started to whimper as the man with the cloak looked down at me. I could hear mother struggling to get away from the guards and many of them cried out as she struck, clawed, and bit at them as they tried to restrain her. The man ran a hand over my head and young me calmed slightly at the gentle action.

"Hello my son. I am sorry I must do this but I cannot let your voice be my downfall."

I was confused by what he meant by downfall but then I saw movement in the corner of my eye as he raised a dagger and placed it against my neck. If I wasn't still alive in the present time I would be more terrified than I already was, but I never knew the entire details of what happened and it was horrifying to witness it. The knife slid across my throat and I felt the pain; he did not stop either, he was making more incisions almost like a healer would to remove something from a wound that was too deep to reach from the surface of the wound. That's when I realized that he must have been trying to open my throat so that he could prevent me from ever speaking. I heard a cry in the ancient language and my father was sent flying and I remained in the air, struggling to breath. I felt my mothers arms scoop me out of the air as she started to run and heal my neck at the same time. I was confused as to why she didn't wait to heal me after we caught up with Selena, but then I remembered what she said about giving me to Selena and holding off the people long enough for us to get away. When we reached the thicket mother put me in Selena's arms and told her to ride as fast as possible and to not look back. Selena held me close and rode off swiftly while we could both hear the sounds of fighting. Everything started to swirl and blur again and I woke up to falling out of the bed with a thud. I laid there panting, trying to fight off the nausea and dizziness that threaten to knock me out again.

Chapter 10: Visiting the Dragons, Making New Friends, and Thieves in the Castle.

Notes:

Conversations with just " " are people speaking out loud. Conversations with ' ' and italicized are written conversations. Conversations that are both bold and italicized are mental conversations. With this out of the way I hope you enjoy the story.

Image is from Pinterest.

It took over an hour before I dared move at all. I still stumbled when I first stood up and made my way over to the water basin by the window. I splashed my face with the cold water, trying to cool off and get rid of some of the sweat. I looked out the window after drying my face off and saw that it was still too early for Eragon to be up but late enough that Brom and Jeod were more than likely gone by now; the Dragons are more than likely awake and probably hiding wherever Eragon visited them at yesterday.

I grabbed my satchel, then I was out the door and heading for the same gate Eragon had used last night to go visit them.

Once outside the gate I contacted Midnight.

"Where are you two hiding at?"

"Do not worry about that. I will guide you to our location. Also you are not allowed to climb like Eragon tried to yesterday."

"Very well, but what do you mean by climb?"

"You'll see soon enough."

After that Midnight guided me off the road, to the base of a mossy cliff surrounded by maples.

She instructed me on how to get to a clearing from there and once I was on her back, she flew us to the top of the cliff where Saphira was waiting.

"Hello Lyalle. Did Eragon not come with you?"

"No. Sorry Saphira, I left before he woke up. This is the first time you've actually talked to me. Does this mean you'll be okay with more future conversations?"

"Of course. But me and Midnight can tell that something is troubling you, what is it."

I directed my thoughts to both of them.

"I had a dream last night, at least I think it can possibly be a dream; perhaps a memory that I didn't know I had."

Both of them looked at me and Saphira asked. "What was it about?"

"It was about the night mine and Eragon's mother headed for Carvahall. The same night I lost the ability to speak. Unlike Eragon's mother Selena, I don't think mine ever made it to Uncle Garrow. She made Selena take me and held off the people chasing us for as long as she could I assume. I'm not entirely sure to be honest though. The dream stopped as Selena was riding away with me in her arms."

"Something else is still troubling you isn't it?"

"Yes. I saw the person who was supposed to be my father cutting my throat so that I would never speak."

Midnights eyes narrowed dangerously as if she was already plotting his death but didn't want to unnerve me by doing so out loud to me and Saphira. Saphira on the other hand was a lot less silent about it.

Her tail hit the ground and she gave off a low growl.

"How dare this man hurt you in such a way. If I ever lay eyes on him I will rip him into shreds! Do not worry Lyalle, neither me nor Midnight will ever allow this vile man to hurt you."

"Thank you Saphira. Thank you Midnight."

They both gave a dragon smile to me before they snaked their heads around me in a semi hug while I put an arm over each neck.

Midnight set both of her silver eyes on me.

"You are welcome little one. I wish you could stay longer but it might be best to not be out here for very long. Even if the sun isn't going down anytime soon."

"You're right Midnight. Besides I want to be close to the house for when Brom and Jeod get back. Also Saphira will you tell Eragon what I told you guys, I'm not sure if I can repeat it a second time?"

"Of course."

"Thank you."

"You are welcome."

"Climb on and I'll take you to the bottom little one."

"Ok Midnight."

I climbed onto her back and she deposited me on the ground below. Once there I ran back to the gates and as quickly as I could made my way back to Jeod's. The sun seemed to somehow be past noon though I wasn't sure how so much time had already gone by. I was going to go inside to wait for them but then I saw that Angela's shop was open. I decided to go in there and look around.

At first when I entered, the store was so dark I couldn't see anything. Soon my eyes adjusted though and I looked around. A colorful bird with wide tail feathers and a sharp, powerful beak looked at me inquisitively from a cage near the window. The walls were covered with plants; vines clung to the ceiling, obscuring all but an old chandelier, and on the floor was a large pot with a yellow flower. A collection of mortars, pestles, metal bowls, and a clear crystal ball the size of more than likely mine or Eragon's head rested on a long counter. I walked to the counter, carefully stepping around complex machines, crates of rocks, piles of scrolls, and other objects that I did not recognize. The wall behind the counter was covered with drawers of every size. Some of them were no longer than my smallest finger, while others were big enough for a barrel. There was a foot-wide gap in the shelves far above.

A pair of red eyes suddenly flashed from the dark space, and a large, fierce cat leapt onto the counter. I jumped back at first before continuing to look it over. It had a lean body with powerful shoulders and oversized paws. A shaggy mane surrounded its angular face; its ears were tipped with black tufts. White fangs curved down over its jaw. Altogether, it did not look like any cat I had ever seen. It inspected me with shrewd eyes, then flicked its tail dismissively. The way it looked reminded me of a description of a creature called a were cat that I found in my mothers book. Without much thought I reached out with my mind gently and asked. "Are you a were cat?"

It started to purr. "Ah finally someone with intelligence. The other boy who left not long ago lacked the sense of knowing I was one."

"That's not very nice to say about someone."

"Perhaps not. But I do believe you know this person. Another dragon Rider that's traveling with you."

"If that's the case, please don't insult Eragon's intelligence. He's actually very smart, but he wasn't formally taught, neither was I; there's many things we both don't know and many things that one of us will know, while the other doesn't."

"Very well. I will concede that he is still very intelligent for his age and lack of experience."

"Thank you. What is your name?"

"My name is Solembum. Your friend already told us your name but I would like to hear it from you, so what is your name?"

"My name is Lyalle."

"It's been interesting to meet you Lyalle."

"I've enjoyed meeting you as well Solembum."

He purred slightly at me, but then we both heard the shop door open and his purring got louder. I thought perhaps it might have been that Angela woman since this was her shop and started to turn around.

But that's when I felt a hand touch my forehead and my vision started to fade as I slumped into the person's arms. My eyes just barely remaining open long enough to see the outlines of what appeared to be a red cloak.



I felt someone shaking me and I could hear Solembum purring next to my head. When I opened my eyes I was on the shops floor and Angela was looking down at me with slight concern.

"Are you alright there boy?"

I gave a hesitant nod.

"Solembum, how did I end up on the floor?"

"A customer didn't want you to see them and casted a small sleep spell. Typically they would have just waited for you to leave on your own but they were apparently crunched for time as they called it."

"Thank you for telling me."

"You are welcome."

I looked towards Angela and gave a sheepish 'sorry I passed out on your floor' smile.

She gave a laugh.

"Oh don't worry about a thing, you're not the first person that's happened to." A thoughtful look came across her face. "You know I offered your friend Eragon the option to have his fortune told because he could talk to Solembum. Would you like yours told as well?"

I shook my head and smiled.

"Well alright. Not everyone is ready for their future and I'm glad you've shown wisdom of not wanting to know it. Though I have a feeling that there's another reason you say no to this. I won't keep you any longer though."

I smiled at her again and stood up completely, retrieving my satchel from where it had somehow fallen off of me and to the floor.

As I was about to leave Solembum prodded towards me.

"Listen closely and I will tell you two things. When the time comes and you need a weapon, look under the roots of the Menos tree. Then, when all seems lost and your power is insufficient, go to the rock of Kuthian and speak your name to open the Vault of Souls."

Before I could get more details from him he walked back over to Angela. "Like I told your brother Eragon. I don't know what he said, and I don't want to know. He spoke to you and only you. Don't tell anyone else."

I nodded and then waved at Angela and Solembum as I walked back out the door and to Jeod's house.

As I was about to go into the house I noticed a flower shop and thought that maybe Helen would like some to cheer her up. I stepped inside the shop and got a few daffodils and lilies for her. Then I returned to the house. I found Helen in the kitchen area and gently tapped her shoulder. She spun around like she was expecting to yell at someone but then her eyes caught sight of the flowers and she grew confused.

"Yes?"

I handed the flowers to her and she took them.

"For me, but why?"

I pointed at her and then made a smiling motion with my hands. She seemed to actually guess the message, because the next thing she did was smile.

"Thank you Lee."

I nodded and smiled at her again before I went to find out if Brom and Jeod were in the study again or not. They were, but Brom looked annoyed or possibly irritated about something so I guessed that their own mission didn't go as planned. I tapped Brom's shoulder and smiled reassuringly when he looked up, he sighed but then smiled as well.

"Hello there Lyalle."

I smiled and waved at him and Jeod.

"So how was your day boy?"

I gave him a thumbs up and then grew a thoughtful expression.

I mouthed "Did you know my father?"

He grew a somber and thoughtful expression of his own. "Not really I'm afraid, though I've heard much about him. Why do you ask?"

I looked around until I saw some paper and pointed at it.

Brom nodded. "Jeod, is it alright if Lyalle uses the paper from your desk?"

"Of course. Let me find the ink and quil for you real quick."

I nodded and sat down at the desk while Brom positioned himself into a comfortable standing position behind me so that he could see what I wrote. Jeod brought the ink and quil over once he found it and handed it to me.

I wrote about the dream and what had happened. Once finished I looked at Brom, "You don't see him in me do you?"

"No. I see a boy who's shyness embarrasses him quite easily and hates to have all the attention in a room placed on him. I'm not sure what this prophecy was supposed to be though and that has me confused. But I ask you this, do you see him as your father?"

I shook my head no.

"Did he raise you?"

I shook my head no again, getting slightly confused at what he was getting at.

"Then besides blood, what really makes this man your father?"

"Nothing." I mouthed to him.

"Exactly my boy. The man may be blood but he is not your father or your family unless you choose to see him that way."

Understanding finally clicked and I nodded with a smile while he gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze before going back to smoking his pipe by the fire. I sat back and just watched the color changing smoke rings. Brom's irritation seemed to return from whatever he was thinking of again and I assumed that it was once again the man they went to see. I grabbed the Domia abr Wyrda and sat down to start reading it. Before long Eragon came in and saw Brom by the fire and me in the arm chair again.

"Are you alright Lyalle? Saphira told me what you dreamed about last night."

"I'm alright now. Though whoever that man was by name, I can feel it to be true that he is my blood though not my father as far as I'm concerned. He did not raise me. That was Uncle Garrow and Aunt Marian. Blood does not make family. Even Brom said so."

He nodded with a smile and turned to Brom.

"How did it go?" asked Eragon before I could warn him not to do that yet.

"Bloody awful!" growled Brom around his pipe.

"So you talked to Brand?"

Oh yeah that's who they were going to talk to, I might have forgotten his name if it wasn't obvious.

"Not that it did any good. This administrator of trade is the worst sort of bureaucrat. He abides by every rule, delights in making his own whenever it can inconvenience someone, and at the same time believes that he's doing good."

"Then he won't let us see the records?" asked Eragon.

"No," snapped Brom, exasperated. "Nothing I could say would sway him. He even refused bribes! Substantial ones, too. I didn't think I would ever meet a noble who wasn't corrupt. Now that I have, I find that I prefer them when they're greedy bastards." He puffed furiously on his pipe and mumbled a steady stream of curses.

When he seemed to once again actually calm down and remain calm, Eragon asked tentatively, "So, what now?"

"I'm going to take the next week and teach you how to read."

"And after that?"

A smile split Brom's face. "After that, we're going to give Brand a nasty surprise." Eragon pestered him for details, but Brom refused to say more and I just shook my head and smiled.

Dinner was held in a sumptuous dining room. Jeod sat at one end of the table, a hard-eyed Helen at the other, though she was actually only giving a hard stare to the other three. She gave me a small smile and I returned it. Other than that she remained silent. Brom, Eragon, and I were seated between them, which Eragon felt was a dangerous place to be. Empty chairs were on either side of us, but we didn't mind the space. It helped shield Eragon from Helen's glares.

The food was served quietly, and Jeod and Helen wordlessly began eating. The rest of us followed suit as well. You could definitely feel the resentment coming from Helen throughout dinner.

From then on Eragon was spending his days becoming literate. I kept visiting the dragons and I even talked with Angela and Solembum from time to time. I even got to know Helen a bit better, I thought she was really nice. She asked why I always wore the scarf so I untied it and showed her. Even if I was a little self conscious about it, she didn't try to say anything like "I'm sorry that, that happened" or "You poor thing, are you alright?" She just nodded at the sight of it and continued talking more about her father and what she knew about merchants. I just smiled and listened, I think she would have done really well if she had been the one to become a merchant instead of Jeod.

Before dinner Brom, Eragon, and I would go behind Jeod's house and spar. The servants, along with a small crowed of wide-eyed children, would come and watch. Saphira and Midnight had to hunt leagues away from Teirm so that they wouldn't arouse suspicion.

Every day more grim news poured into Teirm. Arriving merchants told of horrific attacks along the coast. There were reports of powerful people disappearing from their houses in the night and their mangled corpses being discovered in the morning. Eragon and I often heard Brom and Jeod discussing the events in an undertone, but they always stopped when we came near.

The days passed quickly, and soon a week had gone by. Eragon's skills were rudimentary, but he can now read whole pages without asking Brom's help. He read slowly, but I was glad that he understood that speed would come with time. Brom encouraged him and so did I, though Brom's was a bit different than mine. "No matter, you'll do fine for what I have planned."

It was afternoon when Brom summoned both Jeod and Eragon to the study. I was already in there reading Domia abr Wyrda again. Brom gestured at Eragon. "Now that you can help us, I think it's time to move ahead."

"What do you have in mind?" asked Eragon.

A fierce smile danced on Brom's face and I had a bad feeling about this plan all of a sudden, even if it does end up working. Jeod groaned. "I know that look; it's what got us into trouble in the first place."

"A slight exaggeration," said Brom, "but not unwarranted. Very well, this is what we'll do. . . ."



"We should be leaving tonight or tomorrow morning, Midnight."

"Very well. We will be ready in case you need help."

"I'm glad to hear. I think that more than likely it'll be tomorrow before we see each other."

"Very well. Until tomorrow then. I love you little one, so be careful."

"I love you too Midnight. We'll try to be careful."

"Good. Now get some rest little one. You'll need it for tonight."

"I know. Good night or um sleep tight Midnight."

"Sleep tight little one." She chuckled before severing the connection.

I soon fell asleep and thankfully there were no dreams this time.



When I woke from the nap there was a golden sunset outside the window. Red and orange beams of light stream into the room and fell across the bed. The sun felt warm and I felt like a flower trying to soak it in. When the light disappeared and the room became cold I sat up and looked out the window to see the sun sink below the horizon, lighting the sea and sky with color. It was almost time to go. I strapped the sheath to mom's sword to my belt. Then I waited for the light to disappear in the sky. After that I entered the hallway and waited for the others. Eragon soon entered the hallway and shrugged so the quiver settled comfortably across his back. Brom joined us, carrying his sword and staff.

Jeod, dressed in a black doublet and hose, was waiting for us outside. From his waist swung an elegant rapier and a leather pouch. Brom eyed the rapier and observed, "That toad sticker is too thin for any real fighting. What will you do if someone comes after you with a broadsword or a flamberge?"

"Be realistic," said Jeod. "None of the guards has a flamberge. Besides, this toad sticker is faster than a broadsword."

Brom shrugged. "It's your neck."

We walked casually along the street, avoiding watchmen and soldiers. Eragon was tensed and I wasn't much better but I took a deep breath and calmed my nerves as best as I could. As we passed Angela's shop, a flash of movement on the roof caught both mine and Eragon's attention, but we saw no one. Since the movement came from on top of Angela's shop I assumed it was her or Solembum.

Brom led us along Teirm's outer wall. By the time we reached the castle, the sky was black. The sealed walls of the fortress made Eragon and I shiver. I would hate to be imprisoned there. Jeod silently took the lead and strode up to the gates, trying to look at ease. He pounded on the gate and waited.

A small grille slid open and a surly guard peered out. "Ya?" he grunted shortly. I could smell rum on his breath and I was certain that Eragon could too.

"We need to get in," said Jeod.

The guard peered at Jeod closer. "Wha' for?"

"These boy's here left something very valuable in my office. We have to retrieve it immediately." Eragon and I hung our heads, shamed faced.

The guard frowned, clearly impatient to get back to his bottle.

"Ah, wha'ever," he said, swinging his arm. "Jus' make sure 'n give 'em a good beating f'r me."

"I'll do that," assured Jeod as the guard unbolted a small door set into the gate. We entered the keep, then Brom handed the guard a few coins.

"Thank'ee," mumbled the man, tottering away. As soon as he was gone, Eragon pulled his bow from it's tube and strung it. Jeod quickly let us into the main part of the castle. We hurried toward our destination, listening carefully for any soldiers on patrol. At the records room, Brom tried the door. It was locked. He put his hand against the door and muttered the word for unlocking in the anctient language. It swung open with a faint click. Brom grabbed a torch from the wall, and we darted inside, closing the door quietly.

The squat room was filled with wooden racks piled high with scrolls. A barred window was set in the far wall. Jeod threaded his way between the racks, running his eyes over the scrolls. He halted at the back of the room. "Over here," he said. "These are the shipping records for the past five years. You can tell the date by the wax seals on the corner."

"So what do we do now?" asked Eragon, we were both pleased that we had made it so far without being discovered.

"Start at the top and work down," said Jeod. "Some scrolls only deal with taxes. You can ignore those. Look for anything that mentions Seithr oil." He took a length of parchment from his pouch and stretched it out on the floor, then set a bottle of ink and a quill pen next to it. "So we can keep track of whatever we find," he explained.

Brom scooped an armful of scrolls from the top of the rack and piled them on the floor. He sat and unrolled the first one. Eragon joined him, positioning himself so he could see the door. I grabbed my own armful and sat near the window and started the long tedious task.

By looking only for the names of ships that sailed in the northern areas, we windowed out many of the scrolls. Even so, we moved down the rack slowly, recording each shipment of Seithr oil as we located it.

It was quiet outside the room, except for the occasional watchman. Suddenly, my neck prickled. I tried to keep working, but the uneasy feeling remained. Right when I looked up to look around, I noticed Eragon do the same before jerking with a surprise--I turned around and also stopped in surprise. A small boy crouched on the windowsill. His eyes were slanted, and a sprig of holly was woven into his shaggy black hair.

"Do you need help?" Asked the boy and then I realized who it was.

Solembum seemed to be talking to Eragon for a second before tilting his head about something. Then he turned his head toward me with a toothy smile.

"Don't forget to lock the door."

I nodded "Thank you Solembum."

He nodded to me as well before he disappeared.

Eragon announced abruptly, "There are soldiers looking for us."

"How do you know?" asked Brom sharply.

"I listened in on the guard. His replacement just sent men to search for us. We have to get out of here. They've probably already discovered that Jeod's office is empty."

"Are you sure?" asked Jeod.

"Yes!" said Eragon impatiently. "They're on their way."

Brom snatched another scroll from the rack. "No matter. We have to finish this now!" We worked furiously for the next few minutes, scanning the records as fast as we could. As the last scroll was finished, Brom threw it back onto the rack, and Jeod jammed his parchment, ink, and pen into his pouch. Eragon grabbed the torch.

We raced from the room and shut the door, but just as it closed, we all heard the lock click and turned to leave when we heard the heavy tramp of soldier's boots at the end of the hall.

I quickly put my hand to the door handle. "Laesa du hurdh."

We heard the lock click and then turned to leave, but that's when the soldiers came around the corner.

"Hey! Get away from that door!" shouted one of them. I stepped back behind Brom, knowing he would probably have to be the one to talk us out of this situation; Brom's face assumed a surprised expression. The three men marched up to us. The tallest one demanded, "Why are you trying to get into the records?" I saw Eragon grip his bow tighter and prepare to run. After years of watching him hunt I've grown accustomed to noticing when he was preparing to run.

"I'm afraid we lost our way." The strain was evident in Jeod's voice. A drop of sweat rolled down his neck.

The soldier glared at us suspiciously. "Check inside the room," he ordered one of his men.

Eragon held his breath and although I was certain I said the locking spell correctly, I couldn't help but do the same. The soldier stepped up to the door, tried to open it, then pounded on it with his mailed fist. "It's locked, sir."

The leader scratched his chin. "Ar'right, then. I don't know what you were up to, but as long as the door's locked, I guess you're free to go. Come on." The soldiers surrounded us and marched us back to the keep.

I think Eragon might have been surprised that the soldiers were basically helping us get away.

At the main gates, the soldier pointed and said, "Now, you walk through those and don't try anything. We'll be watching. If you have to come back, wait until morning."

"Of course," promised Jeod.

I could feel the guard's eyes boring into our backs as we hurried out of the castle. The moment that the gates closed behind us, a triumphant grin stretched across Eragon's face, I managed to grab his arm before he jumped into the air. Brom noticed and shot him a cautioning look and growled, "Walk back to the house normally. You can celebrate there."

Chastised, Eragon adopted a staid demeanor, but inside I could tell he still bubbled with energy. Once we had hurried back to the house and into the study, Eragon exclaimed, "We did it!"

I jumped at his outburst but smiled and shook my head before high-fiving him.

"Yes, but now we have to figure out if it was worth the trouble," said Brom. Jeod took a map of Alagaësia from the shelves and unrolled it on the desk.

On the left side of the map, the ocean extended to the unknown west. Along the coast stretched the Spine, an immense length of mountains. The Hadarac Desert filled the center of the map--the east end was blank. Somewhere in that void hid the Varden. To the south was Surda, a small country that had seceded from the Empire after the Riders' fall. Eragon and I had been told that Surda secretly supported the Varden.

Near Surda's eastern border was a mountain range labeled Beor Mountains. Eragon and I had heard of them in many stories--they were supposed to be ten times the height of the Spine, though I think Eragon believed that was an exaggeration. The map was empty to the east of the Beors.

Five islands rested off the coast of Surda: Nía, Parlim, Uden, Illium, and Beirland. Nía was no more than an outcropping of rock, but Beirland, the largest, had a small town. Farther up, near Teirm, was a jagged island called Sharktooth. And high to the north was one more island, immense and shapped like a knobby hand. I knew its name without even looking: Vroengard, the ancestral home of the Riders--once a place of glory, but now a looted, empty shell haunted by strange beasts. In the center of Vroengard was the abandoned city of Dorú Areaba.

Carvahall was a small dot at the top of Palancar Valley. Level with it, but across the plains sprawled the forest Du Weldenvarden. Like the Beor Mountains, its eastern end was unmapped. Parts of Du Weldenvarden's western edge had been settled, but its heart lay mysterious and unexplored. The forest was wilder than the Spine; the few who braved its depths often came back raving mad, or not at all.

Eragon and I shivered as we saw Urû'baen.

King Galbatorix ruled from there with his black dragon, Shruikan, by his side. Eragon put his finger on Urû'baen. "The Ra'zac are sure to have a hiding place here."

"You had better hope that that isn't their only sanctuary," said Brom flatly. "Otherwise you'll never get near them." He pushed the rustling map flat with his wrinkled hands.

Jeod took the parchment out of his pouch and said, "From what I saw in the records, there have been shipments of Seithr oil to every major city in the Empire over the past five years. As far as I can tell, all of them might have been ordered by wealthy jewellers. I'm not sure how we can narrow down the list without more information."

Brom swept a hand over the map. "I think we can eliminate some cities. The Ra'zac have to travel wherever the king wants, and I'm sure he keeps them busy. If they're expected to go anywhere at anytime, the only reasonable place for them to stay is at a crossroads where they can reach every part of the country fairly easily."  He was excited now and paced the room. "This crossroads has to be large enough so the Ra'zac will be inconspicuous. It also has to have enough trade so any unusual requests--special food for their mounts, for example--will go unnoticed."

"That makes sense," said Jeod, nodding. "Under those conditions, we can ignore most of the cities in the north. The only big ones are Teirm, Gil'ead, and Ceunon. I know they're not in Teirm, and I doubt that the oil has been shipped farther up the coast to Marfa--it's too small. Ceunon is too isolated . . . only Gil'ead remains."

"The Ra'zac might be there," conceded Brom. "It would have a certain irony."

"It would at that," Jeod acknowledged softly.

"What about southern cities?" asked Eragon.

"Well," said Jeod. "There's obviously Urû'baen, but that's an unlikely destination. If someone were to die from Seithr oil in Galbatorix's court, it would be all too easy for an earl or some other lord to discover that the Empire had been buying large amounts of it. That still leaves many others, any one of which could be the one we want."

"Yes," said Eragon, "but the oil wasn't sent to all of them. The parchment only lists Kuasta, Dras-Leona, Aroughs, and Belatona. Kuasta wouldn't work for the Ra'zac; it's on the coast and surrounded by mountains. Aroughs is isolated like Ceunon, though it is a center of trade. That leaves Belatona and Dras-Leona, which are rather close together. Of the two, I think Dras-Leona is the likelier. It's large and better situated."

"And that's where nearly all the goods of the Empire pass through at one time or another, including Teirm's," said Jeod. "It would be a good place for the Ra'zac to hide."

"So . . . Dras-Leona," said Brom as he sat down and lit his pipe. "What do the records show?"

Jeod looked at the parchment. "Here it is. At the beginning of the year, three shipments of Seithr oil were sent to Dras-Leona. Each shipment was only two weeks apart, and the records say they were all transported by the same merchant. The same thing happened last year and the year before that. I doubt any one jeweler, or group of them, has the money for so much oil."

"What about Gil'ead?" asked Brom, raising an eyebrow.

"It doesn't have the same access to the rest of the Empire. And," Jeod tapped the parchment, "they've only received the oil twice in recent years." He thought for a moment, then said, "Besides, I think we forgot something---Helgrind."

Brom nodded. "Ah yes, the Dark Gates. It's been many years since I've thought of it. You're right, that would make Dras-Leona perfect for the Ra'zac. I guess it's decided, then; that's where we'll go."

I looked over at Eragon and noticed he seemed drained. Dras-Leona is quite far I'll admit, but I still have a bad feeling about what will happen once we get there. None the less I put my hand on Eragon's shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile. I could tell he tried to return it but we were all tired.

The parchment cracked as Jeod slowly rolled up the map. He handed it to Brom and said, "You'll need this, I'm afraid. Your expeditions often take you into obscure regions." Nodding, Brom accepted the map. Jeod clapped him on the shoulder. "It doesn't feel right that you will leave without me. My heart expects to go along, but the rest of me reminds me of my age and responsibilities."

"I know," said Brom. "But you have a life in Teirm. It is time for the next generation to take up the standard. You've done your part; be happy."

"What of you?" asked Jeod. "Does the road ever end for you?"

A hollow laugh escaped Brom's lips. "I see it coming, but not for a while." He extinguished his pipe, and we all left for our rooms, exhausted. Before I fell asleep, I informed Midnight of all that had transpired tonight. Afterwards she bid me goodnight and I went to sleep.

Chapter 11: A Costly Mistake and Hunting Urgals Part 1.

Notes:

Conversations with just " " are people speaking out loud. Conversations with ' ' and italicized are written conversations. Conversations that are both bold and italicized are mental conversations. With this out of the way I hope you enjoy the story.

Picture was found on Pinterest.

In the morning Eragon, Brom, and I retrieved our saddlebags from the stable and prepared to depart. Jeod greeted Brom while Helen watched from the doorway. I smiled and gave a small wave to her, one that she surprisingly returned. With grave looks, the two men clasped hands. "I'll miss you, old man," said Jeod.

"And I you," said Brom thickly. He bowed his white head and then turned to Helen. "Thank you for your hospitality; it was most gracious." Her face reddened and I couldn't help but wonder if she would smack Brom or not. Brom continued, unperturbed, "You have a good husband; take care of him. There are few men as brave and as determined as he is. But even he cannot weather difficult times without support from those he loves." He bowed again and said gently, "Only a suggestion, dear lady."

Eragon and I watched as indignation and hurt crossed Helen's face. Her eyes flashed as she shut the door brusquely. Sighing, Jeod ran his fingers through his hair. I smiled my thanks to him, while Eragon vocally thanked him for all his help, then he mounted Cadoc while I climbed onto Stardust. With the last farewells said, the three of us departed.

At Teirm's south gate, the guards let us through without a second glance. As we rode under the giant outer wall, I saw movement in the shadows; movement that seemed to catch Eragon's attention as well. Solembum was crouched on the ground, tail twitching. The werecat followed us with inscrutable eyes and I smiled at him as we passed by. As the city receded into the distance, Eragon asked, "What are werecats?"

Brom looked surprised at the question. "Why the sudden curiosity?"

"I heard someone mention them in Teirm. They're not real, are they?" said Eragon, obviously pretending ignorance since Solembum said that he met him. Though that does remind me that I forgot to talk to him about that.

"They are quite real. During the Riders' years of glory, they were as renowned as the dragons. Kings and elves kept them as companions--yet the werecats were free to do what they chose. Very little has ever been known about them. I'm afraid that their race has become rather scarce recently."

"Could they use magic?" asked Eragon.

"No one's sure, but they could certainly do unusual things. They always seemed to know what was going on and somehow or another managed to get themselves involved. In fact the Queen herself was the last known to have a werecat companion before she and the werecat disappeared." Brom pulled his hood up to block a chill wind.

"What's Helgrind?" asked Eragon, after a moment's thought.

"You'll see when we get to Dras-Leona."

I nodded at Brom words just as Eragon gave a loud mental shout for Saphira. I turned to look at him and saw that even Cadoc was annoyed with the shout.

"Could you not have given a warning Eragon?"

Eragon looked sheepish for a second, "Sorry."

Brom looked confused but understanding dawned on him when I nodded to Eragon.

Eragon, Brom, and I watched as two dark blurs rushed from a cloud, then heard a dull roar as Saphira's and Midnight's wings flared open. The sun shone behind the thin membranes, turning them translucent and silhouetting the dark veins. They both landed with a blast of air.

Eragon tossed Cadoc's reins to Brom while I just tied mine to Brom's saddle.

"We'll join you for lunch."

Brom nodded, but seemed preoccupied. "Have a good time," he said, then Eragon turned and looked at Saphira and smiled. "It's good to see you again."

The look she gave him told me she agreed with Eragon's sentiments.

Eragon hopped onto Saphira's shoulders and held on tightly as she bounded upward. With the wind at her tail, Saphira sliced through the air.

I smiled up at Midnight, "Should we follow them or go our own path until lunch?"

"Why don't we go our own path for today little one. I'm sure Saphira can watch over Eragon, just as much as he can watch over her, without us in the back ground."

I smiled at her, which she returned as I jumped onto her back; after I climbed up her leg a little ways. Then she jumped to the air and started rising steadily until we were above the clouds and I could run my hands through one.

"Hold on Lyalle."

Out of instinct I listened but still tried to ask what she meant by that when she suddenly dive bombed out of the sky. Because of this stunt I am very glad that I listened. When I looked at the veiw I felt a mixture of vertigo and awe at what I saw. We were flying right over the ocean at a section that those from town wouldn't be able to see us from. On closer inspection, that I'm surprised took me this long, I realized I was upside down and close enough to touch the water. I reached out my hand and felt the water swirling past my fingers almost like I stuck my hand into a fast paced river instead of the ocean.

Witgout warning she flipped us back over so that we were up right and started to make her way back to Brom, though I don't think she counted on her wing scooping up any water and dumping it on us. Well she certainly seemed just as surprised as I was. After a few minutes of shocked silence she started laughing and before long I couldn't stop my own shoulders from shaking; this would certainly be an interesting story to tell the others.

By the time Midnight could see Brom it was only a few minutes till lunch and I could see Saphira coming towards us from a distance.

My legs were sore from riding bareback for so long and I felt like I was freezing from both the cold and the water. Even if it was only damp now since the wind dried it so much. Eragon gave me a confused look when he saw me and I smiled and shrugged.

"My dragon thought we both needed a saltwater bath apparently."

Eragon started laughing and told Brom what I said after he managed to calm down enough to get a complete sentence out, which just now meant that I had Brom laughing at me as well; while I got close to the fire.

As we all ate Midnight suggested I ride Stardust incase Brom had another lesson for me to learn or something important to say. I agreed and when we we're ready to set out again I climbed onto Stardust, while Eragon mounted Cadoc. Both Saphira and Midnight flew off as we started on the trail.

After a time I noticed Eragon slowed Cadoc down and he said to Brom, "I need to talk to you. I wanted to do it when we first arrived in Teirm, but I decided to wait until now."

"About what?" asked Brom.

Eragon paused. "There's a lot going on that we don't understand. For instance, who are your 'friends,' and why were you hiding in Carvahall? I trust you with our lives--which is why we're still traveling with you--but we need to know more about who you are and what you are doing. What did you steal in Gil'ead, and what is the tuatha du orothrim that you're taking us through? I think that after all that's happened, we deserve an explanation."

"You eavesdropped on us."

"Only once," said Eragon. At first I wasn't sure when this had happened but I realized that it must have been our first day in the city.

"I see that you have yet to learn propper manners," said Brom grimly, tugging on his beard. "What makes you think that this concerns either of you?"

"Nothing, really," said Eragon shrugging and I couldn't help but hope he didn't start this conversation entirely for nothing. "Just it's an odd coincidence that you happened to be hiding in Carvahall when I found Saphira's egg and Lyalle found Midnight's egg; and that you also know so much dragonlore. The more I think about it, the less likely it seems. There were other clues that I mostly ignored, but they're obvious now that I look back. Like how you knew of the Ra'zac in the first place and why they ran away when you approached. And I can't help but wonder if you had something to do with the appearance of Saphira's egg. There's a lot you haven't told us, and Saphira, Lyalle, Midnight, and I can't afford to ignore anything that might be dangerous."

Dark lines appeared on Brom's forehead as he reined Snowfire to a halt. "You won't wait?" he asked. Eragon shook his head mulishly and I had to agree with him on this situation.

Brom sighed. "This wouldn't be a problem if you weren't so suspicious, but I suppose that you wouldn't be worth my time if you were otherwise." I think Eragon was having trouble figuring out if that was a compliment or not and I was honestly just as confused on rather it was or not as well.

Brom lit his pipe and slowly blew a plume of smoke into the air. "I'll tell you," he said, "but first you have to understand that I cannot reveal everything." Eragon started to protest, but Brom cut him off. "It's not out of a desire to withhold information, but because I won't give away secrets that aren't mine. There are other stories woven in with this narrative. You'll have to talk with the others involved to find out the rest."

"Very well. Explain what you can," said Eragon and I nodded my head towards Brom in agreement.

"Are you sure?" asked Brom. "There are reasons for my scretiveness. I've tried to protect you both by shielding you from the forces that would tear you apart. Once you know of them and their purposes, you'll never have the chance to live quietly. You will have to choose sides and make a stand. Do you really want to know?"

"We cannot live our lives in ignorance," said Eragon quietly.

"A worthy goal. . . . Very well: there is a war raging in Alagaësia between the Varden and the Empire. Their conflict, however, reaches far beyond any incidental armed clashes. They are locked in a titanic power struggle. . . centered around you; and once they learn of him, Lyalle as well."

"Me?" said Eragon, disbelieving. "That's impossible. I don't have anything to do with either of them and neither does Lyalle."

"Not yet," said Brom, "but your very existence is the focus of their battles. The Varden and the Empire aren't fighting to control this land or its people. Their goal is to control the next generation of Riders, of whom you two are the first. Whoever controls these Riders will become the undisputed master of Alagaësia."

Right as Brom finished speaking, my face grew uncomfortably red and I suddenly had the desire to hide in the clouds on Midnights back for eternity instead of having all that attention on me, well it'll be on Eragon as well I suppose. So that does help, but I still want to hide on my dragons back just a little still.

Without warning Eragon started his questions again, or this time an objection. "But all the Riders were killed except for the forsworn, who joined Galbatorix. As far as I know, even those are now dead. And you told us in Carvahall that no one knows if there are still dragons in Alagaësia."

"I lied about the dragons," said Brom flatly. "Even though the Riders are gone, there are still three dragon eggs left--all of them in Galbatorix's possession. Actually there are only two now, since Saphira hatched. The king salvaged the three during his last great battle with the Riders."

"So there may soon be two new Riders, both of them loyal to the king?" asked Eragon and I could tell we both had a sinking feeling about this.

"Exactly," said Brom. "There is a deadly race in progress. Galbatorix is desperately trying to find the people for whom his eggs will hatch, while the Varden are employing every means to kill his candidates or steal the eggs."

"But where did Saphira's and Midnight's eggs come from? How could anyone have gotten Saphira's away from the king? And why do you know all of this?" asked Eragon, bewildered.

"So many questions," laughed Brom bitterly. "There is another chapter to all this, one that took place long before you were born. Back then I was a bit younger, though perhaps not as wise. I hated the Empire--for reasons I'll keep to myself--and wanted to damage it in any way I could. My fervor led me to a scholar, Jeod, who claimed to have discovered a book that showed a secret passageway into Galbatorix's castle. I eagerly brought Jeod to the Varden--who are my 'friends'--and they arranged to have the eggs stolen."

"However, something went amiss, and our thief got only one egg. For some reason he fled with it and didn't return to the Varden. When he wasn't found, Jeod and I were sent to bring him and the egg back." Brom's eyes grew distant, and he spoke in a curious voice. "That was the start of one of the greatest searches in history. We raced against the Ra'zac and Morzan, last of the Forsworn and the king's finest servant."

"Morzan!" interrupted Eragon, almost causing me to fall off of Stardust. "But he was the one who betrayed the Riders to Galbatorix!"

"So?" asked Brom, raising an eyebrow. "Yes, he was old, but strong and cruel. He was one of the king's first followers and by far his most loyal. As there had been blood between us before, the hunt for the egg turned into a personal battle. When it was located in Gil'ead, I rushed there and fought Morzan for possession. It was a terrible contest, but in the end I slew him. During the conflict I was separated from Jeod. There was no time to search for him, so I took the egg and bore it to the Varden, who asked me to train whomever became the new Rider. I agreed and decided to hide in Carvahall--which I had been to several times before--until the Varden contacted me. I was never summoned."

"Then how did Saphira's and Midnight's eggs appear in the Spine? Was another one stolen from the king?" asked Eragon.

Brom grunted. "Small chance of that. He has the remaining two guarded so thoroughly that it would be suicide to try and steal them. No, Saphira was taken from the Varden, and I think I know how. To protect the egg, its guardian must have tried to send it to me with magic. As for how Midnight came to you Lyalle, I have no answer, fore I do not know how myself."

"The Varden haven't contacted me to explain to me how they lost the egg, so I suspect that their runners were intercepted by the Empire and the Ra'zac were sent in their place. I'm sure they were quite eager to find me, as I've managed to foil many of their plans."

"Then the Ra'zac didn't know about me when they arrived in Carvahall," said Eragon with wonder.

"That's right," replied Brom. "If that ass Sloan had kept his mouth shut, they might not have found out about you. Events could have turned out quite differently. In a way I have you to thank for my life. If the Ra'zac hadn't become so preoccupied with you, they might have caught me unawares, and that would have been the end of Brom the storyteller. The only reason they ran was because I'm stronger than the two of them, especially during the day. They must have planned to drug me during the night, then question me about the egg."

"You sent a message to the Varden, telling them about me?"

"Yes. I'm sure they'll want me to bring you to them as soon as possible."

"But you're not going to, are you?"

Brom shook his head. "No, I'm not."

"Did you tell them about Lyalle?"

"Not entirely. I told them that he was family but I did not mention that he too was a Rider. If someone were to intercept the message and send it to the king, things would become even more dangerous for the both of you if he found out there are two new Riders instead of one now."

"Why not go to the Varden? Being with them must be safer than chasing after the Ra'zac, especially for a new Rider."

Brom snorted and looked at Eragon with fondness. "The Varden are dangerous people. If we go to them, you will be entangled in their politics and machinations. Their leaders may send you on missions just to make a point, even though you might not be strong enough for them. I want you both to be well prepared before you go anywhere near the Varden. At least while we pursue the Ra'zac, I don't have to worry about someone poisoning your water. This is the lesser of two evils. And," he said with a smile, "it keeps you both happy while I train you. . . .Tuatha du orothrim is just a stage in your instruction. I will help you find--and perhaps even kill--the Ra'zac, for they are as much my enemies as yours. But then you will both have to make a choice."

"And that would be. . . .?" asked Eragon warily, again I couldn't help but share his sentiments.

"Whether to join the Varden," said Brom. "If you kill the Ra'zac, the only ways for you to escape Galbatorix's wrath will be to seek the Varden's protection, flee to Surda, or plead for the king's mercy and join his forces. Even if you don't kill the Ra'zac, you will still face this choice eventually."

I could tell Eragon knew just as much as I did that the Varden would provide the best sanctuary, but I do not like the sound of fighting battle after battle for the rest of my life; nor did I like the idea of hiding in Surda like a common criminal. I knew that I would never join Galbatorix, I would rather die than do that. What I knew for certain was that wherever Eragon went, I would follow.

"You still didn't explain how you knew so much about dragons."

"No, I didn't, did I?" said Brom with a crooked smile. "That will have to wait for another time."

"Did you ever meet my mother?" he blurted.

Brom looked grave. "Yes, I did."

"What was she like?"

The old man sighed and the look in his eyes gave me the impression that he might have loved her at some point in time. "She was full of dignity and pride, like Garrow. Ultimately it was her downfall, but it was one of her greatest gifts nevertheless. . . . She always helped the poor and the less fortunate, no matter what her situation."

"You knew her well?" said Eragon, startled.

"Well enough to miss her when she was gone."



I told Midnight what Brom had informed us of. She agreed with dying before ever serving the king. She also agreed to go wherever Eragon and I went.

When we stopped for the day, Eragon and I searched for water while Brom made dinner. Eragon rubbed his hands together for warmth as he walked in a large circle, both of us listening for a creek or spring. It was gloomy and damp between the trees; Midnight didn't want to get wet a second time today so she was remaining in her smaller form and riding my shoulder.

We found a stream a ways from camp, then Eragon crouched on the bank and watched the water splash over the rocks, dipping in his fingertips. The icy mountain water swirled around his skin, probably numbing it. Then Eragon shivered and stood.

I saw an unusual print on the streams opposing bank and tugged on Eragon's sleeve to point it out to him. It was oddly shaped and very large. Curious, he jumped across the stream and onto a rock shelf. As he landed, his foot hit a patch of damp moss. He grabbed a branch for support, but it broke, and he thrust out his hand to break his fall. Midnight shot off my shoulder and hooked her claws to his shirt, while furiously flapping her wings, to slow his fall.

When he hit the ground with a softer thud then what it would have been, Midnight released him and flew back to my shoulder while I ran to his side.

"Eragon, are you okay?!"

"Yeah thanks to Midnight."

I helped pull him to his feet and then we both looked at the print now from a better angle.

The print was pressed deeply into the ground a few feet away. It was the mark of a heavy, nail-studded boot. Instantly I felt sick from the memory of the hundreds of tracks like these surrounding the pile of bodies in Yazuac. "Urgal," Eragon spat, probably wishing he had Zar'roc with him, a bow would have to do for him for now though.

I pulled out my mother's sword from its sheath. I could tell Eragon shouted with his mind, more than likely to warn Saphira to protect Brom until we got there.

We leapt back over the stream and raced toward our camp, Eragon yanking out his bow and knocking an arrow; while Midnight flew just slightly over our heads to get a better view of possible danger up ahead. We burst into the camp, me ducking into a roll while Eragon just ducked; as Saphira's tail swung overhead. "Stop. It's us!" he yelled.

I noticed her wings were folded in front of her chest like a wall and I suddenly had a feeling that I knew where Brom was.

"Oops?" growled Eragon, running to her. "You could've killed me or Lyalle! Where's Brom?"

"I'm right here," snapped Brom's voice from behind Saphira's wings. Whelp I was right about that part and he does not sound happy. "Tell your crazy dragon to release me; she won't listen to me."

"Let him go!" said Eragon, exasperated and I tried to hide behind Midnight so that neither of them would see my shaking shoulders. Midnight also seemed amused but I knew Brom wouldn't cuff her over the head. Saphira lifted her wings, and Brom stepped forward angrily.

"We found an Urgal footprint. And it's fresh."

Brom immediately turned serious. "Saddle the horses. We're leaving." He put out the fire, and me and Eragon quickly saddled the horses. Brom turned to the dragons. "It's almost dark; you might as well fly right overhead. If Urgals show up, they'll think twice about attacking with you two nearby."

"They'd better, or else they won't think again." remarked Saphira as she took off; Midnight nodding in agreement before taking off as well.

The light was disappearing quickly, and the horses were tired, but we spurred them on without respite. A mile from the camp, Brom halted. "Listen," he said.

I heard the faint call of a hunting horn behind us and I'm sure Eragon did too. I tried not to panic as the horn fell silent, but I was ultimately loosing that battle; and I looked to Brom to see what he would want us to do.

"They must have found where we were," said Brom, "and probably Saphira's tracks. They will chase us now. It's not in their nature to let prey escape."

Then two horns winded. The Urgals were closer. I tried to fight off the chill that wanted to run through me. "Our only chance is to run," said Brom. He raised his head to the sky, and his face blanked as he called Saphira and Midnight.

They both rushed out of the night sky and landed. "Leave Cadoc and Stardust. Go with them. You'll be safer," commanded Brom.

I knew he was right, but I wish we could stay and help keep him safe. "What about you?" Eragon protested.

"I'll be fine. Now go!" Eragon and I climbed onto the dragons while Brom lashed Snowfire and rode away with Cadoc and Stardust. Saphira and Midnight flew after him, flapping above the galloping horses.

The horns blared nearby while I clung to Midnight, bringing a fresh wave of terror. Brom crashed through the underbrush, forcing the horses to their limits. The horns trumpeted in unison close behind him, then were quiet.

Minutes passed. "Midnight do you hear or see the Urgals?"

"No, I'm afraid not little one."

A horn sounded, this time in the distance. I had a bad feeling about this. Eragon seemed to sigh in relief, resting against Saphira's neck, while on the ground Brom slowed his head-long rush.

"Midnight, I don't think they've given up. Quickly fly directly ten feet above Brom, I don't care if the horses are spooked!"

"Of course Lyalle."

Right as Midnight made it into position above Brom, a horn blasted directly behind us. Eragon jerked in surprise, and Brom resumed his frenzied retreat. Horned Urgals, shouting with coarse voices, barreled along the trail on horses, swiftly gaining ground. They were almost in sight of Brom; he would not be able to outrun them. Midnight stayed as close to ten feet above Brom as she could, preparing to turn around and attack the Urgals if they got within two bow shots of Brom.

Suddenly Saphira pulled ahead of the Urgals and positioned herself above the path.

As the Urgals pounded up the trail, Eragon shouted, "Now!" Saphira abruptly folded her wings and dropped straight down from above the trees, landing on the trail in a spray of dirt and rocks.

The Urgals shouted with alarm and yanked on their horse's reins. The animals went stiff-legged and collided into each other, but the Urgals quickly untangled themselves to face Saphira with bared weapons. They didn't seem to even see Midnight with how dark it was and from how dark her scales were. Hate crossed their faces as they glared at her.

There were twelve of them, all ugly, jeering brutes. I think Eragon was confused why they didn't just flee at the sight of Saphira and I was slightly confused as well.

I was surprised when the largest Urgal advanced and spat, "Our master wishes to speak with you, human!" The monster spoke in deep, rolling gutturals.

I was curious about who this master was but I also knew that I never wanted to meet him.

"Who is your master?" Eragon asked.

The Urgal sneered. "His name does not deserve to be given to one as low as yourself. He rules the sky and holds dominance over the earth. You are no more than a stray ant to him. Yet he has decreed that you shall be brought before him, alive. Take heart that you have become worthy of such notice!"

"I'll never go with you or any of my enemies!" declared Eragon. "Whether you serve Shade, Urgal, or some twisted fiend I've not heard of, I have no wish to parley with him."

"That is a grave mistake," growled the Urgal, showing his fangs.

"There is no way to escape him. Eventually you will stand before our master. If you resist, he will fill your days with agony."

"Keep your offer and tell your master that the crows can eat his entrails for all I care!"

Rage swept through the Urgals while I felt pride for Eragon swell; their leader howled, gnashing his teeth. "We'll drag you to him, then!" He waved his arm and the Urgals rushed at Saphira. Raising his right hand before I could warn him to wait for them to get closer, Eragon barked,

"Jierda!"

The monsters faltered as Eragon's palm glowed. Beams of light lanced from his hand, striking each of them in the gut. The Urgals were thrown through the air and smashed into trees, falling senseless to the ground. Fatigue suddenly drained Eragon of strength, and he tumbled off Saphira. As Saphira bent over him, I jumped off of Midnight and ran to his side as one of the Urgals staggered to his feet and started to try and sneak up on Saphira.

"Saphira behind you!"

Saphira whirled on the monster, roaring savagely. Her talons slashed with blinding speed. Blood spurred everywhere as the Urgal was rent in two.

Saphira snapped her jaws together with finality and returned to Eragon and me.

"He's barely conscious and his wrist is broken, more than likely from when he fell off of you. I'm going to put him in Midnight's saddle and strap him in. You may not like this but I need you to fly ahead and catch up with Brom and tell him everything that happened. There's some medical supplies in Stardust's saddle bag that he can get ready to use."

I could tell she didn't want to leave but she flew off after receiving a small nudge from Midnight. I would have strapped him into Saphira's saddle but she wasn't wearing it right now and he would just fall off of her.

Midnight helped me put Eragon on her back and then I climbed on behind him after strapping him in. We found Brom in a clearing with a fire going and the supplies ready. Brom helped me get him off of Midnight's back and while him and Saphira started talking about hunting down the remaining Urgals, I started fixing his wrist back into place and putting it into a splint. Midnight remained at our side while the other two left for their hunting expedition and I used what remained of the fire to make a stew for when Eragon would wake up. I knew from experience that he would be hungry.

The worst part is that now all we could do was wait for him to wake up and hopefully be okay. Midnight suggested that I get some sleep while she watched over us and I didn't have the energy to argue and fell asleep leaning against her side.

Chapter 12: Hunting Urgals Part 2 and going to Helgrind

Notes:

Conversations with just " " are people speaking out loud. Conversations with ' ' and italicized are written conversations. Conversations that are both bold and italicized are mental conversations. With this out of the way I hope you enjoy the story.

Picture found on either Google or Pinterest.

As night began to disappear and be replaced by a sunrise, I was roused from sleep by a shake to my shoulder and a soft growl from Midnight which confused me. I opened my eyes and blinked the blurriness from them to see Brom kneeling beside me. I sat up and tilted my head at him.

"How is he?"

I smiled and gave a small thumbs up before resting my head on my hands in a sleeping motion.

"So he's doing good and is just sleeping?"

I nodded.

"Good. Me and Saphira will have to leave soon to hunt the remaining six Urgals. It might be a day or two before we get back. Will you be alright that long without me here?"

I nodded and smiled with a look in my eyes that said we'd be fine.

"Alright then."

He started to turn away when a thought occurred to me and my hand shot out to grab at his sleeve, surprising him and making him turn to look at me.

"Yes?"

I wasn't sure how to convey my thought into a hand gesture so I wrote in the dirt.

' Can I talk to you mentally like I do Eragon? '

Brom gave me a soft smile, "Of course you can. Now what's on your mind?"

"I've been noticing a lot of things since we started traveling and mostly tried to ignore them and not let them get to the forefront of my mind but, you act really fatherly towards Eragon. Especially compared to Garrow who was his Uncle. And when she first met you, Midnight seemed hesitant to come near you like she sensed something off about you; especially when Saphira slightly recoiled when you first pet her. I have to ask even if I'm wrong, but are you Eragon's father and a Rider? If yes, then I won't tell him until you're ready or not knowing starts to drive him crazy. But if I'm wrong then I'm sorry for asking and possibly wasting your time."

I kept my eyes down after I finished telling him, not sure if I wanted to look up yet and see his expression.

I felt his hand on my shoulder prompting me to look up and his face seemed older than it has since I first met him all those years ago in Carvahall.

"You are correct in what you assumed Lyalle."

"Are you afraid to tell him or are you just not ready yet? "

"Perhaps I'm just not ready but I also don't want him to be distracted by this information. And yes I was a Rider."

"I assume your dragon was named Saphira as well?"

"Yes. But until the time comes I need you to swear in the ancient language that you will not tell Eragon."

"I won't tell Eragon but neither will I swear in the ancient language. For one thing even I'm not sure what words I would need to use for that, but also because if a time comes and your not here to tell him for one reason or another, I don't want him to go mad from lack of information or false information. I'm sorry Brom but I can't risk that with Eragon."

"I may not like it but I understand what you are saying. So I'll let us continue on without you swearing in the ancient language. Thank you for watching over Eragon."

I smiled. "Of course. I'll always do my best to help, protect, and keep Eragon happy. Even if he gets annoying, stubborn, and moody." 

Brom smiled as well before getting up and going back to Saphira. Midnight and I watched as they took off. Afterwards I made sure Eragon was still doing well before eating some of last night's stew. I didn't really have a lot to do so I started making Eragon more arrows and when he had more than enough started practicing that weird stretching routine that was mentioned in moms book. I couldn't quite translate its name from the ancient language. I also practiced some new sword moves that the journal listed on how to do and the most effective way to do it.

By the time I exhausted any other options that would give me something to do without thinking too much about what had happened to Eragon, the sun was setting. I checked on the horses and gave all three a good brush when Midnight landed. She had decided to go scout the area and make sure we wouldn't have any surprises while Eragon was still asleep.

"You should go hunting tomorrow Midnight. I know you haven't done so since we left Teirm."

"I will go hunting when I know Brom and Saphira are back for more than just a few minutes."

"You're not going to do anyone any good if you don't have the energy to back up that fight of yours."

"If it will put you at ease then I'll go hunting."

"Thank you Midnight. I'll do a little hunting as well. I'm sure Eragon and Brom would both like some fresh rabbit in the stew for tomorrow's dinner."

"hehe, very well little one, but do be careful."

"Of course."

We both smiled at each other and then settled down for the night.

When morning came Midnight left for her hunt while I found a good sized pebble to use for hunting today. I added a little more water and vegetables to the stew, and put the horses where a fare amount of grass was before picketing them there. I grabbed some cloth and my hunting knife so that I could put the meat into a wrap before bringing it back to camp. After that I looked over Eragon's wrist, to make sure it wasn't still swollen; made sure he would be fine and then headed off into the trees.

An hour had creeped past when I finally found some rabbit tracks, and started to follow them.

Eventually the tracks led me to a small clearing, where I could see the rabbit eating the grass. I raised the pebble ready to cast the spell.

"Stenr reisa."

The pebble shot from my hand striking the rabbit with an instant kill. I'm glad it didn't feel pain in it's early time of death.

I spent the next hour skinning it and wrapping up the meat. After that I buried the bones and skin, so that it would be easier for them to decompose. I placed the meat in my satchel and started heading back in Eragon's direction when a sudden wave of dizziness hit me. I stumbled until my foot caught the edge of a fallen branch and face planted. I tried to get back to my feet when my vision started swirling and the last thing I did was shout for Midnight's help before everything faded into oblivion.

Everything suddenly came into focus with me standing at the edge of a clearing. The sky was pitch black so it was easy to assume that it was night. Brom, Eragon, and Saphira were tied up and chained. I couldn't see myself or Midnight which confused me. This didn't feel like a dream that I was experiencing through my own eyes, it felt like when I was seeing the cloaked woman in Garrow's sick room. But if this is the case then where am I and Midnight. Did we go on a night flight and something's happening before we get back? I couldn't figure it out so I settled for reluctantly watching what would happen here.

A Ra'zac started to walk towards Eragon and after Eragon seemed to notice and try to use magic, the Ra'zac spoke.

"The drug is working, yesss? I think you will not be bothering us again."

A muzzle was put over Saphira's head and her wings were pinioned to her sides by black chains; there were shackles on her legs. Brom and Eragon both had their arms bound in front of them.

"She was most cooperative once we threatened to kill you," hissed the Ra'zac and I couldn't help but wish I could hurt them for what they were doing to them right now.

Squatting by a lantern, the Ra'zac started to rummage through Eragon's bags, examining and discarding various items until he removed Za'roc. "What a pretty thing for one so. . . insignificant. Maybe I will keep it." He leaned closer and sneered, "Or maybe, if you behave, our master will let you polish it."

Then he turned the sword over in his hands and screeched as he saw the symbol on the scabbard and I suddenly was glad it was Morzan's sword since it made that creature shriek like that. His companion rushed over. They stood over the sword, hissing and clicking. At last they faced Eragon. "You will serve our master very well, yesss."

Eragon seemed to be struggling to form words from what I could see in my position. "If I do, I will kill you."

They chuckled coldly. "Oh no, we are too valuable. But you. . .you are disposable." A deep snarl came from Saphira; smoke roiled from her nostrils. The Ra'zac did not seem to care.

Their attention was diverted when Brom groaned and rolled onto his side. One of the Ra'zac grabbed his shirt and thrust him effortlessly into the air. "It'sss wearing off."

"Give him more."

"Let'sss just kill him," said the shorter Ra'zac. "He has caused us much grief."

The taller one ran his finger down his sword. "A good plan. But remember, the king's instructions were to keep them alive."

"We can sssay he was killed when we captured them."

"And what of thisss one?" the Ra'zac asked, pointing his sword at Eragon. "If he talksss?"

His companion laughed and drew a wicked dagger. "He would not dare."

There was a long silence, then, "Agreed."

They dragged Brom to the center of the camp and shoved him to his knees. Brom sagged to one side. Eragon and I could only watch with growing fear.

Eragon wrenched at his ropes, but they were too strong to break. "None of that now," said the tall Ra'zac, poking Eragon with a sword. He nosed the air and sniffed; something seemed to trouble him.

The other Ra'zac growled, yanked Brom's head back, and swept the dagger toward his exposed throat. At that very moment a low buzz sounded, followed by the Ra'zac's howl. An arrow protruded from his shoulder and I mentally shouted yes. The Ra'zac nearest Eragon dropped to the ground, barely avoiding a second arrow. He scuttled to his wounded companion, and they glared into the darkness, hissing angrily. They made no move to stop Brom as he clearly staggered upright. "Get down!" cried Eragon.

Brom wavered, then tottered toward Eragon. As more arrows hissed into the camp from unseen attackers, the Ra'zac rolled behind some boulders. There was a lull, then arrows came from the opposite direction. Caught by surprise, the Ra'zac reacted slowly. Their cloaks were pierced in several places, and a shattered arrow buried itself in one's arm.

With a wild cry, the smaller Ra'zac fled toward the road, kicking Eragon viciously in the side as he passed; I could tell that probably broke or bruised some ribs. His companion hesitated, then grabbed the dagger from the ground and raced after him. As he left the camp, he hurled the knife at Eragon.

A strange light suddenly burned in Brom's eyes. He threw himself in front of Eragon, his mouth open in a spineless snarl. The dagger struck him with a soft thump, and he landed heavily on his shoulder. His head lolled limply.

"No!" screamed Eragon, though he was doubled over in pain. I heard footsteps and looked towards them to see a young man just a few years older than me and Eragon walk out from the trees.

The stranger, dressed in battered clothes, exuded a calm, assured air. In his hands was a bow, at his side a long hand-and-a-half sword. A white horn bound with silver fittings was also at his side, and fierce eyes were framed by locks of brown hair. He appeared to be an inch or so taller than Eragon. The man watched Saphira warily while he made a fire and tended to Brom before finally letting her out of the chains. Saphira wouldn't let him near Eragon and before long I heard Midnights roar in the distance. But I never got to see her because the scene in front of me changed again.

I was standing by the wall in a prison cell, a lone candle flickered in the darkness, brightening to illuminate the stone walls of the cell. There was a woman curled up on a cot in one corner. She lifted her head, dark hair falling back, and stared directly at one of the walls as if she could sense someone there or something. Then the woman trembled and collapsed limply. When her hair fell back to her side I could see her ears. I gasped at what I was seeing. Pointed ears adorned her head and I realized this must be the elf Arya that stranger told Brom about that was captured. But where was she right now. Maybe after the Ra'zac are dead we could help rescue her...but according to the last vision that doesn't seem to go well. Things started to swirl again and I wasn't sure rather to be apprehensive or curious of what I would see next.

When I blinked my eyes open again I was in some sort of Great hall I think, there was a long table with food piled at the end where a man was sitting with empty goblets surrounding him. There was a boy, actually the boy looked like a younger version of the stranger from before, he seemed to be hiding by the wall away from the man. A messenger of some sort came in and gave the man a roll of parchment. The man reluctantly took it and what he read didn't seem to please him. His eyes darkened and he suddenly stood knocking his chair over before throwing his goblet at the wall with as much force as he could. He withdrew his sword and my blood ran cold when I saw that it was Za'roc. That means this man is Morzan?! I could only assume that I was being shone far back enough into the past before his death, perhaps this is even when he found out Saphira's egg had been taken. When he started throwing more things around and slashing at some of them, I couldn't help but continuously flinch. The worst part was when the boy tried to run for the safety of another room and Morzan threw his sword. It cut the boy across his back in a wide arch and he let out a shrill cry of pain. Morzan was about to step forward and probably finish the boy in his drunken state.

The doors to the room suddenly slammed open, making me snap my eyes away from the kid and I had to do a double take when I saw my mother with Selena behind her. Both with regal clothing and Selena's hair done up in pearls again.

My mother took one look at Morzan and the boy and her eyes turned on Morzan in a cold furry.

"What in the Blazes of Hell do you think you're doing to your own son Morzan?! Are you trying to kill him?!"

Recognition and realization seemed to dawn in his eyes and he suddenly kneeled, which made me do a double take. When did mother know Morzan and why is he kneeling to her?

"I'm sorry my lady."

"Go do whatever it is you were sent for Morzan. Be glad that I am here and can save Murtagh from your stupidity."

"Of course." Though he didn't seem to like or want to accept the stupid comment, he walked away from the room nonetheless with a scowl adorning his face.

Mother scooped the boy named Murtagh into her arms and with Selena hot on her trail rushed to a room nearby that had medical equipment surrounding the shelves on the walls. I watched as mother used both the ancient language and normal herbs to heal Murtagh's back, but it would leave a nasty scar there until his dying day more than likely.

The scene started to swirl again and this time I was dreading another dream or vision of some sorts, but I was glad that mother was there to help Murtagh, no one deserved a father like Morzan.

When the swirling finally stopped, I shot up gasping for air and feeling like I couldn't breath at all.

Brom and Eragon were suddenly both at my side, though I wasn't quite certain where either of them even came from to be honest.

Brom put his hand on my shoulder helping to keep me up right, "Lyalle you need to breath. Calm down, listen to me closely and do exactly as I say."

I was still struggling to breath and trying not to panic but did my best to pay absolute attention to him.

"Now focus on me and try to take a deep breath in."

I kept my eyes glued to him and did as he said. "Now let it out and repeat the process."

I did so until my breathing regulated and the realization that I was able to breath again finally hit me. My body was still shaking and I wasn't sure if I could move without throwing up. Eragon brought me one of the water skins and looked at me in concern.

When he handed it out I tried to grab it but my hands wouldn't stop shaking long enough for me to properly grab it, so Eragon helped me take a drink.

"What happened Lyalle?"

"I'm not really sure. I went hunting so that I could add a little extra meat to the stew for when you woke up and as I started heading back to the camp I suddenly felt dizzy, before I could sit down and let it pass my foot hit a fallen tree branch and I fell. When I tried to get up I blacked out and started seeing visions or dreams or whatever they were. Eragon I'm getting scared, every time I have one I wake up feeling sick and weak and I don't understand why." I looked into his eyes and I could tell him and Brom could see my fear and were worried themselves.

Midnight grew into her smaller form and curled up on my lap trying to calm me down.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there sooner little one."

"It's not your fault Midnight. I didn't call for you until I realized I wasn't going to be staying awake."

"You should have called sooner but rest for now. I will do my best to protect you from whatever it is that is going on."

"Thank you Midnight."

"You are welcome little one."

By the time we both payed attention to the others Eragon was finishing, telling Brom what I had told him. Brom seemed to be deep in thought for a few minutes.

"I'm afraid that other than helping you once you're awake I don't know what to do. I have a friend who does but I have absolutely no idea where she would be at this point in time around Alagaësia. I'm sorry Lyalle but unless we happen upon her on our way to Dras-Leona there's nothing else we can do."

I nodded in understanding.

Eragon looked at me and smiled "Maybe it would help if you tell us what you saw?"

I smiled as well at his suggestion, "Never hurts to try after all right?"

"Exactly!" Smiling wider at the fact that I seemed interested in trying his idea. I spent almost the next hour telling Eragon and Brom about what I saw. Though I probably shouldn't have, I left out the part about the vision with my mother.

Brom and Eragon both were concerned about the one with the Ra'zac.

"Could you tell if it was before or after we reached Dras-Leona?"

I shook my head dejectedly to Brom, wishing that I did.

"Well until we find out we'll just have to travel with more caution. Perhaps the reason you weren't with us is because you were taking a night time flight as you thought you were. But we won't know what's going on until it happens so we might as well not put too much strain on what is to come and just focus on the now."

Me and Eragon nodded and after Brom got Cadoc saddled and I could properly stand without help, I saddled Stardust and we left.

Eragon must have been chastised before I was brought back because now that the situation with my dreams had calmed down he seemed more abashed than he did earlier.

As we rode, every bump and dip in the trail made Eragon grit his teeth with discomfort. I'm sure if it had just been me and him or him on his own he would have stopped. With Brom here though, I don't think he would even dare to complain. Also, Brom started drilling him with difficult scenarios involving Urgals, magic, and Saphira. Sometimes me and Midnight were added into the scenarios, though Brom never asked me or I assume her for any answers. The imagined fights were many and varied. Sometimes a Shade or other dragons were included. I think Eragon discovered that it was possible to torture the mind and body at the same time. Eragon got most of the questions wrong and became increasingly frustrated.

When we stopped for the night, Brom grumbled shortly, "It was a start." Eragon and I could tell that he was disappointed and I felt bad for Eragon. I gave him a pat on the shoulder before curling up for bed by Midnight. Her dark wing putting a protective embrace around me.

The next day was easier on all of us. Eragon felt better and was able to answer more of Brom's questions correctly. After an especially difficult exercise, Eragon mentioned his scrying of the same woman that I saw in my dream. Midnight who had been riding on the saddle in her smaller form looked both amused and confused by my reaction to the news.

Brom pulled on his beard. "You say she was imprisoned?"

"Yes."

"Did you see her face?" asked Brom intently.

"Not very clearly. The lighting was bad, yet I could tell that she was beautiful. It's strange; I didn't have any problem seeing her eyes. And she did look at me."

Brom shook his head. "As far as I know, it's impossible for anyone to know if they're being scryed upon."

"It must not be impossible though. I saw her look up at a wall in my dream and she must have been sensing you when you were scrying her Eragon. Also tell Brom that she's an elf. Before the dream ended I saw her ears when she fell back onto the floor."

Eragon snapped his head at me "She was an elf?!"

This had Brom's attention as well. "That's right, I forgot you saw her as well Lyalle."

I nodded to him.

"Hhmm, this is odd indeed, but there isn't much we can do until we have more information. Let's focus on the Ra'zac for now."

"Do you know who she might be?" asked Eragon, I was slightly surprised by the eagerness in his voice.

"Not really," admitted Brom. "If pressed, I suppose I could come up with a few guesses, but none of them would be very likely. These dreams of both of yours are peculiar. Somehow you managed to scry in your sleep something that you'd never seen before--without saying the words of power. Dreams do occasionally touch the spirit realm, but this is different."

"Perhaps to understand this we should search every prison and dungeon until we find the woman," bantered Eragon and I rolled my eyes smiling. Brom laughed and rode on.

Brom's strict training filled nearly every hour as the days slowly blended into weeks. Because of his splint, Eragon was forced to use his left hand whenever we sparred but to make it fair, I did as well. Before long we both could duel as well with our left hands as we had with our right hands.

By the time we crossed the Spine and came to the plains, spring had crept over Alagaësia, summoning a multitude of flowers. The bare deciduous trees were russet with buds, while new blades of grass began to push up between last year's dead stalks. Birds returned from their winter absence to mate and build nests.

We followed the Toark River southeast, along the edge of the Spine. It grew steadily as tributaries flowed into it from every side, feeding its bulging girth. When the river was over a league wide, Brom pointed at the silt islands that dotted the water. "We're close to Leona Lake now," he said. "It's only about two leagues away."

"Do you think we can get there before nightfall?" asked Eragon.

"We can try."

Dusk soon made the trail hard to follow, but the sound of the river at our side guided us. When the moon rose, the bright disk provided enough light to see what lay ahead.

Leona Lake looked like a thin sheet of silver beaten over the land. The water was so calm and smooth it did not even seem to be liquid. Aside from a bright strip of moonlight reflecting off the surface, it was indistinguishable from the ground. Midnight was laying off to the side away from the water while Saphira was on the rocky shore, fanning her wings to dry them. Eragon greeted her and she directed her thoughts to both me and him. "The water is lovely--deep, cool, and clear."

"Maybe I'll go swimming tomorrow," he responded. We all set up camp under a stand of trees and we're soon asleep.

At dawn, Eragon eagerly had us both rushing out to see the lake in daylight. A white paper expanse of water rippled with fan-shaped patterns where wind brushed it. The pure size of it seemed to delight Eragon. He whooped and ran to the water.

The moment Eragon climbed onto Saphira, she jumped out over the water. They soared upward, circling over the lake.

Suddenly Saphira locked her wings and sank to the waves, clipping the crests with her claws. The water sparkled in the sunlight as those two sailed over it. Even from here I could hear Eragon whoop again. Then, Saphira folded her wings and dived into the lake, her head and neck entering it like a lance.

I sat by the shore watching them as Midnight walked up from behind.

"That looks fun. Do you wish to join little one?"

"Not really to be honest. I'm not overly fond of deep water."

"You didn't seem to mind flying over the ocean the other day?"

"We never went in the water so it didn't freak me out so much. Heh, some Rider I am though."

 "Now why on earth do you say that Lyalle?"

"There seems to be rarely anything that I'm not afraid of, and aren't Riders supposed to be brave and Ride into battle and not be afraid of swimming or flying on their own dragon, or even loud noises. I'm surprised I'm not afraid of my own shadow at this point."

She shoved her head close to my face making me crane my head back a bit so I wouldn't fall over.

"Yes being a Rider means being brave, but that does not mean that there should be an absence of fear. Fear drives people to do many things, including facing the fear. You rode me did you not?"

I hesitated at where she might be going with this but answered none the less. "Yes."

"And are you still afraid of flying or are you afraid of being up high without a sense of control or a safety net with you?"

"I guess the safety net."

"Then it is not the heights or flying that scares you but the idea of falling, but now you have me and you know that I will always catch you no matter what. This does not mean that the fear goes away, but it does mean that you are never alone when facing it. Now why are you scared of the water?"

"......I never learned how to swim unlike Eragon and Roran."

"Why is that little one?"

"I was afraid that if something happened and since I can't really call for help that I would end up drowning. It was more scarier when I was younger, now I just feel foolish."

"You were not foolish Lyalle, that very well could have happened. Now as I said earlier, you have me and can call for me with your thoughts. If you wish to enter the water like they are we can put the saddle on me and strap your legs in so that there is no risk of you falling off, or you could hold onto me like you usually do. But if you truly still wish not to enter the water, I am more than content to stay at the shore with you."

"Thank you Midnight. Lets put your saddle on and go join those two."

She gave a toothy smile at me which I returned and ran to grab her saddle so I could put it on her. Once it was secure and my legs were as well, she launched into the air, before diving much like Saphira had.

The water hit me like an icy wall, knocking the air out of me and would have torn me off Midnights back had it not been for the saddle.

With barely a few strokes Midnight breached the surface once again. I sucked in air before a huge smile crept across my face. I could see Eragon and waved to him before Saphira dragged him back under.

"Are we not also going to go back under?"

"I would have thought you would want to stay above the surface for a while with this being this deep in water.?" I could hear the amusement in her voice and my smile somehow widened while becoming sheepish at the same time.

"I suppose if you're up for it we could do one more dive?"

"Is that a challenge little one?"

"Maybe."

I could hear her laugh as she gave a small jump before diving back under. When we submerged we could see for yards through the unclouded liquid. We could see Saphira twisting and turning in fantastic shapes, slipping through the water like a great sea serpent of legend. As I swept my eyes over the area I thought I saw something slightly reflective towards the bottom.

"Midnight can we check out what that is?"

"Of course but be warned you might run out of air before we reach it and if that starts to happen I'm taking you back to the surface."

"I understand."

She had already started to make her way towards it when she nodded in acknowledgement to what I had said. Once we reached there I could see that it appeared to be some sort of mini rainbow colored sea shell. My lungs were starting to burn and Midnight could tell, as she started to swim past it to take us back to the surface I reached out my hand and by luck alone managed to grab it.

As Midnight exploded upon the surface she snapped her wings open and with two powerful flaps she gained altitude and returned us to the shore.

I panted for air for a few moments, "That was amazing Midnight."

"I know little one. Now go dry off alongside Eragon so that we can all go before long."

I smiled at her and patted her head before unstrapping my legs and sliding off. I unsaddled Midnight and ran over to Eragon with the shell in my pocket. I placed it in my satchel while Eragon and I dried off. Once we were both dry, we all saddled the horses and started around Leona Lake in high spirits while Saphira and Midnight both playfully dived in and out of the water.

Before dinner, Eragon blocked Za'roc's edge in preparation for our usual sparring with Brom. I pulled mothers sword Islingr and started to do the same. Once done I looked down upon it.

I should probably start to call it my own. I do not believe mother will be showing up out of the blue to reclaim it.

I stood up and got into position much like Eragon had. Neither of us moved towards Brom and Brom did not move towards us. We all waited for the other to strike first. A stick near the fire seemed to catch Eragon's attention, he swooped down, grabbed it, and hurled it at Brom.

The splint got in his way, though, and Brom easily sidestepped the piece of wood. The old man rushed forward, swinging his sword. Eragon ducked while I jumped back just as the blade whistled over Eragon's head. Eragon growled and tackled Brom ferociously.

While those two pitched to the ground I quickly looked around until I saw something useful. I grabbed my a length of rope hanging from my saddle; though I don't remember when it got there and started to make my way at a better angle, hoping this plan works.

Brom parried a blow from Eragon with the hilt of his sword, then jumped to his feet. Twisting as he stood, Eragon attacked again, guiding Za'roc through a complex pattern. Sparks danced from their blades as they struck again and again; I quickly started to adjust the ropes length to the amount I would need it for. Brom blocked each blow, his face tight with concentration. But Eragon and I could tell he was tiring. The relentless hammering continued as each sought an opening in the other's defenses.

I could tell Eragon felt the battle change. Blow by blow he gained advantage; Brom's paries slowed and he lost ground. Eragon easily blocked a stab from Brom. Veins pulsed on the old man's forehead and cords bulged in his neck from the effort.

Eragon suddenly got a confident gleam in his eyes, almost like he forgot he would still have to fight me even if he did manage to beat Brom. Eragon swung Zar'roc faster than ever, weaving a web of steel around Brom's sword. With a burst of speed, he smashed the flat of his blade against Brom's guard and knocked the sword to the ground. Before Brom or Eragon both could react I snapped the rope up like a whip at Eragon's sword hand, causing Za'roc to go flying. My sword quickly pulled up to be at both of their necks.

We all stood there panting, my sword tip pointing towards both of their collarbones. I slowly lowered my arm smiling at them both and backed away. It was the first time Eragon had bested Brom and I bested Eragon. Though my win still involved a slight trick unlike Eragon's win.

Brom and Eragon both picked up their swords and sheathed them, I sheathed mine as well. Still breathing hard, he said, "We're done for today."

"But we just started," said Eragon, startled and I even blinked slightly surprised.

Brom shook his head. "I can teach you nothing more of the sword. Of all the fighters I've met, only three of them could have defeated me like that, and I doubt any of them could have done it with their left hand. Lyalle you did well waiting for an opportunity to strike, including on using the things in your surroundings much like Eragon. Usually I would tell you that you can't always wait for the right moment but I can tell that you already know this." He smiled ruefully. "I may not be as young as I used to be, but I can tell that you're both talented and rare swordsmen."

"Does this mean we're not going to spar every night?" asked Eragon and I smiled and shook my head at him.

"Oh, you're not getting out of it," laughed Brom. "But we'll go easier now. It's not as important if we miss a night here or there."

He wiped his brow. "Just remember, if you ever have the misfortune to fight an elf--trained or not, female or male--expect to lose. They, along with dragons and other creatures of magic, are many times stronger than nature intended. Even the weakest elf could easily overpower you. The same goes for the Ra'zac--they are not human and tire much more slowly than we do."

"Is there any way to become their equal?" asked Eragon. He sat cross-legged by Saphira, while I sat by Midnight who put her head on my lap.

Brom seated himself with a shrug. "There are a few, but none are available to you now. Magic will let you defeat all but the strongest enemies. For those you'll need Saphira and Midnight's help, plus a great deal of luck. Remember, when creatures of magic actually use magic, they can accomplish things that could kill a human, because of their enhanced abilities."

"How do you fight with magic?" asked Eragon.

"What do you mean?"

"Well," he said, leaning on an elbow. "Suppose I was attacked by a Shade. How could I block his magic? Most spells take place instantaneously, which makes it impossible to react in time. And even if I could, how would I nullify an enemy's magic? It seems I would have to know my opponent's intention before he acted." He paused. "I just don't see how it can be done. Whoever attacked first would win."

Brom sighed and I could tell I wouldn't like this answer. "What you are talking about---a 'wizards' duel,' if you will--is extremely dangerous. Haven't you ever wondered how Galbatorix was able to defeat all of the Riders with the help of only a dozen or so traitors?"

"I never thought about it," acknowledged Eragon and I had to admit neither had I.

"There are several ways. Some you'll learn about later, but the main one is that Galbatorix was, and still is, a master of breaking into people's minds. You see, in a wizard's' duel there are strict rules that each side must observe or else both contestants will die. To begin with, no one uses magic until one of the participants gains access to the other's mind."

"Saphira wants to know why wait? By the time an enemy realizes that you've attacked, it will be too late for him to act."

Brom shook his head. "No, it won't. If I were to suddenly use my power against you, Eragon, you would surely die, but in the brief moment before you were destroyed, there would be time for a counter attack. Therefore, unless one combatant has a death wish, neither side attacks until one of them has breached the other's defenses."

"Then what happens?" Eragon inquired while I got up to serve dinner.

I handed everyone their bowls before sitting back down and waiting for Brom's answer.

Brom shrugged and said, "Once you're inside your enemy's mind, it's easy enough to anticipate what he will do and prevent it. Even with that advantage, it's still possible to lose if you don't know how to counteract spells."

He filled and lit his pipe. "And that requires extraordinarily quick thinking. Before you can defend yourself, you have to understand the exact nature of the forces directed at you. If you're being attacked with heat, you have to know whether it is being conveyed to you through air, fire, light, or some other medium. Only once that's known can you combat the magic by, for instance, chilling the heated material."

"It sounds difficult." I nodded in agreement, feeling a slight shudder run up my spine from what Brom said.

"Extremely," confirmed Brom. A plume of smoke rose from his pipe. "Seldom can people survive such a duel for more than a few seconds. The enormous amount of effort and skill required condemn anyone without the proper training to a quick death. Once you've progressed, I'll start teaching you both the necessary methods. In the meantime, if you find yourself facing a wizards' duel, I suggest you run away as fast as you can."

We lunched at Fasaloft, a bustling lakeside village. It was a charming place set on a rise overlooking the lake. As we ate in the hostel's common room, Eragon seemed to be listening to the gossip, making sure none of it concerned any of us. I had finished eating before both of them and was trying to sketch the view on some of the spare parchment Jeod let me have. Granted using ink and a quil to sketch was no easy task but I made do.

The trail, now a road, had grown steadily worse over the past two days. Wagon wheels and iron-shod hooves had conspired to tear up the ground, making many sections impassable. An increase in travelers forced Midnight and Saphira to hide during the day and then catch up with us at night.

For days we continued south along Leona Lake's vast shore. Eragon began to wonder if we would ever get around it and I just smiled in mild amusement at his impatience. Though I'll admit he wasn't the only one heartened when we all met men who said that Dras-Leona was an easy day's ride ahead of us.

When I awoke Eragon was already awake and talking with Saphira, since Brom hadn't woken yet, so I started to make breakfast. Once we had all eaten and the dragons had flown off to hide until nightfall, we set off once again.

Chapter 13: Helgrind

Notes:

Conversations with just " " are people speaking out loud. Conversations with ' ' and italicized are written conversations. Conversations that are both bold and italicized are mental conversations. With this out of the way I hope you enjoy the story.

Image found on Pinterest or Google.

The road was clogged with farmers taking their goods to market in Dras-Leona. The three of us were forced to slow our horses and wait for wagons that blocked the way.

Although we saw smoke in the distance before noon, it was another league before the city was clearly visible. Unlike Teirm, a planned city, Dras-Leona was a tangled mess that sprawled next to Leona Lake. Ramshackle buildings sat on crooked streets, and the heart of the city was surrounded by a dirty, pale yellow wall of daubed mud.

Several miles east, a mountain of bare rock speared the sky with spires and columns, a tenebrous nightmare ship. Near-vertical sides rose out of the ground like a jagged piece of the earth's bone.

Brom pointed. "That is Helgrind. It's the reason Dras-Leona was originally built. People are fascinated by it, even though it's an unhealthy and malevolent thing."

I think Dras-Leona's people need something new to fascinate them if I'm being honest here.

Brom gestured at the buildings inside the city's wall. "We should go to the center of the city first.

As we crept along the road to Dras-Leona, me and Eragon saw that the highest building within the city was a cathedral that looked behind the walls. It was strikingly similar to Helgrind, especially when its arches and flanged spires caught the light. "Who do they worship?" he asked.

Brom grimaced in distaste. "Their prayers go to Helgrind. It's a cruel religion they practice. They drink human blood and make flesh offerings. Their priests often lack body parts because they believe that the more bone and sinew you give up, the less you're attached to the mortal world." I promptly made a gagging sound. "They spend much of their time arguing about which of Helgrind's three peaks is the highest and most important and whether the fourth--and lowest--should be included in their worship."

"That's horrible," said Eragon, shuddering, though that's definitely not the only word that could be used to describe it.

"Yes," said Brom grimly, "but don't say that to a believer. You'll quickly lose a hand in 'penance.' "

At Dras-Leona's enormous gates, we led the horses through the crush of people. Ten soldiers were stationed on either side of the gates, casually scanning the crowd. Eragon, Brom, and I passed into the city without incident.

The houses inside the city wall were tall and thin to compensate for the lack of space. Those next to the wall were braced against it. Most of the houses hung over the narrow, winding streets, covering the sky so that it was hard to tell if it was night or day. Nearly all the buildings were constructed of the same rough brown wood, which darkened the city even more. The air reeked like a sewer; the streets were filthy.

A group of ragged children ran between the houses, fighting over scraps of bread. Deformed beggars crouched next to the entrance gates, pleading for money. Their cries for help were like a chorus of the damned. It was horrible to see how these people were treated, even the animals back home were treated better; even during the winter months. I could see anger in Eragon's eyes. "I won't stay here," he said, no doubt rebelling against the sight.

"It gets better farther in," said Brom and I wasn't sure if I should be more worried by that sentence or not. "Right now we need to find an inn and form a strategy. Dras-Leona can be a dangerous place to even the most cautious. I don't want to remain on the streets any longer than necessary."

We forged deeper into Dras-Leona, leaving the squalid entrance behind. As we entered wealthier parts of the city, the place was surprisingly not as filthy and there weren't mutilated people in the streets begging for food or money.

We found lodging at the Golden Globe, which was cheap but not decrepit. A narrow bed was crammed against one wall of the room, with a rickety table and basin alongside it. Eragon took one look at the mattress and said, "I'm sleeping on the floor. There are probably enough bugs in that thing to eat me alive." I rolled my eyes, even if I did agree with his statement.

"Well, I wouldn't want to deprive them of a meal," said Brom, dropping his bags on the mattress while I deadpanned at him. Eragon set his own bag on the floor and pulled off his bow. I set my bag and sword beside his things.

"What now?" he asked.

"We find food and beer. After that, sleep. Tomorrow we can start looking for the Ra'zac." Before we left the room, Brom warned, "No matter what happens, make sure that your tongues don't loosen. We'll have to leave immediately if we're given away."

I nodded and grabbed my water skin before following them, I wasn't about to get drunk or buzzed and nor would I be asking for water from here tonight at least.

The inn's food was barely adequate, but its beer seemed to be excellent from how much Brom was drinking and how much Eragon was trying to drink. At the end of his second cup I took Eragon's cup away. When he reached for it back I glared at him with a silent threat to kick his chair out from under him if he continued to reach for it. By the time those two stumbled back into the room, me walking behind them, Eragon was slightly drunk, though I'm almost surprised Brom wasn't closer to passing out than he already was.

Eragon and I unrolled our blankets on the floor and slid under them as Brom tumbled onto the bed.

Before falling asleep I informed Midnight that we might be here a few days. Though not as long as we were in Teirm. I also might have mentioned that she should laugh a little bit in the morning at Eragon's and Brom's hangovers. Then I fell asleep.

The next morning I tried not to be amused at those two's predicament.

Brom rolled out of bed with a grumble. He doused his head in cold water from the basin, then left the room. Eragon followed him into the hallway. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"To recover."

"I'll come."

I rolled my eyes before smirking as those two went to recover as Brom said.

I rolled up mine and Eragon's blankets and then pulled out some of the herbs I bought from Angela and mixed a small amount of them into a headache tonic that Gertrude taught me for colds and those who got too drunk the night before.

I had just finished making the tonics when those two came in and handed it over to them. I made a fist and lightly rapped my head before pointing at the tonic in their hands. Brom just nodded and swallowed it and Eragon followed soon after, more than likely just copying Brom though.

Brom then belted on his sword and smoothed the wrinkles out of his robe. "The first thing we need to do is ask some discreet questions. I want to find out where the Seithr oil was delivered in Dras-Leona and where it was taken from there. Most likely, soldiers or workmen were involved in transporting it. We have to find those men and get one to talk."

We left the Golden Globe and searched for warehouses where the Seithr oil might have been delivered. Near the center of Dras-Leona, the streets began to slant upward toward a palace of polished granite. It was built on a rise so that it towered above every building except the cathedral.

The courtyard was a mosaic of mother-of-pearl, and parts of the walls were inlaid with gold. Black statues stood in alcoves, with sticks of incense smoking in their cold hands. Soldiers stationed every four yards watched passerby keenly.

"Who lives there?" asked Eragon in awe, although pretty it was shameful to see where the city's wealth had gone to.

"Marcus Tábor, ruler of this city. He answers only to the king and his own conscience, which hasn't been very active recently," said Brom, gee I wonder what gave that conclusion away.

We walked around the palace, looking at the gated, ornate houses that surrounded it.

By midday we had learned nothing useful, so we stopped for lunch. "This city is too vast for us to comb it together," said Brom. "You two search on your own with each other. Meet me at the Golden Globe by dusk." He glowered at Eragon from under his bushy eyebrows. "I'm trusting you not to do anything stupid."

"I won't," promised Eragon. Brom handed him some coins, then strode away in the opposite direction. I just hope Eragon and I can keep the promise.

Throughout the rest of the day, Eragon talked with shopkeepers and workers, trying to be as pleasant and charming as he could, I kept a constant watch to make sure we were never followed by anyone. His questions led us from one end of the city to the other and back again. No one seemed to know about the oil. Wherever we went, the cathedral stared down at us. It was impossible to escape its tall spires.

At last we found a man who had helped ship the Seithr oil and remembered to which warehouse it had been taken. Eragon excitedly went to look at the building with me jogging to keep up with his longer strides, then we returned to the Golden Globe. It was over an hour before Brom came back, slumped with fatigue. "Did you find anything?" asked Eragon.

Brom brushed back his white hair. "I heard a great deal of interesting things today, not the least of which is that Galbatorix will visit Dras-Leona within the week."

My eyes popped a bit with shock and a bit of fear. "What?" exclaimed Eragon.

Brom slouched against the wall, the lines on his forehead deepening. "It seems that Tábor has taken a few too many liberties with his power, so Galbatorix has decided to come teach him a lesson in humility. It's the first time the king has left Urû'baen in over ten years."

"Do you think he knows of us?" asked Eragon.

"Of course he knows of us, but I'm sure he hasn't been told our location. If he had, we would already be in the Ra'zac's grasp. However, this means that whatever we're going to do about the Ra'zac must be accomplished before Galbatorix arrives. We don't want to be anywhere within twenty leagues of him. The one thing in our favor is that the Ra'zac are sure to be here, preparing for his visit."

"I want to get the Ra'zac," said Eragon, his fist tightening; and I laid my hand on his shoulder, "but not if it means fighting the king. He could probably tear us both to pieces."

That seemed to amuse Brom which worried me. "Very good: caution. And you're right; you both wouldn't stand a chance against Galbatorix. Now tell me what you learned today. It might confirm what I heard."

Eragon shrugged. "It was mostly drivel, but I did talk with a man who knew where the oil was taken. It's just an old warehouse. Other than that, I didn't discover anything useful."

"My day was a little more fruitful than yours. I heard the same thing you did, so I went to the warehouse and talked with the workers. It didn't take much cajoling before they revealed that the cases of Seithr oil are always sent from the warehouse to the palace."

"And that's when you came back here," finished Eragon. I gave him the shush sign.

"No, it's not! Don't interrupt. After that, I went to the palace and got myself invited into the servants' quarters as a bard. For several hours I wandered about, amusing the maids and others with songs and poems--and asking questions all the while." Brom slowly filled his pipe with tobacco. "It's really amazing all the things servants find out. Did you know that one of the earls has three mistresses, and they all live in the same wing of the palace?" He shook his head and lit the pipe. "Aside from the fascinating tidbits, I was told, quite by accident, where the oil is taken from the palace."

"And that is. . . ?" asked Eragon impatiently, I rolled my eyes at his lack of patience.

Brom puffed on his pipe and blew a smoke ring. "Out of the city, of course. Every full moon two slaves are sent to the base of Helgrind with a months worth of provisions. Whenever the Seithr oil arrives in Dras-Leona, they send it along with the provisions. The slaves are never seen again. And the one time someone followed them, he disappeared too."

"I thought the Riders demolished the slave trade," said Eragon.

"Unfortunately, it has flourished under the king's reign."

"So the Ra'zac are in Helgrind," said Eragon, the mountain coming to the forefront of my mind.

"There or somewhere nearby."

"If they are in Helgrind, they'll be either at the bottom-- and protected by a thick stone door--or higher up where only their flying mounts, or Saphira and Midnight, can reach. Top or bottom, their shelter will no doubt be disguised." Eragon paused for a moment. "If Saphira and I go flying around Helgrind, the Ra'zac are sure to see us--not to mention all of Dras-Leona."

"It is a problem," agreed Brom.

Eragon frowned. "What if we took the place of the two slaves, while Lyalle and the dragons are ready to provide back up once the Ra'zac show themselves. The full moon isn't far off. It would give us a perfect opportunity to get close to the Ra'zac."

Brom tugged his beard thoughtfully while I eyed Eragon as if that would tell me his sanity level. It may be a good idea but still so many ways that could end horribly. "That's chancy at best. If the slaves are killed from a distance, we'll be in trouble. We can't harm the Ra'zac if they aren't in sight."

"We don't know if the slaves are killed at all," Eragon pointed out, though I doubted that was the case.

"I'm sure they are," said Brom, his face grave. Then his eyes sparkled, and he blew another smoke ring. "Still, it's an intriguing idea. If it were done with the dragons hidden nearby and a. . ." His voice trailed off. "It might work, but we'll have to move quickly. With the king coming, there isn't much time."

"Should we go to Helgrind and look around? It would be good to see the land in daylight so we won't be surprised by any ambushes," said Eragon.

Brom fingered his staff. "That can be done later. Tomorrow I'll return to the palace and figure out how we can replace the slaves. I have to be careful not to arouse suspicion, though--I could easily be revealed by spies and courtiers who know about the Ra'zac."

"I can't believe it; we actually found them," said Eragon quietly.

I could tell his thoughts were going to Garrow and the farm and gave one of his hands a light squeeze before noticing his jaw tighten at the memories.

"The toughest part is yet to come, but yes, we've done well," said Brom. "If fortune smiles on us, you may soon have your revenge and the Varden will be rid of a dangerous enemy. What comes after that will be up to you."

I opened my mind and informed Midnight of all that had been discovered and discussed this evening. Excitement at the fight to come radiated off of her and I smiled before severing the link.



When me and Eragon woke, Brom was no longer in the room. Scrawled onto the wall with a charcoal stick was a note that read:

' Eragon and Lyalle,

I will be gone until late tonight. Coins for food are under the mattress. Explore the city, enjoy yourselves, but stay unnoticed!

Brom.

P.S. Avoid the palace. Don't go anywhere without your bow or sword! Keep it strung. '

"So I suppose that means we're on our own again today.?"

I nodded and eyed the charcoal stick, that would definitely make sketching and writing to them in general much easier, but I wasn't sure if it was the inn's or Brom's, so I left it alone for the time being.

Eragon wiped the wall clean while I retrieved the money from under the mattress and handed it to him. I hooked my sword sheath to my belt while Eragon slipped his bow across his back. I could tell he wished we didn't have to be armed all the time, even I wished we could go unarmed somewhere without worrying so much. I made sure the room was all clean and all of our bags packed in case we had to make an unexpected escape from the city, I just had a bad feeling that we wouldn't be staying here another night.

We left the Golden Globe and ambled through the streets, stopping to observe whatever interested us. There were many intriguing stores, but none compared to Angela's herb shop in Teirm. At times I looked over to catch Eragon glaring at the dark, claustrophobic houses and I'm sure we we're both wishing to be anywhere besides this city. When we grew hungry, Eragon bought us two wedges of cheese and two loaves of bread, we ate them, sitting on a curb.

Later, in a far corner of Dras-Leona, we heard an auctioneer rattling off a list of prices. Curious, we headed toward the voice and arrived at a wide opening between two buildings. Ten men stood on a waist-high platform. Arrayed before them was a richly dressed crowd that was both colorful and boisterous. I was starting to wonder where the items were when I noticed people standing behind the platform. Broms conversation about slavery flourishing under the kings reign, came back to me.

The auctioneer finished his list and motioned for a young man behind the platform to join him. The man awkwardly climbed up, chains dragging at his hands and feet. I placed a calming hand on Eragon's shoulder, hoping it would remind him not to do anything too rash; no matter how terrible this was to see.

"And here we have our first item," proclaimed the auctioneer. "A healthy male from the Hadarac Desert, captured just last month, and in excellent condition. Look at those arms and legs; he's strong as a bull!! He'd be perfect as a shield bearer, or, if you don't trust him for that, hard labor. But let me tell you, lords and ladies, that would be a waste. He's bright as a nail, if you can get him to talk a civilized tongue!"

The crowd laughed, and Eragon ground his teeth in obvious fury. His lips started to form a word that would free the slave, and his arm, newly liberated from the splint rose. When I noticed the mark on his palm shimmered, I pulled his arm down and made him face me. I shook my head no and conveyed a look that said ' What would happen once the chains were gone? '

he definitely didn't like it but he understood my point nonetheless.

We both watched helplessly as the slave was sold to a hawked-nose man. The next slave was a tiny girl, no more than six years old, wrenched from the arms of her crying mother. As the auctioneer started the bidding, Eragon and I forced ourselves to walk away, Eragon was rigid with fury and outrage.

It was several blocks before the weeping was inaudible. I hope no one tries to steal from us right now, if someone does; well, I'll be concerned for their health with the way Eragon is looking right now.

Frustrated, Eragon punched a nearby wall, bruising his knuckles. To think if the Riders were still here, the little girl would not be separated from her mother like this.

it was a while before Eragon got his bearings and realized we were in front of the Cathedral, a very uncomfortable while for me. Its twisted spires were covered with statues and scrollwork. Snarling gargoyles crouched along the eaves. Fantastic beast weighed on the walls, and heroes and kings marched along their bottom edges, frozen in cold marble. Ribbed arches and tall stained-glass windows lined the cathedral's sides, along with columns of differing sizes. A lonely turret helmed the building like a mast.

Recessed in shadow at the cathedral's front was an iron-bound door inlaid with a row of silver script that I recognized as the ancient language. The script read ' May thee who enter here understand thine impermanence and forget thine attachments to that which is beloved. '

The entire building sent a shiver down Eragon's and mine's spine's. There was something menacing about it, as if it were a predator crouched in the city, waiting for its next victim. I had the distinctive feeling that was about to be us.

A broad row of steps led to the cathedral's entrance. Eragon solemnly ascended them and stopped before the door. I hesitated a moment before following him up the steps. Almost guiltily Eragon pushed on the door. It swung open smoothly, gliding on oiled hinges. We stepped inside.

The silence of a forgotten tomb filled the empty cathedral. The air was chill and dry. Bare walls extended to a vaulted ceiling that was so high, even Eragon felt no taller than an ant. Stained-glass windows depicting scenes of anger, hate, and remorse pierced the walls, while spectral beams of light washed sections of the granite pews with transparent hues, leaving the rest in shadow. Our hands were shaded a deep blue.

Between the windows stood statues with rigid, pale eyes. Eragon returned their stern gazes while I kept mine to the exits and windows, then slowly we trod up the center row, afraid to break the quiet. Our leather boots padded hopelessly on the polished stone floor.

The altar was a great slab of stone devoid of adornment. A solitary finger of light fell upon it, illuminating notes of golden dust floating in the air. Behind the altar, the pipes of a wind organ pierced the ceiling and opened themselves to the elements. The instrument would play its music only when a gale rocked Dras-Leona.

Out of respect, Eragon knelt before the altar and bowed his head. I would have done so too, but I didn't want to take my eyes off of the main entrance to make sure no one ambushed us. It was a good thing I didn't look away, barely a minute since Eragon knelt and the Ra'zac crept in with their swords drawn. I grabbed at Eragon's sleeve and drew my sword. Eragon turned and was shocked to see them as well. A sibilant hiss came from the smaller Ra'zac. Neither of them moved.

Before I could caution him that we needed to get out of here and find Brom, a roar broke from his lips, echoing like a thunderstorm as he snatched his bow from his back. Deftly, he fit an arrow to the string and loosed it. Two more followed an instant later.

The Ra'zac leapt away from the arrows with inhuman swiftness. They hissed as they ran up the aisle between the pews, cloaks flapping like raven wings. Eragon reached for another arrow, but the thought of Brom must have finally crossed his mind.

Then to both of our horror, a line of soldiers filed into the cathedral, and we both glimpsed a field of uniforms jostling outside the doorway.

Eragon gazed hungrily at the Ra'zac while my eyes sought out the vestibule I saw when we came in. Once my eyes locked on it I grabbed his wrist and started pulling him to the archway and we both dashed down the corridor that led to a priory with a belfry. The patter of the Ra'zac's feet behind us made us quicken our pace until the hall abruptly ended with a closed door.

Eragon pounded against it, trying to break it open, but the wood was too strong. The Ra'zac were nearly upon us, and we didn't have time for an unlocking spell.

"Jierda!"

With a flash, the door splintered into pieces and fell to the floor. This time Eragon grabbed my wrist as we jumped into the small room and continued running.

We sped through several chambers, startling a group of priests. Shouts and curses followed us. The priory bell tolled an alarm.

We forged through a kitchen, passed a pair of monks, then slipped through a side door. We skidded to a stop in a garden surrounded by a high brick wall devoid of handhelds. There were no other exits.

I eyed the wall while Eragon turned to leave, but there was a low hiss as the Ra'zac shouldered aside the door. I ran to the wall and turned to give Eragon a boost once he was close enough.  Once on the wall he reached down and yanked me up beside him, as the Ra'zac prowled into the garden and made their way towards us. We dropped to the other side of the wall. We stumbled, then regained our balance and darted down an alley just as the Ra'zac leapt over the wall. Galvanized, we put on another burst of speed.

We ran for over a mile before we had to stop and catch our breath.

Unsure if we had lost the Ra'zac, we found a crowded marketplace and dived under a parked wagon.

"Midnight, we've been found out. You anand Saphira need to get ready to fly here as quickly as possible. Once we find Brom we'll do our best to get out of the city. But no matter what, if something happens to me I need you to stay with Eragon and Brom."

I knew she would argue with that so I didn't wait for a reply before severing the connection. Beside me Eragon muttered. "Don't I know it." So I assumed he finished a similar conversation with Saphira, then the two of us rolled out from under the wagon. We hurried back to the Golden Globe and grabbed our bags, I stuffed the charcoal stick into a side pocket on my bag, we saddled the horses, then led them to the street. Brom soon arrived, staff in hand, scowling dangerously. He swung onto Snowfire and asked, "What happened?"

"We were in the cathedral when the Ra'zac just appeared behind us," said Eragon climbing onto Cadoc, while I pulled myself onto Stardust, tying my satchel to her saddle alongside my bag. "We ran back as fast as possible, but they could be here at any second. Saphira and Midnight will join us once we're out of Dras-Leona."

"We have to get outside the city walls before they close the gates, if they haven't already," said Brom. "If they're shut, it'll be high impossible for us to leave. Whatever you two do, don't get separated from me." Eragon and I stiffened as ranks of soldiers marched down one end of the street.

Brom cursed, lashed Snowfire with his reins, and galloped away. Eragon bent low over Cadoc and followed, me doing the same with Stardust. We nearly crashed several times during the wild, hazardous ride, plunging through masses of people that clogged the streets as we neared the city wall. When the gates finally came into view, Eragon pulled on Cadoc's reins with dismay. The gates were already half closed, and a double line of pikemen blocked our way.

"They'll cut us to pieces!" he exclaimed.

"We have to try and make it," said Brom, his voice hard. "I'll deal with the men, but you have to keep the gates open for us." Eragon nodded, gritted his teeth, and we both dug our heels into our horses.

We plowed toward the line of unwavering soldiers, who lowered their pikes toward the horses' chests and braced the weapons against the ground. Though the horses snorted with fear, we held them in place. Eragon and I heard the soldiers shout but we kept our attention on the gates inching shut.

As we neared the sharp pikes, Brom raised his hand and spoke. The words struck with precision; the soldiers fell to each side as if their legs had been cut out from under them. The gap between the gates shrank by the second. I hope the effort won't prove too much for Eragon, I could feel when he drew on his power and shouted, "Du grind huildr!"

A deep grating sound emanated from the gates as they trembled, then ground to a stop. The crowd and guards fell silent, staring with amazement. With a clatter of the horses' hooves, Brom and Eragon shot out from behind Dras-Leona's wall. I was about to pass through as well, when something came hurtling in front of my head. I didn't duck in time and smacked into it full force.

I fell from Stardust's saddle and was lucky not to get kicked by her back hooves, though not lucky enough to escape the fate of my head slamming onto the ground below. Black spots were all I could see as I heard the gate boom shut.

I guess they thought I had still been right behind them. That was the last thing I remembered as my vision faded completely.

Chapter 14: Waking up at Gil'ead and Escaping a Shade

Notes:

Conversations with just " " are people speaking out loud. Conversations with ' ' and italicized are written conversations. Conversations that are both bold and italicized are mental conversations. With this out of the way I hope you enjoy the story.

Image found on Pinterest.

Consciousness slowly returned to me and when it finally did, my vision was extremely blurry. After a while the blurriness faded and I immediately wanted it blurry again. Before me stood a tall, proud looking man, a sable cape hung from his shoulders. His face was deathly white; his hair red. Red like blood. His eyes maroon, his upper lip pulled back in a feral smile, revealing teeth filed to points.

I tried to back away but the wall I was bound to prevented any means of putting distance between the two of us. His smile widen and appeared to actually become more feral than it was a moment ago.

"Ah, good. You're finally awake. You were dropped off here at Gil'ead days ago. Then again the soldiers that brought you were given strict orders to keep you drugged until your arrival and it seems they may have used too large of a dose for the journey."

At the moment all I could honestly manage was to blink in confusion. I was still trying to remember what happened to cause me to be here to begin with. I was just glad to vaguely realize that my neckerchief and gloves were still on.

The memory of how I ended up here was slow to return but eventually it did. If the Shade in front of me, fore I have no idea what else he could be, isn't asking about my magic or Riders mark, then the Ra'zac must have thought it was just Eragon using magic the whole time.

The crack of the whip going past my ear caught my attention back onto the shade.

"Now that I have your attention again, why don't we start today's questioning?"

I eyed the whip with trepidation. No matter what he asked, even if I was willing to answer; I would be forced to remain silent without the use of my voice. After that final thought, started a long day of feeling the biting of the whip and his insistent questions. Such as wanting to know how I knew Eragon, when and where did I meet him. As well as where I learned to use a sword, ect.

The questions didn't seem to end, nor did they stop at just the use of the whip. As the days turned into weeks, each new day the shade or another man had a new torture tactic to try and make me speak.

The tactics ranged from the whip, poison, beatings by both him and the guards, knives gracing across different areas of my skin, at times the shade even tried to force his way into my mind on multiple occasions. The part that surprised me was that even when my concentration faltered for a minute. He still never got in, it was as if something or someone else was helping to keep him out.

The shade eventually got frustrated and ordered extra beatings and after these beatings I was not to be healed at the end of the day but to be thrown into the cell with the elf. The first beating started that day with a kick to my ribs. By the time they were done and I was dragged to the elfs cell, I was barely conscious.

They tossed me in and relocked the door, it was almost like they actually expected me to be able to even get up and run without help. Once they walked away, I tried to roll to my side, but the pain that laced through it said that wasn't going to happen. I could feel my eyes watering again much like earlier. I had a feeling that this is why I wasn't in the dream when Eragon and Brom were attacked.

I had just closed my eyes hoping to get at least a minor amount of sleep before their next beating they were told to give me. But that's when I felt a hand rest against my forehead.

My eyes opened sluggishly and stared into the same piercing eyes of the elf that they had mentioned, and that's when the realization hit me that this was the same elf from the dream.

She looked over all the bruises that were visible to her and then her eyes landed on something that caught her attention. Her hand moved from my forehead and started to reach towards my neck. Frankly I probably should have realized she was reaching for my neckerchief and not my throat but adrenalin kicked in with a large touch of fear and I grabbed her wrist before common sense caught up to me.

My grip wasn't even close to being firm but she stopped her hands forward movement and looked down. I guessed we both noticed my panic and pained filled breaths because she gently pried my hand off of hers and layed one of her hands back over my forehead, calmly running her hands through my hair as if I was a child she knew from growing up around. Though her being an elf I wouldn't be surprised if she did see me as a child.

"Don't be alarmed, I'm not going to harm you. I'm just going to remove your neck wear so that I may see how bad the bruising is around your throat."

I gave a small nod, I wasn't too thrilled about the scar being shown In case a guard walked by, but at this point I doubted them seeing it would make a difference since I was already their prisoner.

Slowly she reached out to untie the neckerchief and this time I didn't try to reach up and stop her. I saw her eyes widen before going back to a neutral look once she saw the scar. I couldn't exactly blame her for the reaction, even if she tried to cover it up quickly. Most people expected scars like that on experienced soldiers or hired fighters. Not someone who's six months away from being seventeen. Up until a few months ago I didn't even know how I got the scar.

She gently retied the neckerchief back around my neck before leaning towards my ear.

"Don't let Durza see that or he'll cart you off to the king immediately."

I didn't even get a chance to wonder what she meant by that before soldiers approached and yanked her to her feet. Dragging her and whatever answer she could have given me away. Four days went by between the extra beatings and the elf basically being comatose on the cot that laid within her cell.

The guards spoke of a new prisoner being held here, another one that the shade was interested in. I wanted to hope that it was and wasn't Eragon. I hoped it was, because then I would get to see him again, but at the same time I didn't want the shade giving him the same treatment as he had been giving to me and the elf. They came to get the elf again and before they left the shade turned to me. I pushed myself as far back to the wall as I could once he smiled at me.

"Oh don't give me that. I was simply going to inform you that the extra beatings were no longer going to be necessary. Especially now that the one I've been questioning you about is here. I'll be sure to inform him that your stay here has been quite eventful."

With that, him and the guards walked off, ignoring the horrified look on my face. I really hoped that Eragon found a way to escape before the shade could hurt him. Even if he has to leave me, at least he would be safer than he is here.

Hours past and I must have fallen asleep for when I finally awoke they were bringing the elf back in. The shade cast his eyes towards me and just smiled before leaving the cell once again. My ribs still ached from the countless beatings, that when a shiver ran up my spine, pain followed at the ribs.

I wanted to contact Eragon but I was worried someone else would somehow find a way to pick up on the conversation, that would be the last thing either of us needed. Instead I fell back asleep, ignoring whatever food the guard left knowing that it was more than likely drugged anyways.


The next time I awoke was to the sound of keys opening the cell door and footsteps approaching both me and the elf. When one pair of the footsteps stopped and knelt beside me I finally cracked open an eye.

Adrenalin shot through me at the sight of a ragged, bearded man and when he reached forward, my arm shot out to smack his hand away. My aim was off and I nearly hit his face instead of his hand when he pulled his head back out of reach. I was about to back pedal back against the wall, pain or no pain when Eragon's voice cut from across the room.

"Lyalle?"

My movement stopped and I looked towards him as he quickly made his way to my side.

He gently laid a hand on my shoulder, both of us not breaking eye contact. "Is it really you?"

I could only nod. Usually I don't think I would be this dumbstruck but I honestly didn't think I'd see him again.

"Can you stand?"

I nodded, it would be painful but still manageable as long as I could lean against a wall as often as possible. The whole time I refused to use magic to heal myself in case the shade or any of the guards caught onto it or caught me in the middle of doing it, and I knew that even if I escaped the cell I never would have made it out of the city.

The man with the beard turned to look at us after pulling his eyes away from the elf. "Are you strong enough to carry her?" Eragon and I both shook our heads at the same time, though the man probably only meant for the question to be aimed at Eragon.

"Then I'll do it," said the man as he slung the elf across his shoulders. "Now, upstairs!" He handed Eragon a dagger, then hurried back into the hall littered with soldier's bodies. I kept my eyes up so that I wouldn't be staring directly at their faces, just in case they weren't only knocked out.

With heavy footsteps the man led Eragon and I to a stone-hewn staircase at the end of the hall. Each breath felt like a stitch in my side but I still tried to keep up, Eragon made sure to look back at me a few times to make sure I wasn't too far behind him. As we climbed the stairs, Eragon asked, "How are we going to get out without being noticed?"

"We're not," grunted the man.

I looked at Eragon wondering where he met this person, that's when I remembered seeing a man only a few years older than Eragon and I in my dream. This must be him.

We all listened anxiously for soldiers or anyone else who might be nearby, dreading what might happen if we met the shade. At the head of the stairs was a banquet room filled with broad wooden tables. Shields lined the walls, and the wood ceiling was trussed with curved beams. The stranger laid the elf on a table and looked at the ceiling worriedly. "Can you talk to Saphira for me?"

"Yes."

"Tell her to wait another five minutes."

There were shouts in the distance. Soldiers marched past the entrance to the banquet room. I stayed by the Elf while I noticed Eragon's mouth tightened with pent-up tension. "Whatever you're planning to do, I don't think we have much time."

"Just tell her, and stay out of sight," snapped the stranger, running off. While Eragon relayed the message, we were both alarmed to hear men coming up the stairs. Fighting hunger and exhaustion off, we dragged the elf off the table and hid her underneath it. We crouched next to her, both of us holding our breaths, while Eragon was tightly clenching the dagger.

Ten soldiers entered the room. They swept through it hurriedly, looking under only a couple of tables, and continued on their way. I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding, while Eragon leaned against a table leg, sighing.

Eragon seemed to notice something and suddenly dashed from his hiding spot to grab a tankard and a plate of half-eaten food on the other side of the room, before coming back to hide under the table.

Eragon offered me a drink from the tankard but I passed on the offer when I noticed it was beer in it. But we both split the bread for the time being. I guess Eragon or the stranger noticed the uneaten food in the cell me and the Elf shared, which I was very grateful for. I tried to avoid the food as often as possible when I noticed it was drugged.

The stranger returned carrying Zar'roc, a strange bow, and an elegant sword without a sheath. I started to wonder where mine was but then remembered the last time I saw it, it was strapped to my saddle when I got knocked off. The stranger gave Zar'roc to Eragon. "I found the other sword and bow in the boardroom. I've never seen weapons like them before, so I assumed they were the elf's."

"Let's find out," said Eragon through a mouthful of bread. I rolled my eyes and couldn't help but wonder how he hasn't choked on his food after all these years, from as often as he does that.

The sword--slim and light with a curved crossguard, the ends of which narrowed into sharp points-- fit the elf's sheath perfectly. There was no way to tell if the bow was hers, but it was shaped so gracefully I doubted it could be anyone else's.

"Eragon what's the strangers name?"

"Oh right. His name is Murtagh." I nodded in acknowledgement

"What now?" he asked, cramming another bite of food into his mouth. "We can't stay here forever. Sooner or later the soldiers will find us."

"Now," said Murtagh, taking out his own bow and fitting an arrow to the string, "we wait. Like I said, our escape has been arranged."

"You don't understand; there's a Shade here! If he finds us, we're doomed." I shuddered before nodding.

"A Shade!" exclaimed Murtagh. "In that case, tell Saphira to come immediately. We were going to wait until the watch changed, but delaying even that long is too dangerous now." Eragon seemed to relay the message before Murtagh continued.  "You messed up my plans by escaping by yourself," grounded Murtagh, watching the room's entrances for soldiers. I smiled because it was just like Eragon or even myself to make someone's plans go a different direction. For instance, even with Uncle Garrow's permission Brom wasn't planning on teaching me to read the ancient language until I found one of his own books written similarly to how mom's journal was written.

Eragon smiled. "In that case, perhaps I should have waited. Your timing was perfect, though. I wouldn't have been able to even crawl if I had been forced to fight all those soldiers with magic."

"Glad to be of some use," remarked remarked the stranger.

I smiled at both of them. "I'm glad you met him then Eragon. The only reason I never tried to get out myself was because I figured I wouldn't get very far on just magic alone. And I didn't want to tip the Shade off to the fact that I have magic to begin with."

"Don't worry you did good. I'm glad you're safe Lyalle."

"I'm glad you're safe as well Eragon."

I figured I could ask for details about Brom and Midnight once we were safely out of here.

We all stiffened as we heard men running nearby. "Let's just hope the Shade doesn't find us."

"Great he jinxed us by saying that."

"What do you mean?"

"Just wait and watch."

"It's fine. You've just listened to Gertrude and Katrina too much."

A cold chuckle filled the banquet room and I shot Eragon an I told you so look. "I'm afraid it's far too late for that."

Murtagh and Eragon spun around while I stayed in front of the elf. The Shade stood alone at the end of the room. In his hand was a pale sword with a thin scratch on the blade. He unclasped the brooch that held his cape in place and let the garment fall to the floor. His body was like a runner's, thin and compact, but I never forgot Brom's warning and I hope that Eragon didn't either. I knew the Shade's appearance was deceiving; he was many times stronger than a normal human.

"So, my young Rider, do you wish to test yourself against me?" sneered the Shade. "I shouldn't have trusted the captain when he said you ate all your food. I will not make that mistake again."

"I'll take care of him," said the stanger quietly, putting down his bow and drawing his sword. I quickly grabbed his hand before he could pull it out of the sheath completely.

"No," said Eragon under his breath. "He wants me alive, not you. I can stall him for a short while, but then you'd better have a way out for us."

"Fine, go," said Murtagh, who then nodded to me and I pulled my hand away from his. "You won't have to hold him off for long."

"I hope not," said Eragon grimly. He drew Zar'roc and slowly advanced. The red blade glinted with light from the torches on the wall.

The Shade's maroon eyes burned like coals. He laughed softly. "Do you really think to defeat me, Du Súndavar Freohr? What a pitiful name. I would have expected something more subtle from you, but I suppose that's all you're capable of."

I honestly couldn't help the look I gave Eragon. I mean honestly why on earth would he say that's his name or whatever he was telling him that for.

I was glad when Eragon refused to let himself be goaded. He stared at the Shade's face, waiting for a flicker of his eyes or twitch of his lip, anything that would betray his next move.

Before either of them moved, the ceiling boomed and shook. Dust hollowed from it and turned the air gray while pieces of wood fell around us, shattering on the floor. From the roof came screams and the sound of clashing metal. More than likely afraid of being brained by the falling timber, Eragon gazed upward. The Shade took advantage of his distraction and attacked.

Eragon barely managed to get Zar'roc up in time to block a slash at his ribs if I hadn't thrown the plate from earlier at the Shade's face, though I shivered again when the Shade shot me an annoyed look. Their blades met with a clang that probably jarred Eragon's teeth and looked like it numbed his arm. He grasped Zar'roc with both hands and swung with all of his might at the Shade's head. The Shade blocked him with ease, whipping his sword through the air faster than Eragon and I had thought possible.

Terrible screeches sounded above us, like iron spikes being drawn across rock. Three long cracks split the ceiling. Shingles from the slate roof fell through the fissures. Eragon seemed to ignore them, even when one smashed into the floor next to him. Though we had both trained with a master of the blade, Brom, and I assume Murtagh, who seemed like a deadly swordsman just from his stance, I could tell Eragon was still outclassed and if I was fighting so would I. The Shade was playing with Eragon.

Eragon retreated toward Murtagh and I, his arms trembling as he parried the Shade's blows. I would throw another plate but I didn't see one and the Shade was giving me the stink eye when he saw me looking for one. Apparently he didn't like the last one thrown at him. Each blow from the Shade seemed more powerful than the last and that's just from what I could see, let alone what it must feel like to Eragon.

I doubt Eragon even has enough energy to call upon his magic. Before I could even think of a spell the Shade gave a contemptuous flick of his wrist, and knocked Zar'roc out of Eragon's hand. The force of the blow sent him to his knees, where he stayed, panting.

I wanted to run forward to help but Murtagh gripped my shoulder before drawing an arrow from his quiver. The screeching was louder than ever. Whatever was happening, it was getting closer. I would wonder what it all was but I had a strong feeling that it was either Saphira or Midnight.

The Shade stared down at Eragon haughtily. "A powerful piece you may be in the game that is being played, but I'm disappointed that this is your best. If the other Riders were this weak, they must have controlled the Empire only through sheer numbers."

I thought that was a bit unfair since Eragon was weak because of hunger, thirst, and more than likely a severe lack of proper sleep.

Then I noticed Eragon look up and shake his head. I guess he also figured out what Murtagh's plan was. "No, you forget something."

"And what might that be?" asked the Shade mockingly.

There was a thunderous reverberation as a chunk of the ceiling was torn away to reveal the night sky. "The dragons!" roared Eragon over the noise, and threw himself out of the Shade's reach. The Shade snarled in rage, swinging his sword viciously. He missed and lunged. Surprise spread across his face as one of Murtagh's arrows sprouted from his shoulder.

The Shade laughed and snapped the arrow off with two fingers. "You'll have to do better than that if you want to stop me." The next arrow caught him between the eyes. The Shade howled with agony and writhed, pain covering his face. His skin turned gray. Mist formed in the air around him, obscuring his figure. There was a shattering cry; then the cloud vanished.

Where the Shade had been, nothing was left but his cape and a pile of clothes. "You killed him!" exclaimed Eragon. We both only knew of two heroes of legend who had survived slaying a Shade.

"I'm not so sure," said Murtagh, I frankly had to agree with him but was hoping for the best like Eragon.

A man shouted, "That's it. He failed. Go in and get them!"

Soldiers with nets and spears poured into the banquet room from both ends. Eragon, Murtagh, and I backed up against the wall, dragging the elf with us. The men formed a menacing half-circle around us. Then Saphira stuck her head through the hole in the ceiling and roared. She gripped the edge of the opening with her powerful talons and ripped off another large section of the ceiling.

Three soldiers turned and ran, but the rest held their positions.

With a resounding report, the center beam of the ceiling cracked and rained down heavy shingles. Confusion scattered the ranks as they tried to dodge the deadly barrage. Eragon, Murtagh, and I pressed against the wall to avoid the falling debris. Saphira roared again, and the soldiers fled, some getting crushed on the way.

With a final titanic effort, Saphira tore off the rest of the ceiling before jumping into the banquet hall with her wings folded. Her weight splintered a table with a sharp crunch. Crying out with relief, Eragon threw his arms around her. I gave her a quick hug as well while she hummed contentedly.

"I've missed both of you little ones. Midnight will be overjoyed to see you again."

"I'll be ecstatic to see her again as well. Thank you Saphira."

She nodded. Eragon seemed to explain how many of us were here and she seemed uneasy but determined. She kicked the shingles and tables out of the way so she could take off. Murtagh and Eragon pulled the elf out of hiding and handed her to me once I climbed on Saphira's back. Saphira hissed in surprise when she saw her and before she was handed to me. Eragon picked up Zar'roc and then he and Murtagh climbed onto Saphira.

Saphira leapt out of the banquet hall and onto the fortress's roof, where bodies of watchmen lay scattered. "Look!" said Murtagh, pointing. A row of archers filed out of a tower on the other side of the roofless hall.

"Saphira, you have to take off. Now!" warned Eragon.

She unfurled her wings, ran toward the edge of the building, and propelled us all over it with her powerful legs. The extra weight on her back made her drop alarmingly. As she struggled to gain altitude, I heard the musical and for once annoying, twang of bowstrings being released.

I held onto the elf tightly as arrows whizzed toward us in the dark. Saphira roared with pain as she was struck and quickly rolled to the left to avoid the next volley. More arrows perforated the sky, but the night protected us from the shafts' deadly bite. I was worried for Saphira and I could tell Eragon was even more distressed and he bent over to speak to her.

Her breathing was labored and heavy. I clutched even tighter to the elf as we skimmed over Gil'ead, then we left the city behind and veered eastward, soaring upward through the night. Before long a shape came out of the night sky with a roar of jubilation.

Even I couldn't stop the smile from creeping across my face.

"Little one I am glad to see you again!"

"I'm glad to see you as well Midnight. But do you think you can catch us if me and the elf fall off so Saphira only has to carry Murtagh and Eragon?"

"I would catch all four of you if I needed to but to answer your question, yes I can catch you both."

"Alright, warn Eragon and Saphira not to worry. And on the count of three me and the elf will roll off."

"Very well. It is done."

"Alright then. One... Two... Three."  Me and the elf slid off and right onto Midnights back. Her saddle was luckily on so the landing wasn't too ruff and I quickly strapped the elf in before continuing to hold on.

Saphira and Midnight drifted down to a clearing, landed on the crest of a hill, and Saphira rested her outstretched wings on the ground. We were only a league from Gil'ead, not the greatest news but after getting hurt I'm glad Saphira made it this far.

Picketed in the clearing were Snowfire, Stardust, and an unfamiliar horse who must belong to Murtagh, both Snowfire and Murtagh's horses snorted in nervousness when Saphira and Midnight landed.

Eragon and I slid to the ground and started to tend to Saphira's injuries, while Murtagh readied the horses.

Neither of us were able to see well in the darkness, so we had to run our hands blindly over Saphira's wings. Eragon found three places where arrows punctured the thin membrane, leaving bloody holes as thick around as his thumb. I found two in her right wing and healed them quickly before moving on to help Eragon with her left wing. A small piece had also been torn out of the back edge of her left wing. She shivered when our fingers brushed the injuries. We tiredly healed the wounds with words from the ancient language. Then Eragon went to the arrow that was embedded in one of the large muscles of her flying arm. The arrowhead poked through its underside. Warm blood dripped off of it.

Eragon called Murtagh over and instructed us, "Hold her wing down. I have to remove this arrow." He indicated where Murtagh should grip and I grabbed onto a similar area.

Saphira extended her neck and grabbed a tall sapling between her curved teeth. With a yank of her head, she pulled the tree out of the ground and clamped it firmly in her jaws.

"Hold on," Eragon whispered to Murtagh and I, then he broke off the head of the arrow. More than likely trying not to cause any more damage, he swiftly pulled the shaft out of Saphira. As it left her muscle, she threw back her head and whimpered past the tree in her mouth. Her wing jerked involuntarily, clipping Murtagh under the chin and knocking him to the ground, while I had a slightly firmer grip and managed to barely avoid getting clipped in the chin myself.

With a growl, Saphira shook the tree, spraying us with dirt before tossing it away. After Eragon sealed the wound, he helped Murtagh up. "She caught me by surprise," admitted Murtagh, touching his scraped jaw.

"She didn't mean to hit you," assured Eragon. He checked on the unconscious elf.

I looked up at Midnight, "Do you mind carrying her for a bit longer?"

"Of course not little one. She will blend into the darkness much better while on my back anyways. Saphira can take her in the morning if she wants."

I nodded to her before relaying the message to Eragon. I then walked over to Saphira and thanked her for her valiant rescue. Eragon then came over and began speaking to her, so I went over to Stardust and patted her nose in greeting, to finally being able to see her again.

Saphira and Midnight both flew up in a flurry of air, the elf's hair streaming behind her from Midnight's back. Stardust knelt down to her knees and let me climb on, I always knew she was more intelligent than she let on but I did not expect her to realize I would have trouble getting on her so quickly. Once I was on she stood back to her full height and I watched Eragon hurry to Snowfire, and pull himself into the saddle, then we galloped away with Murtagh.

While we rode, me and Eragon tried to remember what we knew about elves. They had long lives--that fact was oftenly repeated--although neither of us knew how long that was. They speak the ancient language, and many could use magic. After the Riders' fall, elves had retreated into seclusion. None of them had been seen in the Empire since.

Eragon wondered why one was found now of all times. I gave him a look that said ' Oh, and why are there suddenly two dragon Riders'? '

That seemed to answer some of his question but not much more.

"Actually Eragon, I think she was carrying Saphira's egg specifically. I overheard the Shade ask her where she sent the egg. And Brom never thought that there was a black egg amongst the three Galbatorix originally had."

Eragon nodded in understanding. We traveled through the night, not stopping even when our flagging strength began to slow us. We continued onward despite burning eyes and clumsy movements, well mine our usually clumsy but now the other two are as well. Behind us, lines of torch-bearing horsemen searched around Gil'ead for our trail

After many bleary hours, dawn lightened the sky. By unspoken consent Eragon and Murtagh stopped the horses and I followed their example. "We have to make camp," Eragon said wearily and I couldn't help agreeing. "I must sleep--whether they catch us or not."

"Agreed," said Murtagh, rubbing his eyes. "Have Saphira and Midnight land. We'll meet them."

We followed Saphira's directions and found her and Midnight drinking from a stream at the base of a small cliff, the elf still slouched on Midnight's back. They both greeted us with a soft bugle as we dismounted.

Murtagh helped Eragon remove the elf from Midnight's saddle and lower her to the ground. Then they sagged against the rock face, exhausted. Midnight and Saphira examined the elf curiously.

"I wonder why she hasn't woken. It's been hours since we left Gil'ead." said Saphira.

I did not hear Eragon's reply but he looked grim.

Murtagh followed their gaze. "As far as I know, she's the first elf the king has captured. Ever since they went into hiding, he's been looking for them without success--until now. So he's either found their sanctuary, or she was captured by chance. I think it was chance. If he had found the elf haven, he would have declared war and sent his army after the elves. Since that hasn't happened, the question is, Were Galbatorix's men able to extract the elves' location before we rescued her?"

"We won't know until she regains consciousness. Tell me what happened after I was captured. How did I end up in Gil'ead?"

Whatever mental comment I would have made at him for not asking me if I knew anything about the soldiers possibly knowing the elves' homeland location died off with what Murtagh said.

"The Urgals are working for the Empire," Murtagh said shortly, pushing back his hair. "And, it seems, the Shade as well. Saphira and I saw the Urgals give you to him-- though I didn't know who it was at the time--and a group of soldiers. They were the ones who took you to Gil'ead."

"It's true," said Saphira, curling up next to them while Midnight did the same to me.

I leaned forward and wrote in the dirt for them all to see, ' the elf called the Shade Durza I think. She told me do not let him see the scar across my neck. Before I could even try to ask her why, she was dragged away for a while. '

Murtagh and Eragon nodded while certain thoughts seemed to pass through Saphira's and Midnight's head.

Suddenly glowering, Eragon exclaimed, "This will mean war! Once the people of the Empire learn of it, they will rebel and support the Varden."

I admire his enthusiasm but he seems to be forgetting Brom's lesson of thinking before action, if he thinks many people will be able to do that.

Murtagh rested his chin in his hand. "Even if they heard of this outrage, few would make it to the Varden. With the Urgals under his command, the king has enough warriors to close the Empire's borders and remain in control, no matter how disruptive people are. With such a rule of terror, he will be able to shape the Empire however he wants. And though he is hated, people could be galvanized into joining him if they had a common enemy."

"Who would that be?" asked Eragon, more or less confused, I patted his shoulder.

"The elves and the Varden. With the right rumors they can be portrayed as the most despicable monsters in Alagaësia--fiends who are waiting to seize your land and wealth. The Empire could even say that the Urgals have been misunderstood all this time and that they are really friends and allies against such terrible enemies. I only wonder what the king promised them in return for their services."

"It wouldn't work," said Eragon, shaking his head. "No one could be deceived that easily about Galbatorix and the Urgals. Besides, why would he want to do that? He's already in power."

"But his authority is challenged by the Varden, with whom people sympathize. There's also Surda, which has defied him since it seceded from the Empire. Galbatorix is strong within the Empire, but his arm is weak outside of it. As for people seeing through his deceptions, they'll believe whatever he wants them to. It's happened before." Murtagh fell silent and gazed moodily into the distance. His words seem to trouble Eragon, though I worried that Murtagh was speaking from experience when I remembered the dream about his father. If he fell for a trick from Galbatorix I do not blame him, no one is perfect and I can remember many times when Eragon fell for one of mine or Roran's pranks.

When I looked over at Eragon he seemed to shudder about something perhaps an after thought that he overlooked. His attention seemed to then be drawn to Saphira before he eventually looked at Murtagh. "You risked your life to rescue us, I owe you for that. I couldn't have escaped on my own, even with Lyalle helping me with the elf."

I had a sense that there was more to it, like him and Murtagh had a new bond between them now, more than likely welded in the brotherhood of battle and tempered by the loyalty Murtagh had shown.

"I'm just glad I could help. It..." Murtagh faltered and rubbed his face. "My main worry now is how we're going to travel with so many men searching for us. Gil'ead's soldiers will be hunting us tomorrow; once they find the horses' tracks, they'll know you didn't fly away with Saphira."

I continued to listen while grabbing my satchel off of Stardust's saddle and digging out some of the medicinal herbs and bandages I had in there, when my hand brushed against an odd bottle, that I didn't recall putting in there.

Eragon glumly agreed, which reminded me of the conversation. "How did you manage to get into the castle?"

Murtagh laughed softly. "By paying a steep bribe and crawling through a filthy scullery chute. But the plan wouldn't have worked without Saphira. She," he stopped and directed his words at her, "that is, you, are the only reason we escaped alive. You and Midnight." I felt Midnight give a low purr at the compliment.

I noticed Eragon solemnly put a hand on Saphira's scaly neck as she hummed contentedly.

I leaned back against Midnight when I pulled the bottle out along with a note tied to it.

As I started to read the note I heard Eragon say that they should make a bed for the Elf.

The note read ' Hello there young Riders', I am an old friend of Brom's.

A name that you might better know me by is Thorn, that is if the old fool bothered to mention me at all.

I know to a certain degree what you boys will go through, though not in great detail. I know this because I am the one who has dreams similar to yours Lyalle. I am sorry that I cannot currently teach you how to handle them as many other things in the land call for my attention as well, so I have prepared ahead of time to help you with what you will need. You may not currently remember yet but we spoke to each other at Angela's shop. With your permission I gave you the location of how to find the Varden and hid it within your mind. It will appear to you when you are most desperate for it. I did this because there was a high chance of you being captured and even with my help there was a possibility of you not being able to prevent the Shade from entering your mind. Though if you are reading this then you can not be far off from remembering our discussion.

This potion is a special blend made by my people very long ago, to counteract any poisons put into the body as well as heal the drinker from any other injuries. Though it is slow acting for the injuries and will still take time. You will need to give this to the elf. Her name is Arya, though that is all that I will say of her without permission. She has been poisoned with a rare poison called Skilna Bragh, more commonly the antidote is typically Túnivor's Nectar, though what I give you now will be much more beneficial for her and will also help her to regain more of her power within time.

that is all I can say for now, I must go and will await our meeting in the homeland of the elves. You will eventually learn of what I mean there.

PS. Be weary of the bald twins. '

My eyes widen at what I had read and I looked up in time to see the cuff of one of Arya's sleeves get torn on a branch. Eragon began to pinch the fabric together, then gasped.

The elf's arm was mottled with a layer of bruises and cuts; some were half healed, while others were fresh and oozing. Eragon shook his head with what seemed to be anger and pulled the sleeve up higher. The injuries continued to her shoulder. With trembling fingers, he unlaced the back of her shirt, dreading what might be under it.

As the leather slipped off, Murtagh cursed. Arya's back was strong and muscled, but it was covered with scabs that made her skin look like dry, cracked mud. She had been whipped mercilessly and branded with hot irons in the shape of claws. I gripped the note to keep my hands from reaching for similar marks on my own back, and began to walk over to them, with both the healing supplies and the potion.

Where her skin was still intact, it was purple and black from numerous beatings. On her left shoulder was a tattoo inscribed with indigo ink. It was the same symbol that had been on the sapphire of Brom's ring. When I was right behind them Eragon turned to look at me and seemed to realize that I had similar treatment as her. Making his mouth go into a thin line.

"Can you heal this?" asked Murtagh.

"I--I don't know," said Eragon. He seemed to swallow back sudden queasiness. "There's so much."

Determination settled over Eragon's face as he pulled off his gloves and said to Murtagh, "This is going to take some time. Can you get..."

I had lightly grabbed his hand setting down my supplies and showing him the note as he and Murtagh read over it. I left the potion alone for now, I wanted to see what Eragon thought before using it. I felt no Evil intent from it but I knew using it without talking to him about it could be bad.

I cleaned her wounds first, being as gentle as I could but being firm enough to get them cleaned. By the time I finished with her back, both Eragon and Murtagh were looking at me. I stopped my actions and turned to them.

"What do you think Lyalle? You trusted her enough to repress and hide information from yourself, do you think we can trust this Thorn to give us a good potion?"

I nodded and wrote in the dirt ' Solembum said she was also a friend of Angela's, and I feel no ill intent from her or the potion. We'll still need to bandage and heal the most severe wounds but we don't have to exhaust ourselves to do it now and we can be more prepared for a fight if the soldiers catch up to us. '

"What about your own injuries?"

' They aren't as severe and are already partially healed. '

"Fine. Go ahead and use the potion for her. Once she is safe from possibly dying from her wounds then we'll tend to yours."

I nodded, I knew there wasn't a point in arguing with him right now.

The potion bottle wasn't large but I would still have to give it to the elf slowly, otherwise she could still possibly choke from it. I gently lifted her head to rest on my shoulder and parted her mouth wide enough to get the rim of the bottle past her lips so the potion wouldn't immediately fall out of her mouth instead of sliding down her throat.

I massaged her throat to help her swallow and once it was gone, I returned to cleaning and bandaging her wounds. With the potion helping her heal I didn't want to risk using magic and find out how the two would react to her body. From my conversations with Angela before we left the city, I knew it was bad to mix magic healing along with potion healing unless you were that desperate.

I noticed Eragon and Murtagh still standing behind me and motioned them both to get some sleep. They might as well while they had the opportunity. I then went back to my work, only vaguely listening to them say that they would take turns keeping an eye on things.

Dawn had long since passed when Arya was safe from possible infections and her injuries bleeding. I trusted the potion enough to handle the smaller ones such as some of the scratches and bruises.

Murtagh was the one currently awake and he approached me when I stepped back to lean against Saphira. Midnight went to hunt for the both of them, since there was a small forest nearby.

"Is it done?" asked Murtagh.

I nodded, Saphira gently nudged me so that I would sit down and not aggravate my ribs and other injuries more.

"Will she live?"

I looked at Arya and then back to Murtagh and nodded. I had a strong feeling that she will recover with time.

Murtagh nodded "Will you be alright if I check over your injuries?"

I hesitated for a second but nodded. Murtagh helped me remove my shirt when I began to struggle with it on my own. He did not seem pleased at seeing all the bruises and new scars from the brand and whip. But those had already been healed and were now just sore. He grabbed the bandages that were left over, as well as some of the ointment he saw me place on her bruises and applied it to the worst of the bruises on me. My ribs hurt the worst though I still couldn't guarantee if they were broken or not. Nonetheless it did not take long to bandage and get my shirt back on.

I wrote in the dirt for Murtagh to read  ' We should wake Eragon and get moving once Saphira and Midnight have both eaten. It's daylight so I'll ride with Midnight while Saphira carries Arya. That way you and Eragon aren't slowed down so much. '

"Very well, if that is what you wish to do."

I knew he was merely stating it and not asking but I nodded anyways. Midnight then returned and her and Saphira shared the deer she had caught. Once they had finished Murtagh woke Eragon and we packed up camp. Once Arya was strapped to Saphira's saddle and I had strapped myself to Midnight's the four of us took to the air, while Eragon and Murtagh followed us from below with the horse's.

"Sleep little one. You know you are safe on my back, and I will inform you of anything discussed between the others."

"I know. Thank you Midnight."

There was a soft purr from her. "You are welcome little one, now sleep."

I leaned against her neck and shut my eyes, listening to the rhythm of her wings as sleep overtook me.

When we stopped for the evening, Eragon's temper seemed to had worsened. Most of the day for him and Murtagh had been spent on long detours to avoid detection by soldiers with hunting dogs. Eragon dismounted Snowfire while Midnight helped me to slide off her back.

Saphira crouched low to the ground to let Eragon lift the elf out of the saddle. For a moment she was pressed against him before Eragon, hurriedly put her down.

I made dinner since I had gotten more rest flying with Midnight than what they had with the horses. When we all had eaten, Murtagh said, "We can't keep up this pace; we aren't gaining any ground on the soldiers. Another day or two of this and they'll be sure to overtake us."

"What else can we do?" snapped Eragon, causing me to flinch for a second. "If it were just the three of us and you were willing to leave Tornac behind, Saphira could fly us out of here. But with the elf, too? Impossible."

If he wasn't stressed at the moment I'd smack the back of his head for somehow forgetting that him and Saphira were not the only dragon and rider. The elf could ride with me but I did not fancy the idea of leaving Stardust behind, though I had a vague suspicion that if I did she would find a way to find me again. Saphira must have reminded Eragon that they weren't alone for he gave me a guilty glance.

Murtagh looked at him carefully. "If you want to go your own way, I won't stop you. I can't expect you and Saphira to stay and risk imprisonment."

"Don't insult me," Eragon muttered. "The only reason Lyalle and I are free is because of you. I'm not going to abandon you to the Empire. Poor thanks that would be!"

Murtagh bowed his head. "Your words hearten me." He paused. "But they don't solve our problem."

"What can?" Eragon asked. He gestured to the elf. "I wish she could tell us where the elves are; perhaps we could seek sanctuary with them."

"Considering how they've protected themselves, I doubt she'd reveal their location. Even if she did, the others of her kind might not welcome us. Why would they want to shelter us anyway? The last Riders they had contact with were Galbatorix and the Forsworn. I doubt that left them with pleasant memories. And I don't even have the dubious honor of being a Rider like you two. No, they would not want me at all."

I had a sneaking suspicion he was referring to his parentage more than himself, but he should not suffer for the sins of his father. Saphira shifted her wings to a more comfortable position.

Eragon shrugged. "Even if they would protect us, we can't find them, and it's impossible to ask the elf until she regains consciousness. We must flee, but in which direction--north, south, east, or west?"

Murtagh laced his fingers together and pressed his thumbs against his temples. "I think the only thing we can do is leave the Empire. The few safe places within it are far from here. They would be difficult to reach without being caught or followed. . . .There's nothing for us to the north except the forest of Du Weldenvarden--which we might be able to hide in, but I don't relish going back past Gil'ead. Only the Empire and the sea lie westward. To the south is Surda, where you might be able to find someone to direct you to the Varden. As for going east. . ." He shrugged. "To the east, the Hadarac Desert stands between us and whatever lands exist in that direction. The Varden are somewhere across it, but without directions it might take us years to find them, or until Lyalle's memory of their whereabouts returns."

"We would be safe, though."  Remarked Saphira. "As long as we didn't encounter any Urgals." I nodded in agreement to what she said.

Eragon knitted his brow. It looked like a headache was threatening to attack him. "It's too dangerous to go to Surda. We would have to traverse most of the Empire, avoiding every town and village. There are too many people between us and Surda to get there unnoticed."

Murtagh raised an eyebrow. "So you want to go across the desert?"

"I don't see any other options. Besides, that way we can leave the Empire before the Ra'zac get here. With their flying steeds, they'll probably arrive in Gil'ead in a couple of days, so we don't have much time."

"Even if we do reach the desert before they get here," said Murtagh, "they could still overtake us. It'll be hard to outdistance them at all."

Eragon rubbed Saphira's side, while I continued to lean against Midnight.

"That's assuming they can follow our trail. To catch us, though, they'll have to leave the soldiers behind, which is to our advantage. If it comes to a fight, I think the five of us can defeat them. . . as long as we aren't ambushed the way Brom and I were."

"If we reach the other side of the Hadarac safely," said Murtagh slowly, "where will we go? Those lands are well outside of the Empire. There will be few cities, if any. And then there is the desert itself. What do you know of it?"

"Only that it's hot, dry, and full of sand," confessed Eragon, which I nodded to as well.

"That about sums it up," replied Murtagh. "It's filled with poisonous and inedible plants, venomous snakes, scorpions, and a blistering sun. You saw the great plain on our way to Gil'ead?"

I'm certain it was a rhetorical question, but Eragon answered anyway, "Yes, and once before."

"Then you are familiar with its immense range. It fills the heart of the Empire. Now imagine something two or three times its size, and you'll understand the vastness of the Hadarac Desert. That is what you're proposing to cross."

The idea did seem incredibly difficult, but I had faith that it was still accomplishable.

Eragon retrieved the map of Alagaësia from his saddlebags. The parchment smelled musty as he unrolled it on the ground. He inspected the plains and shook his head in what I could guess was amazement. "No wonder the Empire ends at the desert. Everything on the other side is too far away for Galbatorix to control."

Murtagh swept his hand over the right side of the parchment. "All the land beyond the desert, which is blank on this map, was under one rule when the Riders lived. If the king were to raise up new Riders under his command, it would allow him to expand the Empire to an unprecedented size. But that wasn't the point I was trying to make. The Hadarac Desert is so huge and contains so many dangers, the chances are slim that we can cross it unscathed. It is a desperate path to take."

"We are desperate," said Eragon firmly, though I doubted that any path we take would leave us unscathed.

He studied the map carefully. "If we rode through the belly of the desert, it would take us well over a month, perhaps even two, to cross it. But if we angle southeast, toward the Beor Mountains, we could cut through much faster. Then we can either follow the Beor Mountains farther east into the wilderness or go west to Surda. If this map is accurate, the distance between here and the Beor roughly equal to what we covered on our way to Gil'ead."

"But that took us nearly a month!"

Eragon shook his head impatiently, live with him long enough and it's easy to tell. "Our ride to Gil'ead was slow on account of my injuries. If we press ourselves, it'll take only a fraction of that time to reach the Beor Mountains."

"And what of Lyalle's injuries?"

"Saphira carries Arya during the day and Midnight carries her at night. If my injuries get bad enough to the point of slowing us down I could ride on whoever is not carrying Arya."

I turned to the dragons, "As long as you two are alright with that?"

"Of course little one. Do not worry for us." Saphira also nodded her consent.

"Lyalle can ride whichever dragon is not carrying Arya if his wounds start to slow us down."

"Enough, fine. You made your point," acknowledged Murtagh. "Before I consent, however, something must be solved. As I'm sure you noticed, I bought supplies for us and the horses while I was in Gil'ead. But how can we get enough water? The roving tribes who live in the Hadarac usually disguise their wells and oases so no one can steal their water. And carrying enough for more than a day is impractical. Just think about how much Saphira and Midnight drink! They and the horses consume more water at one time than we do in a week. Unless you can make it rain whenever we need, I don't see how we can go the direction you propose."

Eragon rocked back on his heels. Making rain was well beyond both of our power. It's possible that even the strongest Riders couldn't do that. Moving that much air was like trying to lift a mountain. We need a solution that would not drain all of our strength.

"I have an idea," he said. "Let me experiment, then I'll give you an answer." Eragon strode out of the camp, with Saphira following closely.

I wrote in the dirt since Eragon wasn't in the clearing to speak for me. ' You rescuing us is not the only reason it would be an insult to us to suggest leaving you. It is also because we would never abandon our friends, and I'd like to say that Eragon sees it the same way and considers you our friend if you will let us? '

I tossed a pebble at his foot since he wasn't looking in my direction. When he looked over I pointed towards the message.

He seemed shocked for a moment, "I do not think you would want me as your friend if you knew who my father was. . ."

' I do not know if Eragon told you or not, but I have these visions that sometimes show me what is to come, what is happening at that moment, and sometimes what has happened in the past.

One time, I saw a boy trying to run from his drunken father just to have a sword thrown at him. I also saw my own father trying to prevent me from ever speaking and quite possibly try to kill me as well. My point being, I am sorry that it was not by your permission that I saw what your father did to you and that I do know who he is... But I do not care. The sins of the father should not be passed on to the son. But if it does make you feel better, I have not told Eragon, it was never my secret to tell to begin with. '

Murtagh was speechless for a few minutes before quietly, "Thank you."

I smiled at him ' You are welcome, though no thanks are needed. '

He returned the smile and we both lapsed into a comfortable silence until Eragon returned.

When he returned to the clearing Murtagh looked up and asked, "Well? Is the desert open to us?"

"It is," acknowledged Eragon. He flopped onto his blankets and explained what he had learned to us, which was apparently to draw the water from underground to the surface when we needed it.

When he finished, Eragon turned to the elf. Her face was the last thing he saw before falling asleep.

I could feel he was becoming attached to her whether he has realized that for himself is unknown to me.

Chapter 15: Fleeing to the Varden

Notes:

Conversations with just " " are people speaking out loud. Conversations with ' ' and italicized are written conversations. Conversations that are both bold and italicized are mental conversations. With this out of the way I hope you enjoy the story.

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We forced ourselves to rise early in the gray predawn hours. Eragon shivered in the cool air and I was stubbornly clinging onto Midnights side in order to stay warm.

"How are we going to transport the elf? She can't ride on Saphira or Midnight's back much longer without getting sores from her scales. They can't carry her in their claws--it tires them and makes landing dangerous. A sledge won't work; it would get battered to pieces while we ride, and I don't want the horses slowed by the weight of another person."

Murtagh considered the matter as he saddled Tornac. "If you were to ride Saphira, we could lash the elf onto Snowfire, but we'd have the same problem with sores."

"I have a solution," said Saphira unexpectedly. "Why don't you tie the elf to my belly? I'll still be able to move freely, and she will be safer than anywhere else. The only danger will be if soldiers shoot arrows at me, but I can easily fly above those."

None of us could come up with a better option and even Midnight agreed with the idea, so we quickly adopted hers. Eragon folded one of his blankets in half lengthwise, secured it around Arya's petite form, then took her to Saphira.

Blankets and spare clothes were sacrificed to form ropes long enough to encircle Saphira's girth. With those ropes, Arya was tied back-first against Saphira's belly, her head between Saphira's front legs. Eragon looked critically at our handiwork. "I'm afraid your scales may rub through the ropes."

"We'll have to check them occasionally for fraying," commented Murtagh and I nodded in agreement, though I also knew that if it truly became a danger of breaking, that both dragons would catch Arya long before she could hit the ground.

Eragon asked us if we should go now and I nodded, Murtagh's eyes sparked dangerously, a tight smile lifting his lips. He glanced back the way we had come, where smoke from soldier's camps were clearly visible, and said, "I always did like races."

"And now we are in one for our lives!"

Stardust once again lowered herself to make it easier for me to mount her and I patted her neck in thanks once she stood up again. Murtagh swung into Tornac's saddle and trotted out of the camp. Eragon followed close behind on Snowfire, while me and Stardust took up the rear. Saphira and Midnight jumped into the air with Arya. They flew low to the ground to avoid being seen by the soldiers. In this fashion, the five of us made our way southeast toward the distant Hadarac Desert.

Eragon and I kept a quick eye out for pursuers as we rode. Though Eragon's mind did seem to be wandering elsewhere.

For the rest of the day, we sped through the land, ignoring discomfort and fatigue. We drove the horses as much as we could without killing them. Sometimes we dismounted and ran on foot to give the horses a rest. Only twice did we stop--both times to let the horses eat and drink.

Though the soldiers of Gil'ead were far behind now, we found ourselves having to avoid new soldiers every time we passed a town or village. Somehow the alarm had been sent ahead of us. Twice we were nearly ambushed along the trail, escaping only because Saphira and Midnight happened to smell the men ahead of us. After the second incident, we avoided the trail entirely.

Dusk softened the countryside as evening drew a black cloak across the sky. Through the night we traveled, relentlessly pacing out the miles. In the deepest hours of night, the ground rose beneath us to form low cactus-dotted hills.

Murtagh pointed forward. "There's a town, Bullridge, some leagues ahead that we must bypass. They're sure to have soldiers watching for us. We should try to slip past them now while it's dark."

After three hours we saw the straw-yellow lanterns of Bullridge. A web of soldiers patrolled between watch fires scattered around the town. Eragon, Murtagh, and I muffled our sword sheaths and carefully dismounted. We led the horses in a wide detour around Bullridge, listening attentively to avoid stumbling on an encampment.

With the town behind us, Eragon relaxed slightly. Daybreak finally flooded the sky with a delicate blush and warmed the chilly night air. We halted on the crest of a hill to observe our surroundings. The Ramr River was to our left, but it was also five miles to our right. The river continued south for several leagues, then doubled back on itself in a narrow loop before curving west, reminding me of how Brom said it eventually led out to sea. We had covered over sixteen leagues in one day.

Eragon leaned against Snowfire's neck, happy with the distance we had gone. "Let's find a gully or hollow where we can sleep undisturbed." We stopped at a small stand of juniper trees and laid our blankets beneath them. Midnight waited patiently as we untied Arya from her belly.

"I'll take the first watch and wake you at mid morning," said Murtagh, setting his bare sword across his knees. Eragon mumbled his assent and pulled the blankets over his shoulders, while I gave Murtagh a nod.

Nightfall found us worn and drowsy but determined to continue. As we prepared to leave I noticed Saphira approach Eragon and speak to him.

"What's wrong?" asked Murtagh over Tornac's back.

"Arya," said Eragon, looking down at her. "Saphira is troubled that she hasn't woken or eaten; it disturbs me too. The potion seems to have healed her wounds, at least on the surface, but it doesn't seem to have done her any good."

"Eragon the note explaining the potion said it would take some time to fully heal her, remember?"

"Maybe the Shade tampered with her mind," suggested Murtagh and I couldn't help but think that he must have certainly tried to have done so.

"Then we have to help her." I gave a huff at him not listening to what I told him.

Murtagh knelt by Arya. He examined her intently, then shook his head and stood. "As far as I can tell, she's only sleeping. It seems as if I could wake her with a word or a touch, yet she slumbers on. Her coma might be something elves self-induce to escape the pain of injury, but if so, why doesn't she end it? There's no danger to her now."

"But does she know that?" asked Eragon quietly, that I almost missed it, being by Stardust and getting her saddle ready and what not.

Murtagh put a hand on his shoulder. "This must wait. We have to leave now or risk losing our hard-won lead. You can tend to her later when we stop."

"One thing first," said Eragon. He soaked a rag, then squeezed the cloth so water dripped between the elf's sculpted lips. He did that several times and dabbed above her straight, angled eyebrows, looking oddly protective.

We headed through the hills, avoiding the tops for fear of being spotted by sentries. Saphira and Midnight stayed with us on the ground for the same reason, though Midnight was at the size of when she hatched so that there was more room for us all and she could fit on my shoulder.

Despite Saphira's current bulk, she was stealthy; only her tail could be heard scraping over the ground, like a thick blue snake.

Eventually the sky brightened in the east. The morning star Aiedail appeared as we reached the edge of a steep bank covered with mounds of brush. Water roared below as it tore over boulders and sluiced through branches.

"The Ramr!" said Eragon over the noise.

Murtagh nodded. "Yes! We have to find a place to ford safely."

"That isn't necessary," said Saphira. "Midnight and I can carry you across, no matter how wide the river is."

Eragon looked up at her blue-gray form.

"What about the horses? We can't leave them behind. They're too heavy for you to lift."

"As long as you're not on them and they don't struggle too much, I'm sure that we can carry them. If I can dodge arrows with four people on my back, I can certainly fly a horse in a straight line over a river."

"I believe you, but let's not attempt it unless we have to. It's too dangerous."

She clambered down the embankment. "We can't afford to squander time here."

Eragon followed her, leading Snowfire. The bank came to an abrupt end at the Ramr, where the river ran dark and swift. White mist wafted up from the water, like blood steaming in winter. It was impossible to see the far side. Murtagh tossed a branch into the torrent and watched it race away, bobbing on the rough water. I stayed as far as I could get from it by Midnight, who was once again full size.

"How deep do you think it is?" asked Eragon.

"I can't tell," said Murtagh, worry coloring his voice. "Can you see how far across it is with magic?"

"I don't think so, not without lighting up this place like a beacon."

With a gust of air, Saphira took off and soared over the Ramr. After a short time, she said, "I'm on the other bank. The river is over a half-mile wide. You couldn't have chosen a worse place to cross; the Ramr bends at this point and is at its widest."

"A half-mile!" exclaimed Eragon. He told Murtagh about Saphira's and Midnight's offer to fly us.

"I'd rather not try it, for the horse's sake. Tornac isn't as accustomed to Saphira or Midnight as Snowfire and Stardust. He might panic and injure them both. Ask Saphira to look for shallows where we can swim over safely. If there aren't any within a mile in either direction, then I suppose they can ferry us."

At Eragon's request, Saphira agreed to search for a ford, though I was hoping none would be found. While she explored, we hunkered next to the horses and ate dry bread. It was not long before Saphira returned, her velvet wings whispering in the early dawn sky. "The water is both deep and strong, upstream as well as downstream."

Once he was told, Murtagh said, "I'd better go over first, so I can watch the horses." He scrambled onto Saphira's saddle. "Be careful with Tornac. I've had him for many years. I don't want anything to happen to him." Then Saphira took off.

When she returned, the unconscious elf had been untied from her belly. Eragon led Tornac to Saphira, ignoring the horse's low whinnies. Saphira reared back on her haunches to grasp the horse around the belly with her forelegs. Eragon eyed her formidable claws and said, "Wait!" He repositioned Tornac's saddle blanket, strapping it to the horse's belly so it protected his soft underside, then gestured for Saphira to take off while I did the same thing to Snowfire and Stardust.

Tornac snorted in fright and tried to bolt when Saphira's forelegs clamped around his sides and Snowfire did not seem to like it either when Midnight grabbed him, but they both held the horses tightly. The horse rolled his eyes wildly, the whites rimming his dilated pupils. Eragon tried to gentle Tornac with his mind, but the horse's panic resisted his touch.

Before either horse could try another escape, Saphira and Midnight jumped skyward, their hind legs thrusting with such force that their claws gouged the rocks underneath. Their wings strained furiously, struggling to lift the enormous load they both had. For a moment it seemed they would fall back to the ground.

Then, with a lunge, they shot into the air. Tornac screamed in terror, kicking and tossing. Snowfire trumpeting his own protestations. It was a terrible sound, like screeching metal.

Eragon swore, probably wondering if anyone was close enough to hear. "You'd better hurry, Saphira."

I relayed a similar message to Midnight. We listened for soldiers as we waited, scanning the inky landscape for the telltale flash of torches. It soon met our eyes in a line of horsemen sliding down a bluff almost a league away.

As Saphira landed, Eragon brought Stardust to her, while I went to Midnight and we waited for Eragon. "Murtagh's silly animal is in hysterics. He had to tie Tornac down to prevent him from running away." She gripped Stardust and carried her off, Stardust only tensing slightly from what I could see.

I offered my hand to Eragon to pull him up behind me on Midnight.  The horsemen were only a mile away when we took to the air, soon though we were on firm ground, with the Ramr to our backs. Once the horse's were calmed (mainly Tornac and Snowfire oddly, but not surprisingly) and the saddles readjusted, we resumed our flight toward the Beor Mountains. The air filled with the calls of birds waking to a new day.

Eragon dozed even when walking. He seemed barely aware that Murtagh was just as drowsy. There were times when neither of them guided the horses, and it was thanks to Saphira and Midnight's vigilance that helped me keep the horses on course. Not to say I wasn't drowsy as well, I just had more practice at remaining vigilant in this state. Nightmares and sleepless nights on a farm when you need to rise early to get breakfast going before everyone else wakes up, is apparently good practice at staying functional with a lack of sleep.

Eventually the ground became soft and gave way under our feet, forcing us to halt. The sun was high overhead. The Ramr River was no more than a fuzzy line behind us, and I was perfectly happy with that. We had reached the Hadarac Desert.



A vast expanse of dunes spread to the horizon like ripples on an ocean. Bursts of wind twirled the reddish gold sand into the air. Scraggly trees grew on scattered patches of solid ground--ground any farmer would have declared unfit for crops. Rising in the distance was a line of purple crags. The imposing desolation was barren of any animals except for a bird gliding on the zephyrs.

"You're sure we'll find food for the horses out there?" queried Eragon, slurring his words. The hot, dry air stung his throat, though frankly it stung all our throats.

"See those?" asked Murtagh, indicating the crags. "Grass grows around them. It's short and tough, but the horses will find it sufficient."

"I hope you're right," said Eragon, squinting at the sun. "Before we continue, let's rest. My mind is slow as a snail, and I can barely move my legs."

We untied Arya from Saphira, ate, then lay in the shadow of a dune for a nap. As Eragon and I settled into the sand, Saphira and Midnight coiled up on either side of us and spread their wings over us. "This is a wondrous place," Saphira said, while Midnight hummed in agreement. "I could spend years here and not notice the passing time."

I smiled at her, while Eragon closed his eyes and agreed with her in a drowsy manner.

"Not only that, I feel as though I was made for this desert. It has the space I need, mountains where I could roost, and camouflaged prey that I could spend days hunting. And the warmth! Cold does not disturb me, but this heat makes me feel alive and full of energy."

She craned her head toward the sky, stretching happily, while I patted her neck gently.

Her and Eragon shared some more words but I had already laid down and fallen asleep by then. It was the morning of the fourth day since leaving Gil'ead. We had already covered thirty-five leagues.

We slept just long enough to clear our minds and rest the horses. No soldiers could be seen to the rear, but that did not lull us into slowing our pace. We knew that the Empire would keep searching until we were far beyond the king's reach. Eragon said, "Couriers must have carried news of my escape to Galbatorix. He would have alerted the Ra'zac. They're sure to be on our trail by now. It'll take them a while to catch us even by flying, but we should be ready for them at all times."

"And this time they will find I am not so easily bound with chains," said Saphira.

Murtagh scratched his chin. "I hope they won't be able to follow us past Bullridge. The Ramr was an effective way to lose pursuers; there's a good chance our tracks won't be found again."

"Something to hope for indeed," said Eragon as he checked on Arya. Her condition was unchanged; she still did not react to his ministrations. "I place no faith in luck right now, though. The Ra'zac could be on our trail even as we speak."

At sunset we arrived at the crags we had viewed from afar that morning. The imposing stone bluffs towered over us, casting thin shadows. The surrounding area was free of dunes for a half mile. Heat assailed us like a physical blow as we dismounted onto the baked, cracked ground. The back of Eragon's neck and his face were sunburned; his skin looked hot and feverish. I used my neckerchief to keep the sun off my neck and lower face, and my bangs thankfully kept the rest of my face from being sunburned.

After picketing the horses where they could nibble the sparse grass, Murtagh started a small fire. "How far do you think we went?" Eragon asked, releasing Arya from Saphira.

"I don't know!" snapped Murtagh, making me flinch for a second. His skin was red, his eyes bloodshot. He picked up a pot and muttered a curse. "We don't have enough water. And the horses have to drink."

Eragon seemed just as irritated by the heat and dryness, but he held his temper in check; the heat and dryness did not particularly bother me, and my clothes were long and thick enough to prevent the sun from burning me too easily. Roran would probably tease me, and say I need a tan from as pale as I was, but I frankly, am quite content to avoid a sunburn for as long as I can get away with it.

"Bring the horses." Saphira and Midnight dug a hole for him with their claws, then Eragon closed his eyes, releasing the spell. Though the ground was parched, there was enough moisture for the plants to live on and enough for him to fill the hole several times over.

Murtagh and I refilled the waterskins as water pooled in the hole, then stood aside and let the horses drink. The thirsty animals quaffed gallons. Eragon was forced to draw the liquid from ever deeper in the earth to satisfy their desire. When the horses were finally sated, he said to Saphira and Midnight, "If you need a drink, take it now." They both snaked their heads around him and took two long Draughts each, but no more.

Before letting the water flow back into the ground, Eragon gulped down as much as he could and I did the same, then we watched the last drops melt back into the dirt.

"Next time we need more water I can draw it from the earth. This way we can save strength by taking turns."

"Alright, that sounds like a good idea Lyalle."

I smiled at him before going to Midnight and falling asleep next to her.



Things swirled around me before sharply coming into focus, allowing me to realize that I was back in Angela's shop. Me and Solembum were facing the door and looking at a woman in a crimson cloak. Her hair was darker than a ravens feathers, and her eyes were mostly silver but seemed to have swirls of crimson towards the center. That is until they changed to blue without warning.

My eyes widen and I gaped a little, which seemed to amuse her fore she smiled.

"Do not be alarmed young Rider, I simply thought a more common eye color than my true eye color would be less alarming for you. Many others can also change their appearance with help from the ancient language, but I thought it appropriate to meet you with my true appearance for our first meeting."

I nodded a bit uneasy at first until I noticed Solembum purring at her. She smiled at him, "Yes hello to you as well Solembum. I hope you and Angela have relatively been staying out of trouble."

"For the most part we have, my lady Thorn."

"Well as Solembum has said, my name is Thorn. I am a friend of Brom's"

I nodded and took a better look at her cloak, causing me to realize it was the same one I saw the woman who visited Brom, wearing, when the traders were in Carvahall.

"I am glad you recognize my cloak after you saw me in Carvahall." She smiled at me with amusement in her eyes.

I froze up for a second and felt my cheeks burning.

"Do not be embarrassed young Rider, had I wanted our conversation to not be overheard by you, I would have made no sound capable of escaping the house."

I nodded, there seemed to be no ill will from her and I could tell she was the woman from Carvahall; but I felt like she had a reason for approaching me all of a sudden.

"I'm afraid I don't have much time, but I have come to warn you. A few months from now, possibly even sooner; you may end up in the hands of a Shade. You will also meet an Elf named Arya, she will be poisoned by the Shade and you will need to give her this potion in order to save her in time to help you when you have need of her.

I also wish to give you the information to be able to find the Varden after you, have rescued her. I will give it to you now, but only if you allow me to suppress the memory from you so that the shade Durza does not find it. I must press how important this is. Having said that, do you consent young one?"

Her eyes were peering into mine almost like she was piercing me to my very soul. I felt the gravity and importance from her words, but there was no danger from her, so I nodded.

"Good. Close your eyes and open your mind."

I did as asked. . . .A series of vertigo-inducing images suddenly flashed through my mind. I found myself riding along the Beor Mountain range, traveling eastward many leagues. I did my best to remember the route as craggy mountains and hills flashed past. I was heading south now, still following the mountains. Then everything wheeled abruptly, and I entered a narrow, winding valley. It snaked through the mountains to the base of a frothy waterfall that pounded into a deep lake.

The images stopped and I was in Angela's shop again. "You will have far to go when the time comes young one. But do not let it stand in your way. When you arrive at the lake Kóstha-mérna at the end of the Beartooth River, take a rock, bang on the cliff next to the waterfall, and cry, Aí Varden abr du Shur'tugals gata vanta. They will admit you one way or another. You will be challenged though and must be careful, but do not falter no matter how perilous it seems."

She laid a hand on my shoulder, "I will shield your mind as best I can from the shade but in case it is not enough I will also suppress the memory. It will come to you when the time is near that you need it most. For now though, slytha."

I felt the power come from her as my eyes grew heavy and I toppled forward. Her crimson cloak being the last thing I saw as she caught me in her arms.

I bolted up without warning, startling both Midnight and Saphira. I was thankful to not feel sick from the dream like I usually did afterwards but I suppose this came from a suppressed memory, not a vision. I told them what happened, letting them see and feel what I did in the memory.

Saphira then woke Eragon and I repeated the process once again, Eragon gave me a big smile and he told Murtagh when he had woken.

While they were talking I realized how freezing it was even with the sun up and started to cook breakfast. The sand had a pink hue in the morning light, and the sky was hazy, concealing the horizon.

Although Murtagh's mood had slightly improved with the new information, it was still mostly sour and I noticed Eragon's starting to deteriorate now that the excitement was wearing off.

During breakfast, he asked, "Do you think it'll be long before we leave the desert?"

Murtagh glowered. "We're only crossing a small section of it, so I can't imagine that it'll take us more than two or three days."

"But look how far we've already come."

"All right, maybe it won't! All I care about right now is getting out of the Hadarac as quickly as possible. What we're doing is hard enough without having to pick sand from our eyes every few minutes."

We finished eating, then Eragon went over to Arya. She lay as one dead--a corpse except for her even, and now strong breathing. "Where lies your injury now?" whispered Eragon, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "How can you sleep like this and yet live?"

I walked over and gave him a reassuring pat to his shoulder, before walking back to Stardust and finishing saddling her while Eragon prepared Arya for travel; then he saddled and mounted Snowfire.

As we left the camp, a line of dark smudges became visible on the horizon, indistinct in the hazy air. Murtagh thought they were distant hills. Eragon and I were not convinced, but we could make out no details. Eragon and Saphira talked about Arya for hours, worried that she had not woken even though she had been healed by the potion completely by this time. I figured she was just regaining strength at this point but it did worry me that she had not awoken to eat and drink after such a long time.

At midday we stopped for a brief rest. When we resumed our journey, Eragon and I noticed that the haze had thinned since morning, and the distant smudges had gained definition.

No longer were they indistinct purple-blue lumps, but rather broad, forest-covered mounds with clear outlines. The air above them was pale white, bleached of its usual hue--all color seemed to have been leached out of a horizontal band of sky that lay on top of the hills and extended to the horizon's edges.

I don't know about Eragon but I quickly realized that what we had taken to be hills were actually the bases of gigantic mountains, scores of miles wide. Except for the dense forest along their lower regions, the mountains were entirely covered with snow and ice. It was this that had made the sky appear white at first.

I noticed Eragon craned back his neck, probably searching for the peaks, but they were not visible. The mountains stretched up into the sky until they faded from sight. Narrow, jagged valleys with ridges that nearly touched split the mountains like deep gorges. It was like a ragged, toothy wall linking Alagaësia with the heavens.

There seemed to be no end to them and it was definitely awe striking. Stories that mentioned the Beor Mountains always noted their size, but Eragon and I both had discounted such reports as fanciful embellishments. Now, however, we were forced to acknowledge their authenticity.

Sensing our wonder and surprise, Saphira and Midnight followed our gazes with their own. Within a few seconds they recognized the mountains for what they were. "I feel like a hatchling again. Compared to them, even I feel small!" Saphira said in awe.

"We must be near the edge of the desert," said Eragon. "It's only taken two days and we can already see the far side and beyond!"

Saphira and Midnight spiraled above the dunes. "Yes, but considering the size of those peaks, they could still be fifty leagues from here. It's hard to gauge distances against something so immense. Wouldn't they be a perfect hiding place for the elves or the Varden?"

"You could hide more than the elves and Varden," he stated. "Entire nations could exist in secret there, hidden from the Empire. Imagine living with those behemoths looming over you!"

"Indeed you could Eragon." Midnight commented to him. I just smiled at all three of them and tried to remember as much of the details from here as I could.

Eragon guided Snowfire to Murtagh and pointed, grinning.

"What?" grunted Murtagh, scanning the land.

"Look closely," urged Eragon.

Murtagh peered closely at the horizon. He shrugged. "What, I don't--" The words died in his mouth and gave way to slack-jawed wonder, which caused a grin to appear on my own face. Murtagh shook his head, muttering, "That's impossible!" He squinted so hard that the corners of his eyes crinkled. He shook his head again. "I knew the Beor Mountains were large, but not that monstrous size!"

"Let's hope the animals that live there aren't in proportion to the mountains," said Eragon lightly.

Murtagh smiled. "It will be good to find some shade and spend a few weeks in leisure. I've had enough of this forced march."

"I'm tired too," admitted Eragon and I nodded in agreement, "but I don't want to stop until Arya awakens if possible."

"I don't see how continuing to travel will help her," said Murtagh gravely. "A bed will do her more good than hanging underneath Saphira and Midnight all day."

Eragon shrugged. "Maybe. . . When we reach the mountains, I could take her to Surda--it's not that far. There must be a healer there who can help her; other than giving her that potion, there's not much we can do with the limited medical supplies."

Murtagh shaded his eyes with his hand and stared at the mountains. "We can talk about it later. For now our goal is to reach the Beors. There, at least, the Ra'zac will have trouble finding us, and we will be safe from the Empire."

Unease welled up within me at that sentence. I had a bad feeling it wouldn't be the Empire or the Ra'zac causing trouble for us before long.

Midnight seemed to sense my unease and nodded in silent agreement, we would both keep a sharp eye out for unknown trouble.

As the day wore on, the Beor Mountains seemed to get no closer, though the landscape changed dramatically. The sand slowly transformed from loose grains of reddish hue to hard-packed, dusky-cream dirt. In place of dunes were ragged patches of plants and deep furrows in the ground where flooding had occurred. A cool breeze wafted through the air, bringing welcome refreshment. The horses sensed the change of climate and hurried forward eagerly.

When evening subdued the sun, the mountains'  foothills were a mere league away. Herds of gazelles bounded through lush fields of waving grass. Eragon and I caught Saphira and Midnight eyeing them hungrily. We camped by a stream, relieved to be out of the punishing Hadarac Desert.

Fatigued and haggard, but with triumphant smiles, we sat around the fire, congratulating each other. Saphira crowed jubilantly, which startled the horses. Eragon was staring at the flames. I could tell he was proud that we had covered roughly sixty leagues in five days. It was an impressive feat, even for a rider able to change mounts regularly.

It was weird being out of the Empire and I'm sure Eragon at least felt it in a similar way. I missed those from home and hope they were left alone from our actions, but a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach told me that, that wasn't the case; wishful thinking or not.

I looked over to Eragon and saw him observing Arya, who was stretched out by Saphira. The fire's orange light gave her face a warm cast. Smooth shadows flickered under her cheekbones. It seemed that as he stared, an idea was slowly coming to him. Without speaking of his intentions to us, he knelt by Arya and placed his palm on her brow. It seemed he was going to try and contact her, the same way we talk to the dragons.

After Eragon had been kneeling there for five minutes, Murtagh and Midnight seemed to finally take noticed. Saphira had already been watching him alongside me.

Murtagh gave me a questioning look, so I returned it with a shrug before moving closer to the fire and started to write in the mixture of dirt and ash.

' He may be trying to contact Arya. But I'm really not certain. '

Murtagh nodded, "That makes sense. Though we'll keep an eye on him in case we need to pull him away."

I shook my head no. ' If we were to pull him away there is no telling if it would hurt him or not. We may not like it, but we will just have to wait for him to speak to us. '

Murtagh seemed grimmed by the news but nodded and did not argue.

After another ten minutes passed, Eragon took a shuddering breath and forced his eyes open. Murtagh and Saphira stood on either side of him, watching with concern, while Midnight and I stayed by the fire. We all were concerned but I could tell we would just have to wait one way or another.

"Are you all right?" asked Murtagh. "You've been kneeling here for almost fifteen minutes."

"I have?" asked Eragon, blinking. I rolled my eyes, of course he wouldn't think about how much time it might take his little plan to work. Then again, neither was I sure about the length of time it would require.

"Yes, and grimacing like a pained gargoyle." Commented Saphira dryly. Midnight just gave an amused purr.

Eragon stood, wincing as his more than likely cramped knees stretched. "I talked with Arya!"

Murtagh frowned slightly, "And... What did she say?"

Eragon sighed, "It could still be three to four days before she has the strength to wake herself completely from her slumber and she's worried that if it takes longer, then she may not have been given enough of the potion we used as an antidote. Though we seem to be on the right track to the Varden, she reckons it's farther from here than it was from Gil'ead to get here. Though we are at least on the right track." Eragon gave a strained smile to try and lift the spirits of the situation.

Murtagh's mood ended up taking a turn for the worse in my opinion.

"And we're supposed to cover that in three or four days?" demanded Murtagh angrily, causing me to flinch deeper into Midnight's side. "It took us five long days to get here! What do you want to do, kill the horses? They're exhausted as it is."

"But if we do nothing, she might still be in danger of dying! If it's too much for the horses, Saphira can fly ahead with Arya and me; at least we would get to the Varden in time. You could catch up with us in a few days."

Murtagh grunted and crossed his arms. "Of course. Murtagh the pack animal. Murtagh the horse leader. I should have remembered that's all I'm good for nowadays. Oh, and let's not forget, every soldier in the Empire is searching for me now because you couldn't defend yourself, and I had to go and save you. Yes, I suppose I'll just follow your instructions and bring up the horses in the rear like a good servant."

Eragon actually seemed bewildered by the sudden venom in Murtagh's voice. I was annoyed that they both seemed to forget that I exist and that Eragon seemed to forget that Murtagh didn't want to go to the Varden. Though there's no reason for them to get into a shouting match over it.

"What's wrong with you? I'm grateful for what you did. There's no reason to be angry with me! I didn't ask you to accompany me or to rescue me from Gil'ead. You chose that. I haven't forced you to do anything."

"Oh, not openly, no. What else could I do but help you with the Ra'zac? And then later, at Gil'ead, how could I have left with a clear conscience? The problem with you," said Murtagh, poking Eragon in the chest while I was starting to stand so I could get between them, "is that you're so totally helpless you force everyone to take care of you!"

I could tell now that the words stung Eragon's pride because he believed there to be truth in them. "Don't touch me," he growled.

Murtagh laughed, a harsh note in his voice. "Or what, you'll punch me? You couldn't hit a brick wall." He went to shove Eragon again before I could effectively get between them, but Eragon grabbed his arm and struck him in the stomach.

"I said, don't touch me!"

Murtagh doubled over, swearing. Then he yelled and launched himself at Eragon, if Midnight had not hooked one of her claws around my stomach to yank me out of the way. I would have fallen within the same tangle of arms and legs the other two were in, trying to pound on each other. Eragon kicked at Murtagh's right hip, missed and grazed the fire. Sparks and burning embers scattered through the air and I would have been burnt if Midnight hadn't raised her wing to block the sparks and embers.

They scrambled across the ground, trying to get leverage. Eragon managed to get his feet under Murtagh's chest and kicked mightily. Murtagh flew upside down over Eragon's head, landing flat on his back with a solid thump.

Murtagh's breath whooshed out. He rolled stiffly to his feet, then wheeled to face Eragon, panting heavily. "Saphira please stop them!"

Murtagh and Eragon charged each other once more. Saphira's tail slapped between them, accompanied by a deafening roar, causing me to cover my ears for a few seconds. Eragon ignored her and tried to jump over her tail, but a taloned paw caught him in midair and flung him back to the ground.

"Enough!" Shouted Saphira.

Eragon futilely tried to push Saphira's muscled leg off his chest and eventually saw that Murtagh was likewise pinned. Saphira roared again, snapping her jaws. She swung her head over Eragon and glared at him. "You of all people should know better! Fighting like starving dogs over a scrap of meat. You nearly got Lyalle burned in the process. What would Brom say?"

Eragon's cheeks turned scarlet and he averted his gaze from Saphira's. Murtagh was the only one with the excuse to not know what Brom would have said.

Saphira held them on the ground, letting them simmer, then said to Eragon pointedly, "Now, if you don't want to spend the night under my foot, you will politely ask Murtagh what is troubling him." She snaked her head over to Murtagh and stared down at him with an impassive blue eye. "And tell him that I won't stand for insults from either of you."

"Won't you let us up?" Complained Eragon.

"No."

Eragon reluctantly turned his head toward Murtagh, probably tasting blood in his mouth with that split lip of his. Murtagh avoided Eragon's eyes and looked up at the sky. "Well, is she going to get off us?" I really thought about suggesting to Saphira to stay on them a little longer even after they talked it out from how reckless and hot headed they were about it all.

"No, not unless we talk. . . . She wants me to ask you what's really the problem," said Eragon, probably embarrassed by his actions at this point. Saphira growled an affirmative and continued to stare at Murtagh. It was impossible for him to escape her piercing glare. Finally he shrugged, muttering something under his breath. Saphira's claws seemed to tightened on his chest, and her tail whistled through the air. Murtagh shot her an angry glance, then grudgingly said louder, "I told you before: I don't want to go to the Varden."

I noticed Eragon frown. "Don't want to. . . or can't?"

Murtagh tried to shove Saphira's leg off him, then gave up with a curse. Yeesh, Aunt Marian would have washed his mouth out if she caught him. "Don't want to! They'll expect things from me that I can't deliver."

"Did you steal something from them?"

"I wish it were that simple."

Eragon rolled his eyes, probably exasperated with the crypticness. "Well, what is it, then? Did you kill someone important or bed the wrong woman?"

"No, I was born," said Murtagh cryptically, well cryptic for Eragon at least. He pushed at Saphira again. This time she released them both. They got to their feet under her watchful eye and brushed dirt from their backs. Still listening to what they were saying I walked over to Arya to check on her and Midnight seemed to be looking or maybe listening to something in the distance from the direction we came from.

"You're avoiding the question," Eragon said, dabbing his split lip; I gave him a look that clearly said that statement wouldn't help the situation.

"So what?" spat Murtagh as he stomped to the edge of the camp.


After a minute he sighed. "It doesn't matter why I'm in this predicament, but I can tell you that the Varden wouldn't welcome me even if I came bearing the King's head. Oh, they might greet me nicely enough and let me into their councils, but trust me? Never. And if I were to arrive under less fortuitous circumstances, like the present ones, they'd likely clap me in irons.”

“Won't you tell me what this is about?” asked Eragon. “I've done things I'm not proud of, too, so it's not as if I'm going to pass judgement.”

“Eragon. If Murtagh isn't ready to tell us, then don't press him so hard.”

He did not seem pleased entirely though I could understand the need for answers in this situation.

Murtagh shook his head slowly, eyes glistening. “It isn't like that. I haven't done anything to deserve this treatment, though it would have been easier to atone for if I had. No… my only wrongdoing is existing in the first place.” He stopped and took a shaky breath.

“You see, my father--”

A sharp hiss from both Saphira and Midnight cut him off abruptly, “Look!” Came from the both of them.

We followed their gazes westward. Murtagh's face paled. “Demons above and below!”

A league or so away, parallel to the mountain range, was a column of figures marching east. The line of troops, hundreds strong, stretched for nearly a mile. Dust billowed from their heels. Their weapons blunted in the dying light. A standard-bearer rode before them in a black chariot, holding aloft a crimson banner.

“It's the Empire,” said Eragon tiredly. “They've found us. . . somehow.” Saphira poked her head over his shoulder and gazed at the column while Midnight did the same by me.

Looking at Midnight's head, “I suppose we were right about not being safe yet.” She may not have the facial expressions of a human but I could tell her nod was grim.

“Yes. . . but those are Urgals, not men,” said Murtagh.

“How can you tell?”

Murtagh pointed at the standard. “That flag bears the personal symbol of an Urgal chieftain. He's a ruthless brute, given to violent fits and insanity.”

“You've met him?”

Murtagh's eyes tightened. “Once, briefly. I still have scars from that encounter. These Urgals might not have been sent here for us, but I'm sure we've been seen by now and that they will follow us. Their chieftain isn't the sort to let a Dragon escape his grasp let alone two, especially if he's heard about Gil'ead.”

Eragon hurried to the fire and covered it with dirt. “We have to flee! You don't want to go to the Varden, but Lyalle and I have to take Arya to them. Here's a compromise: come with us until we reach the lake Kóstha-mérna, then go your own way.” Murtagh hesitated. Eragon added quickly, “If you leave now, in sight of the column, Urgals will follow you. And then where will you be, facing them alone?”

“Very well,” said Murtagh, tossing his saddlebags over Tornac's flanks, “but when we near the Varden, I will leave.”

I could feel Eragon wanting to question Murtagh more but we really didn't have time with the Urgals nearby like they were. I already had Stardust and Snowfire saddled and our things packed while they had talked.

Saphira and Midnight fanned their wings, took off in a rush, and circled above us. They kept guard over us as we left camp.

“What direction shall we fly?” Saphira asked.

“East, along the Beors.” I told her, before Eragon could.

Stilling their wings, they rose on an updraft and teetered on the pillar of warm air, hovering in the sky over the horses.

“I wonder why the Urgals are here? Maybe they were sent to attack the Varden?” Saphira questioned.

"Then we should try to warn them,” Eragon said, guiding Snowfire past half-visible obstacles. As the night deepend, the Urgals faded into the gloom behind us. I agreed with Eragon but I had a strong sense that we may nearly be too late.



When morning came, Eragon's cheek seemed raw from chafing against Snowfire's neck, and he appeared sore from his fight with Murtagh. Seeing as they both got themselves into that fight I don't feel much empathy for either of them. We had alternated sleeping in our saddles throughout the night. It had allowed us to outdistance the Urgal troops for now, fore none of us knew if the lead could be retained. The horses were exhausted to the point of stopping, yet they still maintained a relentless pace. Whether it would be enough to escape depended on how rested the monsters were. . . and if our horses survived.

The Beor Mountains cast great shadows over the land, stealing the sun's warmth. To the north was the Hadarac Desert, a thin white band as bright as noonday snow.

Midnight and Saphira landed beside us.

“Saphira and I must hunt. Or our hunger could make us useless if those Urgals catch up. There are bounding deer close to the mountain we should be able to catch.”

“Alright but hurry back please. I feel as if Urgals won't be the only trouble we have today.”

“Do not worry, we will both be swift.”

I smiled and nodded to both of them while Eragon transferred Arya from Saphira's belly and into Snowfire's saddle.

Midnight and Saphira soared away, disappearing in the direction of the mountains.

Looking towards Eragon “What did Saphira say to you?”

He smiled “She said days have past since she last hunted. Hunger claws her belly. If I start now, I might be able to catch enough of those bounding deer for a few mouthfuls.”

We both smiled at Saphira's exaggeration before Eragon started to run beside the horses, close enough to Snowfire to keep Arya from falling. None of us intruded on the silence. Yesterday's fight no longer seemed as important because of the Urgals, but I'm sure the bruises remained and not just the physical ones.

Saphira and Midnight both made their kills within the hour and notified Eragon and I of their success. Eragon was pleased that they would soon return and so was I. Their absences made us both uneasy.

We stopped at a pond to let the horses drink. Eragon idly plucked a stalk of grass, twirling it while he stared at the elf. I stood next to her, something felt like I would be needed at her side.

Eragon and I were both startled by the steely rasp of a sword being unsheathed. Eragon grasped Zar'roc while I grasped a hold of Islingr, Eragon spun around in search of an enemy while I looked to Murtagh to see what might have caused him to draw his weapon.

Murtagh had his long sword held ready. He pointed at a hill ahead of us, where a tall, brown-cloaked man sat on a sorrel horse, mace in hand. Behind him was a group of twenty horsemen. No one moved.

“Could they be Varden?” asked Murtagh, I shook my head no while Eragon gave his own answer.

Eragon surreptitiously strung his bow. “According to Arya, they're still scores of leagues away. This might be one of their patrols or raiding groups.” I shook my head no again.

“Assuming they're not bandits.” Murtagh swung onto Tornac and readied his own bow.

“Should we try to outrun them?” asked Eragon, helping me drape a blanket over Arya. The horsemen must have seen her, but we hoped to conceal the fact that she was an elf.

“It wouldn't do any good,” said Murtagh, shaking his head. “Tornac and Snowfire and Stardust are fine war-horses, but they're tired, and they aren't sprinters. Stardust might be, but she's too tired. Look at the horses those men have; they're meant for running. They would catch us before we had gone a half-mile. Besides, they may have something important to say. You'd better tell Saphira and Midnight to hurry back.”

I nodded and could tell Eragon was already doing so to Saphira.

I contacted Midnight and explained the situation to her, “Don't show yourself unless it's neccessary. It could still be dangerous for anyone to know about you and Saphira, even all the way out here.”

I felt her acknowledgement as she and Saphira took off and raced towards us, skimming close to the ground.

The band of men watched us from the hill.

Eragon nervously gripped Zar'roc and I wasn't doing much different on Islingr. The wire wrapped hilt was secure under both our gloves. He said in a low voice, “If they threaten us, I can frighten them away with magic. If that doesn't work, there's Saphira and Midnight. I wonder how they'd react to two Riders? So many stories have been told about their powers. . . . It might be enough to avoid a fight.”

“Don't count on it,” said Murtagh flatly. “If there's a fight, we'll just have to kill enough of them to convince them we're not worth the effort.” His face was controlled and unemotional.

The man on the sorrel horse signaled with his mace, sending the horsemen cantering toward us. The men shook javelins over their heads, whooping loudly as they neared. Battered sheaths hung from their sides. Their weapons were rusty and stained. Four of them trained arrows on us.

Their leader swirled the mace in the air, and his men responded with yells as they wildly encircled us. Eragon's lips twitched. Eragon seemed to be just barely containing his growing apprehension and I shifted closer to Arya and Snowfire, silently willing Midnight and Saphira to hurry.

The moment we were thoroughly surrounded, the leader reined in his horse, then crossed his arms and examined us critically. He raised his eyebrows. “Well, these are better than the usual dregs we find! At least we got healthy ones this time. And we didn't even have to shoot them. Grieg will be pleased.” The men chuckled while I grimaced.

At his words, a sinking sensation must have filled Eragon's gut. He must of had the same suspicion as I before I heard him call for Saphira.

“Now as for you three,” said the leader, speaking to us three, “if you would be so good as to drop your weapons, you'll avoid being turned into living quivers by my men.” The archers grinned suggestively; the men laughed again.

Murtagh's only movement was to shift his sword. “Who are you and what do you want? We are free men traveling through this land. You have no right to stop us.”

“Oh, I have every right,” said the man contemptuously. “And as for my name, slaves do not address their masters in that manner, unless they want to be beaten.”

My blood felt like it froze at that sentence and the images of those being sold in Dras-Leona appeared at the forefront of my mind. Eragon seemed to be enraged and disgusted by their presence now.

The lines deepened on the leader's face. “Throw down your swords and surrender!” The slavers tensed, staring at us with cold eyes as none of us lowered our weapons. My palm tingled and I stepped between Arya and a slaver that had started approaching her.

“Eragon, unless we fight them; they'll find out Arya isn't human. It's obvious the Empire would want her and they'll think they'd get paid a fortune for turning her over.”

“I know. We just need to wait for Saphira and Midnight.”

I gave a discreet nod to him. Luckily we didn't have long to wait as they were now above us and Eragon signalled them to attack now.

Both dragons banked sharply far overhead. At the signal they folded their wings and plummeted downward. Eragon caught Murtagh's attention with a sharp signal. Murtagh took the cue. He smashed his elbow into a slaver's face, knocking the man out of his saddle, and jabbed his heels into Tornac; while I disarmed the one in front of me.

With a toss of his mane, the war-horse jumped forward, twirled around, and reared. Murtagh brandished his sword as Tornac plunged back down, driving his forehooves into the back of the dismounted slaver. The man screamed and I flinched slightly but continued to maintain focus on making sure no one approached Arya.

Before the slavers could gather their senses, Eragon scrambled out of the commotion and raised his hands, invoking words in the ancient language. A globule of indigo fire struck the ground in the midst of the fray, bursting into a fountain of molten drops that dissipated like sun-warmed dew. A second later, Saphira and Midnight both dropped from the sky and landed next to Eragon and I. They both parted their jaws, displaying their massive fangs and bellowed. “Behold!” cried Eragon over the furor, “We are dragon Riders!” He raised Zar'roc over his head and I raised Islingr, both blades dazzling in the sunlight, then Eragon pointed Zar'roc at the slavers. “Flee if you wish to live!”

The men shouted incoherently and scrambled over each other in their haste to escape. In the confusion, Torkenbrand (the slave leader apparently) was struck in the temple with a javelin. He tumbled to the ground, stunned. The men ignored their fallen leader and raced away in a ragged mass, casting fearful looks at Saphira and Midnight.

Torkenbrand struggled to his knees. Blood ran from his temple, branching across his cheek with crimson tendrils. Murtagh dismounted and strode over to him, sword in hand. Torkenbrand weakly raised his arm as if to ward off a blow. Murtagh gazed at him coldly, then swung his blade at Torkenbrand's neck. I quickly looked away while Eragon shouted “No!”, but it was too late.

I could hear Torkenbrand's decapitated trunk crumple to the ground in a puff of dirt. His head landed with a hard thump. Eragon rushed to Murtagh, his jaw working furiously. “Is your brain rotten?” he yelled, enraged. I edged closer to Midnight. “Why did you kill him?”

Murtagh wiped his sword on the back of Torkenbrand's jerkin. The steel left a dark stain.

“I don't see why you're so upset--”

“Upset!” exploded Eragon while Midnight gave a low growl at him causing him to at least lower his voice a little. “I'm well past that! Did it even occur to you that we could just leave him here and continue on our way? No! Instead you turn into an executioner and chop off his head. He was defenseless!”

Murtagh seemed perplexed by Eragon's wrath. “Well, we couldn't keep him around-- he was dangerous. The others ran off… without a horse he wouldn't have made it far. I didn't want the Urgals to find him and learn about Arya. So I thought it would--”

“But to kill him?” interrupted Eragon. Saphira sniffed Torkenbrand's head curiously. She opened her mouth slightly, as if to snap it up, then appeared to decide better of it and prowled to Eragon's side.

I followed her keeping my eyes away from Torkenbrand's head and body and tugged on Eragon's sleeve until he looked at me, causing me to tense slightly at the steely look in his eyes.

“Eragon I don't like it, but Murtagh's right. The Urgals would have found him and even if they didn't find him and torture him for information before killing him in a much more painful way than what Murtagh just did. He wouldn't have made it far and would have either starved to death or died from overexposure to the heat and dehydration. Murtagh killing him like that was much more merciful. And you may not like it but the slavers were always going to be defenseless compared to us. We both can do magic, all three of us are extremely good with swords and we had two dragons heading towards us in our aid. Not once would they have come out on top.”

Eragon looked more defeated by my side of the argument and at least most of his anger seemed to drain out of him.

“I'm only trying to stay alive,” stated Murtagh, who looked slightly grateful for me trying to get through to Eragon for him; but also like he still needed to make his point. “No stranger's life is more important than my own.”

“But you can't indulge in wanton violence. Where is your empathy?” Eragon asked in a more defeated tone, pointing at the head.

“Empathy? Empathy? What empathy can I afford my enemies? Shall I dither about whether to defend myself because it will cause someone pain? If that had been the case, I would have died years ago! You must be willing to protect yourself and what you cherish, no matter what the cost.”

Eragon slammed Zar'roc back into its sheath, shaking his head savagely, his anger seeming to rekindle a bit more. “You can justify any atrocity with that reasoning.”

“Do you think I enjoy this?” Murtagh shouted. “My life has been threatened from the day I was born! All of my waking hours have been spent avoiding danger in one form or another. And sleep never comes easily because I always worry if I'll live to see the dawn. If there was ever a time I felt secure, it must have been in my mother's womb, though I wasn't safe even there! You don't understand--if you lived with this fear, you would have learned the same lesson I did: Do not take chances.” He gestured at Torkenbrand's body. “He was a risk that I removed. I refuse to repent, and I won't plague myself over what is done and past.”

Eragon shoved his face into Murtagh's. “It was still the wrong thing to do.” While he lashed Arya to Saphira I gave Murtagh an apologetic look and a thumbs up, then Eragon climbed onto Snowfire while I mounted Stardust. “Let's go.” Murtagh guided Tornac around Torkenbrand's prone form in the bloodstained dust.



We rode at a rate that Eragon and I both would have thought impossible a week ago; leagues melted away before us as if wings were attached to our feet. We turned south, between two outstretched arms of the Beor Mountains. The arms were shaped like pincers about to close, the tips a day's travel apart. Yet the distance seemed less because of the mountains’ size. It was as if we were in a valley made for giants.

When we stopped for the day, we all ate dinner in silence, both Eragon and Murtagh refusing to look up from their food. Afterward, Eragon said tersely, “I'll take first watch.” Murtagh nodded and lay on his blankets with his back to Eragon and I.

I gave Eragon a nod as well before laying down next to Midnight. “Goodnight Midnight. I love you.”

“Goodnight to you as well. I love you too, now sleep.”

I felt her gently nuzzle my head as I fell asleep.

Chapter 16: Flight through the Valley

Notes:

Conversations with just " " are people speaking out loud. Conversations with ' ' and italicized are written conversations. Conversations that are both bold and italicized are mental conversations. With this out of the way I hope you enjoy the story.

Image is not mine and was found on Pinterest.

 

Eragon was still trying to avoid Murtagh the next day.

Going so far as to leave Arya strapped to Saphira and fly off with her.

I understand he needs space to process what happened yesterday. But he could have at least switched Arya over to Midnight or Snowfire, instead of making Saphira carry them both.

If Saphira hadn't said she was fine I would have argued more with him leaving like that.

Midnight stayed in her smaller form curled around my shoulders as we rode on.

 

Eragon and Saphira suddenly landed a short distance ahead as we rode towards them.

I sighed when Murtaghs question came out more curt then needed, "What now?"

"The Urgals are overtaking us," Eragon said as he pointed back towards the column's camp.

 

"What, how much farther from us are they?"

"Too close Lyalle."

I gave a grim nod as Murtagh began speaking again.

"How far do we still have to go?" Asked Murtagh, putting his hands against the sky and what I can assume measuring the hours until sunset.

"Normally?. . . I would guess another five days. At the speed we've been traveling, only three. But unless we get there tomorrow, the Urgals will probably catch us."

Midnight purred, "lf they do manage to catch us. You will have two dragons to aid you."

"Hopefully they won't though Midnight. I'm not sure if it's a good idea the Varden immediately knows about you either. Otherwise why didn't Brom tell them about you as well as Saphira when he sent that letter. I know he said he didn't want to risk an enemy finding out about a second dragon and rider… but what if he was worried about a traitor amongst the varden? Even Miss Thorn said something about not trusting the twins."

Eragon frowned, "Lyalle has a point. Unless we need you to do otherwise, stay small and with Lyalle. Another problem though is, the only way we can get to the Varden in time is if we don't stop for anything, least of all sleep. That's our only chance."

 

Murtagh laughed bitterly. "How can you expect to do that? We've already gone days without adequate sleep. Unless Riders are made of different stuff than us mortals, you and Lyalle are as tired as I am. We've covered a staggering distance, and the horses, in case you haven't noticed, are ready to drop. Another day of this might kill us all."

Eragon shrugged. "So be it. We don't have a choice."

Murtagh gazed at the mountains. "I could leave and let you fly ahead with Saphira and Midnight. . . . That would force the Urgals to divide their troops and would give you a better chance of reaching the Varden."

"It would be suicide," said Eragon, crossing his arms and I completely agreed with him. "Somehow those Urgals are faster on foot than we are on Horseback. They would run you down like a deer. The only way to evade them is to find sanctuary with the Varden."

 

Unfortunately I couldn't disagree with Eragon, but I suddenly had a feeling the Varden wouldn't quite be the sanctuary we were hoping for.

 

"I'll escape later," Murtagh abruptly said. "When we get to the Varden, I can disappear down a side valley and find my way to Surda, where I can hide without attracting too much attention."

"So you're staying?"

"Sleep or no sleep, I'll see you to the Varden," Murtagh promised, I just hope he doesn't regret the promise. I have a bad feeling of what's to come.

With as much newfound determination as we could muster, we struggled to distance ourselves from the Urgals, yet our pursuers continued to creep nearer.

At nightfall the Urgals were a third closer than they had been this morning.

Fatigue was eroding our strength, we slept in turns on the horses, while whoever was awake led the animals in the right direction.

Eragon relied heavily on the memories Arya showed him, as well as the ones I showed him, from Miss Thorn. A few times I had to correct our direction before Eragon led us off track from following Arya's directions. Her mind had a more alien nature, causing the occasional mistake. Miss Thorn seemed to have a similar way of thinking but had had the chance to be more careful and precise with her directions. Otherwise I'd get as confused as Eragon by them.

We gradually angled toward the foothills of the eastern arm of mountains, looking for the valley that would lead us to the Varden. The midnight hour arrived and passed without any real sign of it.

The closer we got to the Varden though, the more I felt on edge by what might happen to Murtagh and the possible threat  that whoever these twins are, posed to us and the Varden.

 

When the sun finally came up, we were relieved to see that the Urgals were far behind. 

"This is the last day," Eragon said, yawning widely. "If we're not reasonably close to the Varden by noon, I'm going to fly ahead with Arya. You'll be free to go wherever you want then."

"That might not be necessary; we could still get there in time," Murtagh replied as he rubbed the pommel of his sword.

Eragon shrugged. "We could."

Eragon went to check on Arya before we set off, hoping to keep the distance and make it to the Varden.

 

Late in the morning, after we circumnavigated an especially broad mountain, Eragon pointed out a narrow valley tucked against the far side of the mountain range.

It was the Beartooth River, which from what I remember from Miss Thorns memories, flows out of the valley and loops carelessly across the land.

I noticed Eragon smile in relief and couldn't help but mimic the action considering that was where we needed to go.

Eragon looked back behind us and the alarm on his face had Midnight and I doing the same. The distance between us and the Urgals had shrunk again and this time to little more than a league away.

 

Eragon pointed out the valley to Murtagh next. "If we can slip in there without being seen, it might confuse them."

Murtagh looked skeptical and unfortunately so was I. "It's worth a try. But they've followed us easily enough so far."

I couldn't disagree with that. It's like we flew over the river with the horses for nothing with this new trouble.

 

As we approached the valley, we passed under the knotted branches of the Beor Mountains' forest. The trees were tall, with creviced bark that was almost black, dull needles of the same color, and knobby roots that rose from the soil like bare knees. Cones littered the ground, each the size of a horse's head. Sable squirrels chattered from the treetops, and eyes gleamed from holes in the trunks. Green beards of tangled wolfsbane hung from the gnarled branches

 

I caught Midnight eyeing the squirrels like she would try to hunt a few if we weren't pressed for time.

 

The forest felt old but also like it wasn't happy with us intruding upon it. There was something hostile in the air to add to the already hostile atmosphere.

 Looking to Eragon it looked like he was getting the same feeling from this place.

 

"They are very old," Saphira said while touching a tree trunk with her nose.

"Yes," replied Eragon, "But not friendly."

Midnight hummed in agreement with Eragon and I just nodded at him.

 

The forest grew denser the farther in we traveled. It was almost like being back in the Spine around Carvahall, except currently less climbing. Which for the horses sake and my own I hope it remains that way.

 

The lack of space forced Saphira to take off with Arya. Without a clear trail to follow, the tough underbrush slowed our progress a little bit.

The Beartooth River wound next to us, filling the air with the sound of gurgling water. A nearby peak obscured the sun, casting us into premature dusk.

 

At the valley's mouth, we could see that although it looked like a slim gash between the peaks, the valley was really as wide as many of the Spine's vales. It was only the enormous size of the ridged and shadowy mountains that made it appear so confined.

Waterfalls dotted its sheer sides. The sky reduced to a thin strip winding overhead, mostly hidden by gray clouds. From the dank ground rose a clinging fog that chilled the air until our breath was visible.

"I bet even my breath would look capable of breathing fire with the way this air makes our breath visible."

I heard Midnight chuckle against my shoulder.

"Perhaps it would, little one. Though it would appear to be a low flame if so."

I smiled at her before looking back ahead of me.

Wild strawberries crawled among a carpet of mosses and ferns, fighting for the meager sunlight. Sprouting on piles of rotting wood were red and yellow toadstools. I really wished we had more time to see what different medicinal herbs could be found here.

All was hushed and quiet, sounds dampened by the heavy air.

Saphira landed by us in a nearby glade, the rush of her wings strangely muted. She took in the view with a swing of her head.

 

"I just passed a flock of birds that were black and green with red markings on their wings. I've never seen birds like that before."

"Everything in these mountains seem unusual," replied Eragon. "Saphira, do you and Lyalle mind if I ride you for a while? I want to keep an eye on the Urgals."

"Of course."

"Go ahead Eragon. Murtagh and I will be fine while you're with Saphira."

 

Eragon nodded to us and then turned to Murtagh. "The Varden are hidden at the end of this valley. If we hurry, we might get there before nightfall."

Murtagh grunted, hands on his hips. "How am I going to get out of here? I don't see any valleys joining this one, and the Urgals are going to hem us in pretty soon. I need an escape route." I nodded to Eragon in agreement with Murtagh, it wouldn't be fair to make him come farther than he already agreed to but I couldn't remember any other connecting valleys from the memories I was shown.

 

"Don't worry about it," Eragon said impatiently. "This is a long valley; there's sure to be an exit further in." I had my doubts about that.

Eragon released Arya from Saphira and lifted her onto Snowfire. "Watch Arya- I'm going to fly with Saphira. We'll meet you up ahead." He scrambled onto Saphira's back and strapped himself onto her saddle.

I heard Midnight tell Saphira to talk to Eragon though she didn't elaborate on what and I just assumed it would be about Murtagh.

"Be careful," Murtagh warned, I had a feeling Eragon wasn't going to do that and just sighed.

Murtaghs brow furrowed in thought, then he clucked to the horses and hurried back into the forest with Midnight and I bringing up the rear.

An hour or two at most of riding, we had to stop in a small field when I saw tracks and rode closer to Murtaghs side to point them out to him. The tracks turned out to be very, very large wolf tracks which was disconcerting.

A few moments later there was a jolt to the ground as Saphira landed and looking up I saw Eragon not moving to get off of her.

Murtagh and I hurried over but before I could ask what happened, Murtagh beat me to it.

"What's wrong?" He sounded angry, worried, and tired all at the same time, and I couldn't blame him for any of it.

 

". . . I made a mistake," Eragon finally responded and meant truthfully. "The Urgals have entered the valley. I tried to confuse them, but I forgot one of the rules of magic, and it cost me a great deal."

 

I frowned more worried, "It was the distance rule wasn't it? Please Eragon you need to be more careful."

"I know Lyalle, I'm sorry."

I nodded to him before going to get him some bread from the saddle bags, still listening to what the two said to each other.

I heard Murtagh and assumed he pointed towards the tracks we found, "We just found some wolf tracks, but the footprints are as wide as both of my hands and an inch deep. There are animals around here that could be dangerous even to the two of you, Saphira, Midnight." Murtagh turned to Saphira, "I know you can't enter the forest, but could you circle above us and the horses? That should keep these beasts away. If not, Midnight will be here with us, but I worry the dense forest may prevent her from growing large enough to fend off an attack if a pack of them come at us. Otherwise there may only be enough left of us to roast in a thimble."

I rolled my eyes but still smiled at the exaggeration… well, hopefully that's all it was.

 

"Humor, Murtagh?" asked Eragon, a quick smile coming to his face. It looked like he was having trouble concentrating.

I turned to Saphira, "Please try not to let him do that again. I think we've figured out by now he forgets to think sometimes."

I heard her chuckle before she dipped her head in acknowledgement. We both then turned back towards the conversation.

 

"Only on the gallows." Murtagh rubbed his eyes. "I can't believe that the same Urgals have been following us the whole time. They would have to be birds to catch up with us."

"Saphira said they're larger than any we've seen," remarked Eragon.

Murtagh cursed, clenching the pommel of his sword, which took me off guard for a moment.

"That explains it! Saphira, if you're right, then those are Kull, elite of the Urgals. I should have guessed that the chieftain had been put in charge of them

 They don't ride because horses can't carry their weight-  not one of them is under eight feet tall- and they can run for days without sleep and still be ready for battle. It can take five men to kill one. Kull never leave their caves except for war, so they must expect a great slaughter if they are out in such force."

"Can we stay ahead of them?"

"Who knows?" said Murtagh, which wasn't very reassuring. "They're strong, determined, and large in numbers. It's possible that we may have to face them. If that happens, I only hope that the Varden have men posted nearby who'll help us. Despite our skill and both Saphira and Midnight, we can't hold off Kull."

 

Eragon swayed and I handed him the bread I got him. "Thank you Lyalle." I nodded and gave him a small smile.

Unfortunately the loaf of bread was old and hard but Eragon still chewed on it gratefully.

Eragon and I caught Murtagh scanning the valley walls, worry, in his eyes. It was obvious he was searching for a way out.

"There'll be one farther in." Eragon said.

"Of course," replied Murtagh with forced optimism, then slapped his thigh. "We must go."

"How is Arya?" asked Eragon.

Murtagh shrugged. "From what we were told that potion would do. She should awaken by the time we make it to the Varden. If we're lucky sooner than that."

 

Eragon nodded and seemed to be gaining strength with each bite he took of the bread. Eragon pushed himself up right in Saphira's saddle, but before further conversation could be had, a horn echoed through the dark forest.

 

Eragon and Saphira took flight while Murtagh and I spurred the horses onward once again.

 

At one point while riding I turned my head back around and could see Saphira dropping rocks upon the Urgals.

"Ingenious my sister is. Correct little one?"

"Yes. But I thought I was currently taller than you?"

We both mentally chuckled to each other,

"Perhaps for now you are. But I will be the taller one again before too much time passes."

"You'll also remain the taller one. Hopefully dropping the rocks slows even the Kull down."

"Indeed lets hope."

 

The rocks being dropped did seem to help us stay a little bit more ahead then what we were beforehand, which was a relief.

The valley darkened as the hours slipped by. Without the sun to provide warmth, the sharp bite of frost crept into the air and the ground mist froze on the trees, coating them white. Night animals are bound to begin creeping from their dens to peer from shadowed hideouts at us trespassing strangers who are on their land.

 

True darkness began to fill the valley, settling over the trees and mountains like an inky cloud. Even Midnight's keen hearing and delicate sense of smell could no longer tell how far or how close the Urgals were to us.

When we got closer to Saphira and Eragon, I could see she had landed to the left of the Beartooth River, and was crouched expectantly, most likely because it had gotten too dark for her to drop the rocks on the Urgals.

It's likely the very waterfall we're searching for, could be heard rumbling in the distance.

 

Murtagh did not slow our pace as we got closer to Eragon and with the Urgals whereabouts unknown, neither did I.

Eragon jumped off Saphira, stumbling a bit as he matched our pace. Behind him Saphira went to the river so she could follow us without being hindered by the trees.

Before Eragon could tell us anything, Murtagh said, "We saw you dropping rocks with Saphira- ambitious. Have the Kull stopped or turned back?"

"They're still behind us, but we're almost to the head of the valley. How's Arya?"

 

"She hasn't woken yet, but fine otherwise." Murtaghs breath came in short bursts. His next words were deceptively calm, like those of a man concealing a terrible passion. Which just gave me the impression that we'd have another fight before too long.

"Is there a valley or gorge ahead that I can leave through?"

I saw Eragon suddenly looked apprehensive and with a sinking feeling I could already tell he forgot to look for one while flying.

"It's dark," he began evasively, dodging a low branch that I had to duck under next. "So I might have missed something, but. . . no."

Murtagh swore explosively and came to an abrupt stop forcing me and Snowfire to do the same from behind him.

"Are you saying that the only place I can go to is the Varden?"

"Yes, but keep running. The Urgals are almost upon us!"

"No!" Said Murtagh angrily and I flinched slightly.

He stabbed a finger at Eragon. "I warned you that I wouldn't go to the Varden, but you went ahead and trapped me between a hammer and an anvil! You're the one with the elf's memories. Why didn't you tell me this was a dead end?"

 

Eragon bristled at the barrage and retorted, "All I knew was where we had to go, not what lay in between. Don't blame me for choosing to come."

Murtagh's breath hissed between his teeth as he furiously spun away. All Eragon and I could see of him was a motionless, bowed figure.

When I glanced towards Eragon he had his hands on his hips and his shoulders looked tensed, though it was hard to say for certain with how dark it was.

"Why have we stopped?" Saphira asked with alarm in her tone.

Eragon seemed to respond something to Saphira before speaking to Murtagh, "What's your quarrel with the Varden? It can't be so terrible that you must keep it hidden even now. Would you rather fight the Kull than reveal it? How many times will we go through this before you trust me?"

There was a long silence, I nudged Midnight softly from my shoulder. There was no telling how either Saphira or Eragon would react to what Murtagh had to say.

"The Urgals!" Saphira reminded urgently.

I didn't hear Eragon's response to her.

"Murtagh," Eragon's tone was earnest, "unless you wish to die, we must go to the Varden. Don't let me walk into their arms without knowing how they will react to you. It's going to be dangerous enough without unnecessary surprises."

Finally Murtagh turned towards us. His breathing was hard and fast, like that of a cornered wolf.

He paused, then said with what could only be called a tortured voice, "You have a right to know. I. . . I am the son of Morzan, first and last of the Forsworn."

 

In that moment I could only hope Eragon and Saphira didn't react too badly and I was prepared to act on Murtaghs behalf if things escalated past words.

 

Saphira crashed through the trees and brush as she barreled from the river to Eragon's side, fangs bared, tail raised threateningly.

"Be ready for anything," she warned. "He may be able to use magic."

"Saphira please calm down. Murtaghs not a threat."

"Lyalle, you knew?"

"Yes I saw it in one of my visions. But if I thought he would be a threat to you and Eragon and Midnight, I would have told you all. If his father decides who he is just because of blood. Then what does that say about mine?"

 

Saphira hesitated for a few moments before settling down a little bit. Still prepared to attack if necessary but not as likely to do it out of impulse now.

 

Eragon heard our conversation and frowned softly before turning back to Murtagh.

"You are his heir?" Eragon asked, he started reaching for Zar'roc before he looked at me and stopped his hands movements.

"I didn't choose this!" cried Murtagh, anguish twisting his face. His yell startling me for a second.

He ripped at his clothes with a desperate air, tearing off his tunic and shirt to bare his torso.

"Look!" he pleaded, turning his back to Eragon. I already knew what was there.

 

Eragon seemed unsure but leaned forward regardless, most likely having to strain his eyes in the darkness. Where he could see against Murtagh's tanned and muscled skin, a knotted white scar that stretched from his right shoulder to his left hip- a testament to what his father had done to him that night.

 

"See that?" demanded Murtagh, a bitterness to his tone. He talked quickly now, as if relieved to have his secret finally revealed.

"I was only three when I got it. During one of his many drunken rages, Morzan threw his sword at me as I ran by. My back was laid open by the very sword you now carry- the only thing I expected to receive as inheritance, until Brom stole it from my father's corpse. I was lucky, I suppose- there was a healer nearby who kept me from dying, though I never learned her name or who she was. You must understand, I don't love the Empire or the king. I have no allegiance to them, nor do I mean you harm!" His pleas were almost frantic.

Eragon finally took his hand away completely from Zar'roc. "Then your father," he said in a faltering voice, "was killed by…"

"Yes, Brom," said Murtagh. He pulled his tunic back on with a detached air about him.

A horn rang out behind us. Eragon called to Murtagh, "Come, run with us."

Murtagh shook the horses' reins and forced them into a tired trot while I gently pulled on Stardust's reins and got her going into a trot like the other horses.

Murtaghs eyes were fixed straight ahead, while Arya bounced limply in Snowfire's saddle.

Saphira stayed by Eragon's side, easily keeping pace with her long legs.

 

When Eragon started speaking again, I shot a small frown his way.

"Your tale is hard to believe. How do I know you aren't lying?"

"Why would I lie?"

"You know he has a point, plus do you really think I would have kept quiet about who his father is if I thought he would be a danger to you or Saphira and Midnight?" I glared more when I realized he was purposely ignoring me.

"You could be-"

Murtagh interrupted him quickly. "I can't prove anything to you now. Keep your doubts until we reach the Varden. They'll recognize me quickly enough."

"I must know," pressed Eragon. "Do you serve the Empire?"

"No. And if I did, what would I accomplish by traveling with you? If I were trying to capture or kill you, I would have left you in prison." Murtagh stumbled as he jumped over a fallen log.

I rolled my eyes at Eragon at his next speculation.

"You could be leading the Urgals to the Varden."

"Then," said Murtagh shortly, "why am I still with you two? I know where the Varden are now. What reason could I have for delivering myself to them? If I were going to attack them, I'd turn around and join the Urgals."

"Maybe you're an assassin," stated Eragon flatly.

"Maybe. You can't really know, can you?"

 

"Saphira?" Eragon asked simply.

Her tail swished over his head.

"If he wanted to harm either of you, he could have done it long ago."

"Saphira's right Eragon. Are you really asking these questions because Murtaghs given you a real reason not to trust him or just because you now know who his father is? Was it not all of you who said my father did not make who I was?"

Eragon finally sent a slight nod my direction as a branch whipped across his neck, causing a line of blood to appear on his skin. The waterfall was growing louder the closer we got.

"I want you to watch Murtagh closely when we get to the Varden. He may do something foolish, and I don't want him killed by accident."

"I'll do my best," Saphira replied as she shouldered her way between two trees, scraping off slabs of bark. Midnight was in my satchel bag by this point, which was thankfully big enough to hide her smaller size. The horn sounded behind us again. Eragon glanced over his shoulder and I was trying not to do the same. Most likely he's expecting the same thing I am, Urgals rushing out of the darkness. The waterfall throbbed dully ahead of us, drowning out the sounds of the night. And with that reminder, maybe facing the Kull would be preferable to the waterfall...

The forest ended, Murtagh and I pulled the horses to a stop. We were on a pebble beach directly to the left of the mouth of the Beartooth River.

The deep lake of Kóstha-mérna filled the valley blocking our way. The water gleamed with flickering starlight. As pretty as it was, I still didn't want to be anywhere near it.

The mountain walls restricted passage around Kóstha-mérna to a thin strip of shore on either side of the lake, both no more than a few steps wide. At the lake's far end, a broad sheet of water tumbled down a black cliff into boiling mounds of froth.

"Do we go to the falls?" Murtagh asked tightly, I really, really wish we didn't need to.

"Yes." Eragon took the lead and picked his way along the lake's left side. The pebbles underfoot were damp and slime covered and I suddenly wish Midnight didn't need to hide so I wasn't as worried about falling into the water.

There was barely enough room for Saphira between the sheer valley wall and the lake; she had to walk with two feet in the water.

We were halfway to the waterfall when Murtagh warned, "Urgals!"

Eragon and I whirled around, rocks spraying from under our heels, I grabbed a firmer hold to Stardust's reins in case I started to lose my footing.

By the shore of Kóstha-mérna, where we had been only minutes before, hulking figures streamed out of the forest. The Urgals massed before the lake. One of them gestured at Saphira; guttural words drifted over the water. Immediately the horde split and started around both sides of the lake, leaving us without an escape route. The narrow shore forced the Bulky Kull to march single file.

"Run!" barked Murtagh, drawing his sword and slapping the horses on their flanks, Stardust followed them when they jumped forward, forcing me to quickly release her reins or be dragged forward. Saphira took off without warning and wheeled back toward the Urgals.

"No!" cried Eragon, shouting with his mind, "Come back!" but she continued, heedless of his pleas. I caught part of Midnight and Saphira's conversation, Saphira telling Midnight she did not yet need her aid and to stay with us in case things got worse.

Eragon had finally tore his gaze from Saphira and plunged forward, wrenching Zar'roc from its sheath and I did the same to Islingr.

Saphira dived at the Urgals, bellowing fiercely. They tried to scatter but were trapped against the mountainside. She caught a Kull between her talons and carried the screaming creature aloft, I looked away before she started tearing into him with her fangs. Though my attention was regained when it crashed into the lake a moment later, an arm and a leg missing from what I could see.

The Kull continued around Kóstha-mérna undeterred. With smoke streaming from her nostrils, Saphira dived at them again.

She twisted and rolled as a cloud of black arrows shot toward her. Most of the darts glanced off her scaled sides, leaving no more than bruises, but she roared as the rest pierced her wings.

Eragon's arm twitched like he had to restrain himself from rushing to Saphira's aid.

Fear was building up in all of us, as the line of Urgals could be seen closing in on us.

We needed to run faster but all of us were too tired and the rocks too slippery. Any faster and we risked falling in.

Then, with a loud splash, Saphira plunged into Kóstha-mérna. She submerged completely, sending ripples across the lake. The Urgals nervously eyed the dark water lapping at their feet. One growled something indecipherable and jabbed his spear at the lake.

The water exploded as Saphira's head shot out of the depths. Her jaws closed on the spear, breaking it like a twig as she tore it out of the Kull's hands with a vicious twist. Before she could seize the Urgal himself, his companions thrust at her with their spears, bloodying her nose. She would definitely need some healing after this.

Saphira jerked back and hissed angrily, beating the water with her tail. Keeping his spear pointed at her, the lead Kull tried to edge past, but halted when she snapped at his legs. The string of Urgals was forced to stop as she held him at bay. Meanwhile, the Kull on the other side of the lake still hurried towards the falls.

"I've trapped them, but hurry- I cannot hold them long."

"Sister, are you sure you don't need my aid?"

"I will manage Midnight, just stay with them."

"Very well. But I do not like this, waiting."

Archers on the shore were already taking aim at Saphira.

Eragon seemed to concentrate on going faster, but a rock gave under his boot and he pitched forward. Murtagh's strong arm kept him on his feet right as I managed to get ahold of his other arm, clasping each other's forearms, they urged the horses forward with shouts.

We were almost to the waterfall. The noise was overwhelming, like an avalanche and I grabbed Eragon's arm a bit tighter. A white wall of water gushed down the cliff, pounding the rocks below with a fury that sent mist spraying through the air to run down our faces. Four yards from the thunderous curtain, the beach widened, giving us room to maneuver. Unfortunately that means the Urgals had that same room.

Saphira roared as an Urgal spear grazed her haunch, then retreated underwater. With her withdrawal the Kull rushed forward with long strides. They were only a few hundred feet away.

"What do we do now?" Murtagh demanded coldly.

"I don't know. Let me think!"

"Eragon, we need a stone and you need to shout the password while banging it against the cliff!"

He nodded and scanned the ground until he found a rock the size of an apple, grabbed it, then pounded on the cliff next to the falls, shouting, "Aí varden abr du Shur'tugals gata vanta!"

Nothing happened.

He tried again, shouting louder than before, but only succeeded in bruising his hand. Something was wrong, something we were doing was wrong but what?

He turned in despair towards us.

"We're  trap--" His words were cut off as Saphira leapt out of the lake, dousing us with icy water. She landed on the beach and crouched, ready to fight.

The horses backpedaled wildly, trying to bolt. Eragon and I reached out with our minds to steady them.

"Behind you!" cried Saphira.

We turned and glimpsed the lead Urgal running at us, heavy spear raised. Up close a Kull was as tall as a small giant, with legs and arms as thick as tree trunks.

Murtagh drew back his arm and threw his sword with incredible speed. The long weapon revolved once, then struck the Kull point first in the chest with a dull crunch. The huge Urgal toppled to the ground with a strangled gurgle. Before another Kull could attack, Murtagh dashed forward and yanked his sword out of the body.

Eragon raised his palm, shouting, "Jierda theirra jalfis!"

Sharp cracks resounded off the clif. Twenty of the charging Urgals fell into Kóstha-mérna, howling and clutching their legs where shards of bone protruded.

I had grabbed a handful of pebbles, "Stenr reisa thrysta!"

Thankfully magic is easier to aim than an arrow is and I sent the small handful of stones at the heads of the Urgals. Some dropped after being hit but most had helmets or the stones hit their horns.

Without breaking stride from either mine nor Eragon's attack, the rest of the Urgals advanced over their fallen companions.

I steadied Eragon so he wouldn't need to lean on Saphira if she had to fly off again. My spell, not taking as much energy as his, had.

A flight of arrows, impossible to see in the darkness, brushed past us and clattered against the cliff. We ducked, covering our heads. With a small growl, Saphira jumped over us so that her armored sides shielded us and the horses.

I could hear Saphira still insisting Midnight stay hidden for a bit longer.

A chorus of clinks sounded as a second volley of arrows bounced off her scales.

"What now?" shouted Murtagh. There was still no opening in the cliff, we had to be doing something wrong but what? "We can't stay here!"

We could hear Saphira snarl as an arrow caught the edge of her wing, tearing the thin membrane.

Eragon looked around wildly, trying to understand why Arya's instructions had not worked.

"I don't know! This is where we're supposed to be!"

I was looking at the other side of the waterfall when it hit me. We were on the wrong side.

I grabbed Eragon's arm, perhaps a bit too tightly thanks to the other thing I realized.

"Ouch! What is it Lyalle?"

"Eragon! We're on the wrong side. That's what's wrong. We're on the wrong side of the waterfall. We need to get to the other side!" There was no way I could hide the fear from Eragon… we would have to swim across.

Eragon slammed Zar'roc back into its sheath and exclaimed to Murtagh, "The Varden are on the other side of the lake. We have to go through the waterfall!"

Eragon noted with dread that the Urgals across Kóstha-mérna were almost to the falls.

I would take note of that later but I was too busy gripping onto Eragon over the whole swimming ordeal we were about to be forced to do… which is something I still wasn't capable of.

"Eragon I still can't swim!"

"I'm sorry Lyalle but we don't have time to think of another way across. Arya will have to ride Saphira. Just stay close to me and try to hold on."

I wasn't convinced but Midnight murmuring to me that she would save me before it would be too late had me nodding in agreement to Eragon.

Murtagh's eyes shot toward the violent deluge blocking our way, a deluge I really didn't want to be near.

"We'll never get the horses through there, even if we can hold our own footing."

"I'll convince them to follow us," snapped Eragon. "And Saphira can carry Arya."

The Urgals' cries and bellows made Snowfire snort angrily. Arya lolled on his back, oblivious to the danger.

Murtagh shrugged. "It's better than being hacked to death."

He swiftly cut Arya loose from Snowfire's saddle, and Eragon caught her as she slid to the ground.

"I'm ready," said Saphira, rising into a half-crouch. The approaching Urgals hesitated, unsure of her intentions, it almost had me smiling, you know... if I wasn't about to be forced to get into the water due to the situation.

"Now!" cried Eragon. He and Murtagh heaved Arya onto Saphira, then secured her legs in the saddle's straps. The second they were finished, Saphira swept up her wings and soared over the lake. The Urgals behind her howled as they saw her escaping. Arrows clattered off her belly. The Kull on the other shore doubled their pace so as to attain the waterfall before she landed.

I felt Eragon reach out with his mind to force himself into the frightened thoughts of the horses. Using the ancient language I heard him tell them that unless they swam through the waterfall, they would be killed and eaten by the Urgals. I don't think they understood everything he said, but the meaning of his words was unmistakable.

Snowfire and Tornac tossed their heads, then dashed into the thundering downpour, whinnying as it struck their backs. Stardust soon followed them. They floundered, struggling to stay above water. Murtagh sheathed his sword and jumped after them; his head disappeared under a froth of bubbles before he bobbed up, sputtering.

I put my sword away as well and grabbed Eragon's hand in a firmer, but less painful grip… I hope it was less painful... It probably wasn't...

The Urgals were right behind us; we could hear their feet crunching on the gravel. With a fierce war cry from Eragon, we leapt after Murtagh, closing our eyes a second before the cold water pummeled us.

The tremendous weight of the waterfall slammed down on our shoulders with backbreaking force that painfully reminded me of a time when I fell off the barn. The water's mindless roar filled our ears. We were driven to the bottom, where our knees gouged the rocky lakebed. Feeling Eragon about to kick off the lakebed I prepared to do the same. We kicked with all our strength and shot partway, out of the water. Before we could take a gulp of air, the cascade rammed us back underwater, and worst of all. Our hands broke apart from the force above us.

All I could see was a white blur as foam billowed around me.

I tried to surface by kicking off the bottom again like we had just done but couldn't put enough force to launch me to the surface.

Between my wet clothes, Islingr sheathed to my side and Midnight in my satchel, we were both stuck at the bottom.

I could feel Midnight wiggling around to get out of the bag and take us both to the surface when a hand slid around my waist and started dragging us up.

They sliced through the lake with quick, short strokes; like someone who grew up around stronger waters like this.

All I really knew was that the arm around me was too slim to be Eragon or Murtaghs, so it had to be one of the Varden.

We surfaced and stumbled onto the pebble beach. I coughed a couple times, sucking in air as my arms trembled.

Looking over I saw Eragon in a similar state next to a man, no, a dwarf most likely judging by their height and the starred helmet upon his head.

Sounds of combat erupted to our right, I whipped my head around in that direction, expecting an Urgal attack.

The Urgals on the opposite shore- where we had stood only moments before- fell beneath a withering hail of arrows from crevasses that pockmarked the cliff.

Scores of Urgals already floated belly up in the water, riddled with shafts. The ones on our shore were similarly engaged. Neither group could retreat from their exposed positions, for rows of warriors had somehow appeared behind them, where the lake met the mountainsides. All that prevented the nearest Kull from rushing us was the steady rain of arrows- the unseen archers seemed determined to keep the Urgals at bay.

A gruff voice next to Eragon grabbed my attention when the dwarf said, "Akh Guntéraz dorzâda! What were they thinking? You would have drowned!" I noticed Eragon jerk, most likely only now noticing the dwarf next to him.

The dwarf was busy wringing water out of his long braided beard. His chest was stocky, and he wore a chain-mail jacket cut off at the shoulders to reveal muscular arms. A war ax hung from a wide leather belt strapped around his waist. An iron-bound oxhide cap, bearing the symbol of a hammer surrounded by twelve stars, sat firmly on his head. I remembered mom's journal mentioning how the symbol belonged to one of the dwarf clans but couldn't recall which one. Even with the cap, he barely topped four feet.

He looked longingly at the fighting and said, "Barzul, but I wish I could join them!"

 

A feminine voice beside me reminded me of my own rescuer.

"I know Orik but we had a more important task."

"Aye, you're right."

The female next to me had dark crimson hair, almost darker than Durza's. Her right eye was a deep shade of blue while her left looked a bit paler like ice and had a scar over it.

She wore a brown long-sleeved tunic with a leather jerkin over it. It was hard to tell with only the moonlight to see but it looked like some chainmail was poking out from underneath the jerkin around her neck. Leather arm guards were strapped in place and black breeches. Leather boots stopping a few inches below her knees.

I think she might have been Horsts height or quite near it. From what I could see, her hair seemed to stop a little bit below her shoulders but some of it was in braids, so it could be a bit longer.

She bent down and grabbed a bow and quiver, strapping both to her back and drawing my attention to the sword also strapped at her waist. It could certainly be said she was prepared for ranged and close range combat.

I stood up when I noticed Eragon draw Zar'roc and start looking around for Saphira and Murtagh.

Two twelve-foot-thick stone doors had opened in the cliff, revealing a broad tunnel nearly thirty feet tall that burrowed its way into the mysterious depths of the mountain.

Frankly it was better than the water as far as I was concerned.

A line of flameless lamps filled the passageway with a pale sapphire light that spilled out onto the lake.

Saphira and Murtagh stood before the tunnel, surrounded by a grim mixture of men and dwarves. At Murtagh's elbow was a bald beardless man dressed in purple and gold robes. He was taller than all the other humans, though the girl beside me looked like she might come close to beating him in height. Hard to tell at this distance. As tall as she is, I thought she was an adult at first but looking closer, she seems more around mine and Roran's age.

Unfortunately, the man was also holding a dagger to Murtagh's throat.

I could feel Eragon reach for his magic, but the robed man said in a sharp, most certainly dangerous with the feeling I'm getting from him, voice, "Stop! If you use magic, I'll kill your lovely friend here, who was so kind as to mention you're a Rider. Don't think I won't know if you're drawing upon it. You can't hide anything from me."

I bit my lip when I heard Midnight, "I bet I could hide things from him… or just eat him."

"Please don't eat him. I don't think that'll help our situation." I still had to bite my lip to avoid smiling.

I noticed Eragon tried to speak, but the man snarled and pressed the dagger harder against Murtagh's throat.

"None of that! If you say or do anything I don't tell you to, he will die. Now, everyone inside."

He backed into the tunnel, pulling Murtagh with him and keeping his eyes mainly on Eragon. I guess they didn't notice I also used magic earlier.

"Saphira, what should we do?" Eragon asked quickly as the men and dwarves followed Murtagh's captor, leading the horses along with them.

"Go with them," she counseled, "and hope that we live."

She entered the tunnel herself, eliciting nervous glances from those around her. Reluctantly, we followed her, aware that the warriors' eyes were upon us, but mostly upon Eragon and Saphira.

Eragon's rescuer, the dwarf, walked alongside him with a hand on the haft of his war ax.

My own rescuer walked alongside me with her hand resting upon the pummel of her sword.

Utterly exhausted, we stumbled into the mountain. The stone doors swung shut behind us with only a whisper of sound.

Eragon looked back and I looked to see what he was looking at, what we saw was a seamless wall where the opening had been. We were trapped inside. But I'm not certain how safe we really were just yet.

Chapter 17: Murtagh's story

Notes:

Conversations with just " " are people speaking out loud. Conversations with ' ' and italicized are written conversations. Conversations that are both bold and italicized are mental conversations. With this out of the way I hope you enjoy the story.

 

The picture above is one my friend Anderson drew of my OC for me.

 

"This way," the bald man snapped at us. He stepped back, keeping the dagger pressed under Murtagh's chin, then wheeled to the right, disappearing through an arched doorway.

 

"Midnight, be careful not to move as much as possible. Who knows how they'll react if they discover you before we can talk to their leader."

 

"Of course I'll be careful. This one does not seem as strong as he tries to act. I'll keep him from hearing our conversation if he tries to enter your mind. Is there anything else you wished kept from him? We may not have a choice but to let him in depending on how things go from here."

 

I focused onto the bald man as the female guard on my left next to me had us follow behind Eragon and his own guard. The warriors cautiously following, the man who gave the orders, their attention more on Eragon and Saphira. The horses were led into a different tunnel and so long as no one took my satchel I hoped everything would go well. The bald man was not giving off a good feeling though.

 

"Hide anything to do with you, my magic, Murtagh's full identity and my visions. If you can, try to make it seem as if you weren't there during conversations and moments when we all were with you and Saphira. Also hide a few of my more personal childhood memories. I don't want them to know that I can't swim yet, nor about mothers journal or any of my lessons about the ancient language. Can you… can you also hide anything to do with the scar? Like when a few of the villagers' kids teased me about it or any conversations that directly mentioned it? Also Midnight, other than the antidote and that she told us how to get here, hide anything to do with Miss Thorn and her note. For all we know this could be one of the bald men she warned us about."

 

I felt a soft purr through the bond though Midnight was careful not to let it be a vocal one that everyone could hear.

 

"Of course I can do that, Lyalle. Do not worry, I will warn Saphira to have this discussion with Eragon before this man can begin any sort of interrogation. Mental or otherwise, especially in case you are right and he is who we were warned of."

 

I tried to be careful not to let the relief show too easily though I think my guard beside me noticed at least a little.

 

Ahead of us Eragon seemed to be a little dazed from the turn of events, but continued after Murtagh and I after him. Eragon glanced back towards us and Saphira and tried to give me a reassuring look while also checking on Arya with his gaze. Thankfully she wouldn't need another antidote but it would certainly help if she woke up sooner rather than later. Unfortunately, I think we won't have her help just yet.

 

Eragon hurried through the arched doorway and down a narrow corridor after the bald man with the rest of us following behind them.

The warriors kept their weapons pointed at us, though they still mainly seemed concerned with Eragon and Saphira.

We swept past a sculpture of a peculiar animal with thick quills and if circumstances were better I would love to do a charcoal drawing of it. The corridor curved sharply to the left, then to the right. A door opened and we entered a bare room large enough for Saphira to move around with ease. There was a hollow boom as the door closed and I couldn't quite stop my jolt at the loud noise. The boom was followed by a loud scrape as a bolt was secured on the outside. We were even more officially locked in than when we first entered the mountain… great…

 

I noticed Eragon slowly start to look around, most likely examining the area, Zar'roc in his hand, it looked like he had a tight grip on it and I was surprised they didn't make us give up our weapons when we first entered.

I started looking around as well and noticed the walls, floor, and ceiling were all made of polished white marble that reflected a ghost like image of everyone in the room, like a mirror of veined milk even if that sounds a bit odd. One of the unusual lanterns hung in each corner. Eragon suddenly spoke up, "There's an injured-" but before he could finish a sharp gesture from the bald man cut him off.

 

"Do not speak! It must wait until you have been tested." Usually I would argue that no an injured person could not wait but Arya had already been given an antidote and wasn't in much danger except maybe by foolishness of others around her while she's unconscious.

 

The man shoved Murtagh over to one of the warriors, who pressed a sword against Murtagh's neck, which seemed unnecessary since none of us were really fighting them and we hadn't planned to before getting here.

The man clasped his hands together almost softly; it seemed, "Remove your weapons and slide them to me." A dwarf unbuckled Murtagh's sword and dropped it on the floor with a clank.

 

Eragon didn't seem thrilled at being parted with Zar'roc and I didn't want to let Islingr go either but we both unfastened our sheaths and since I never removed my sword from the sheath I simply set them down gently together. Eragon had to set both blade and sheath on the floor and then he removed his bow and quiver and placed them down as well. I would place mine down like his but, that's a little hard to do when it's still attached to Stardust's saddle and she's not in here with us. We both pushed our weapons into a pile and then Eragon pushed them toward the warriors.

"Now you Rider. Step away from your dragon and slowly approach me," the bald man commanded Eragon, as rude as he is, at least he isn't a complete fool.

 

Eragon seemed puzzled but moved forward regardless, I on the other hand suddenly felt like I should have grabbed him and kept him away from the bald man.

 

When they were a yard apart, the man said, "Stop there! Now remove the defenses from around your mind and prepare to let me inspect your thoughts and memories. If you try to hide anything from me, I will take what I want by force. . . Which would drive you mad. If you don't submit, your companion will be killed."

 

"Midnight, Saphira … maybe it's too late to really think about this part but do you think this is going to hurt like when Durza tried to enter my mind, especially if I have to willingly let this person in?"

 

I can feel them both have a sense of unease before Midnight finally responded, "I don't know Lyalle but if it does. Know that we will try to ease as much of the pain for the both of you as we can."

 

"Right, right. Eragon I'm sorry but I'm not envying you for going first if that's what is about to happen."

 

Eragon sent back the feeling of reassurance before fully addressing the bald man and the guard beside me seemed to sense my sudden unease and was eyeing me from the side.

 

"Why?" Eragon asked the bald man, sounding aghast at the threat against Murtagh.

 

"To be sure you aren't in Galbatorix's service and to understand why hundreds of Urgals are banging on our front door," growled the bald man. His close-set eyes shifted from point to point with cunning speed. "No one may enter Farthen Dûr without being tested."

 

"How convenient if he really is one of the ones we were warned about."

 

"Saphira, please don't do anything until we know for certain."

I didn't disagree with her but if she starts growling or looking at him a little too closely the man could make up some excuse about us to these people.

 

"There isn't time. You need to take her to the healers!" Eragon protested.

 

"Silence!" roared the man, pressing down his robe with thin fingers and making me jerk back against my guard by accident. I'm not sure when she went from beside me to behind me.

 

"Until you are examined, your words are meaningless!"

 

"Eragon you dummy, tell them it's Arya. If she knew how to get here then they'll know her and may actually help instead of argue if they know it's her."

 

"It's Arya!" Eragon retorted frustrated at the man and pointing at Arya on Saphira's saddle.

 

The man seemed like he was about to call Eragon a liar or something of the sort before the dwarf who had saved him from the lake jumped forward.

 

"Are you blind, Egraz Carn? Can't you see that's truly Arya on the dragon? We cannot keep her here if she's in danger and needs a healer. Ajihad and the king will have our heads if we don't take her to the healers!"

 

The man's eyes tightened and he certainly didn't seem happy at being called out. After a moment he relaxed and said smoothly, "Of course, Orik, we wouldn't want that to happen."

 

I let out a sigh as he snapped his fingers and pointed at Arya, "Remove her from the dragon."

 

Two human warriors sheathed their swords and hesitantly approached Saphira, who watched them steadily.

"Quickly, quickly!"

 

After they unstrapped her, the bald man fixed a steely gaze on Eragon and with a flat tone stated, "You have much explaining to do."

 

As far as I could tell from behind him, Eragon returned the stare and I was just glad it wasn't directed at me. "She was poisoned with the Skilna Bragh while in Prison. A woman known as Thorn gave my brother the antidote to help her but said it isn't the usual antidote. The usual one is supposed to be Túnivor's Nectar, but I don't know if she still needs it or not. She's improved since we gave her the first antidote but hasn't woken up yet though she should have by now."

 

The bald man's face became inscrutable. He stood motionless, except for his lips, which twitched occasionally and I was worried he may still wait to give Arya further aid than what we already had.

 

"Very well. Take her to the healers, and tell them what she may need. Guard her until the ceremony is completed. I will have new orders for you by then." The warriors nodded curtly and carried Arya out of the room, my guard followed their progress with her eyes but did not move otherwise. If it weren't for other guards remaining quiet as well, it would be slightly more unnerving than what the situation already is.

 

Eragon also watched them leave and I wouldn't be surprised if he wished to go with them as well.

His attention was brought back to the bald man along with my own as he said, "Enough of this, we have wasted too much time already. Prepare to be examined."

 

Eragon did not seem to want this man in his head and with how threatening he's been since our arrival I do not want him in either of our minds as well. Still Murtagh had his eyes on Eragon and occasionally flicked towards me as well.

 

Finally Eragon bowed his head. "I am ready."

 

"Good, then—"

 

He was suddenly interrupted as the dwarf, called Orik, now that I recall his name from being said earlier, said abruptly, "You'd better not harm him, Egraz Carn, else the king will have words for you."

 

The bald man looked at him irritably, then faced Eragon with a small smile that felt menacing instead of reassuring. "Only if he resists."

"No." The sudden feminine voice behind me had me jolting a bit and the man looked irritated again.

 

"What do you mean Naeva?"

 

Tilting my head enough to see her, her brows were furrowed, "I mean exactly as I said. No. You will not unnecessarily harm him or the other two. If you do so and I do not deem your reasons good enough or simply too extreme even if they are good enough. I will be speaking with Ajihad and we will leave them here until he has made a decision. We are not the so-called king of Alagaësia. Caution is one thing but we will not go so far that it can be considered torture. Or would you rather have your actions have potential allies compare us to being no better than Galbatorix."

 

Her gaze was hard and even had me shudder slightly but the man inclined his head and did not argue, though it certainly looked like he wanted to if so many of the other guards didn't look like they agreed with her.

 

He bowed his head again but this time he began chanting several inaudible words.

 

Eragon gasped with pain and his eyes rolled up into his head. On instinct I began to step forward, "Not yet. If he goes too far I will stop him."

 

I looked at the girl but her gaze was on Eragon and the man. I felt nothing but truth from her and hoped no one would stop her from intervening if she needed to.

 

Saphira didn't seem happy with what the man was doing but neither she nor the girl apparently named Naeva made a move yet. At one point it looked like she was about to move forward but the man somehow noticed and eased up on Eragon enough she stopped her forward movement. Though she did narrow her eyes at him a bit more after that. Almost like she was daring him to make it worse again while she watched.

 

It felt like ages before the man stopped and Eragon swayed on his feet but managed to remain standing.

 

Orik placed a steadying hand on Eragon's shoulder before looking him over quickly. "You could have gone too far if you weren't careful! He nearly wasn't strong enough for this."

 

"He'll live. That's all that is needed," answered the bald man curtly, I shot him a look before Naeva spoke up.

 

"Correction, you may not have gone too far this time but don't think I didn't notice what you were trying." The man looked irritated but turned away from her quickly enough.

 

I doubt age is what is allowing her to out rank him, but if her being here along with Orik helps Eragon I'm more than glad.

 

Orik still gave a grunt that didn't sound too happy, "What did you find?"

 

Silence… I swear if he lies I'm asking Saphira to sit on him.

 

"Well, is he to be trusted or not?"

 

I could feel the reluctance from here as he finally did answer, "He. . . is not your enemy." The sighs of relief could be heard all over the room and even Naeva's eyes seemed to soften just a bit 

 

Eragon still seemed unsteady and was glaring at the bald man. A low growl rumbled in Saphira's throat and if it wasn't so important for Midnight to remain quiet, I could feel her own urge to growl at the man.

 

The bald man ignored them regardless and both thankfully and horribly turned to Murtagh, who was still being held at sword point. "It's your turn now."

 

Murtagh stiffened and shook his head, this would not go well. The sword cut his neck slightly. Blood dripped down his skin and I fought the urge as a healer to step forward and check on the cut for now. "No."

 

"You will not be protected here if you refuse."

 

"Eragon has been declared trustworthy, so you cannot threaten to kill him to influence me. Neither can you do so to Lyalle, his brother. To threaten Lyalle after declaring Eragon trustworthy could easily turn him and his dragon against you and you can't risk that. Since you can't do that, nothing you say or do will convince me to open my mind."

 

Sneering, the bald man cocked what may have been an eyebrow, if he had any. Midnight wondered if he burnt them off somehow and I had to fight the sudden urge to smile at the idea.

 

"What of your own life? I can still threaten that."

 

"It won't do you any good," Murtagh's voice sounded stoney and it was said with such conviction that it was impossible to doubt his word, which is part of what worried me.

 

The bald man's breath exploded out of him. "You don't have a choice!"

 

He stepped forward and placed his palm on Murtagh's brow, clenching his hand to hold him in place. Murtagh stiffened, face growing as hard as iron, fist clenched, neck muscles noticeably bulging even from where I stand. He was obviously fighting the attack with all his strength. The bald man bared his teeth with fury and frustration at Murtagh's resistance; his fingers dug mercilessly into Murtagh.

 

I began to step forward to try and ask them to stop this somehow but Naeva was already moving towards the man before I could finish a full step.

 

Orik on the other hand, just beat both of us to the chase.

 

Orik scowled darkly as he watched the combatants. "Ilf carnz orodüm, he muttered, then leapt forward, beating Naeva due to him being closer to Murtagh and the man. He cried out, "That is enough!"  He grabbed the bald man's arm and tore him away from Murtagh with strength that most might think disproportional to his size.

 

The bald man stumbled back, then turned on Orik furiously.

 

"How dare you!" He shouted and I flinched closer to Saphira. "You questioned my leadership, opened the gates without permission, and now this! You've shown nothing but insolence and treachery. Do you think your king will protect you now?"

 

Orik bristled and I was surprised his hair didn't stand up like a cat. "You would have let them die! If I had waited any longer, the Urgals would have killed them." He pointed at Murtagh, whose breath came in great heaves. I wanted to move closer and see if I could do anything to help but knew there was nothing and I doubt they would allow it yet either.

 

"We don't have any right to torture him for information! Ajihad won't sanction it and Naeva already said no to it as well. Not after you've examined the Rider and found him free of fault. And they've brought us Arya."

 

"Would you allow him to enter unchallenged? Are you…"

 

"Enough! That is enough, Orik is right and I will be speaking to Ajihad of this situation and how you handled it." Naeva's sharp eyes narrowing in on the bald man as he faltered at her interference.

 

Orik spoke up again, "Can he use magic?"

 

"That is—"

 

"Can he use magic?" roared Orik, his deep voice echoing in the room and if I wasn't next to Saphira before I was certainly next to her now. Her head tilted low enough to nudge against my arm and assure me she would look after us as we would her.

 

The bald man's face suddenly grew expressionless. He clasped his hands behind his back.

 

"No."

 

"Then what do you fear? It's impossible for him to escape, and he can't work any devilry with all of us here, especially if your powers are as great as you say. But don't listen to me; ask Ajihad what he wants done."

 

The bald man stared at Orik for a moment, his face indecipherable, then looked at the ceiling and closed his eyes for some reason… maybe he was praying for patience or for something to strike Orik down…?

 

A peculiar stiffness set into his shoulders while his lips moved soundlessly. An intense frown wrinkled the pale skin above his eyes, and his fingers clenched, as if they were throttling an invisible enemy… maybe he was imagining strangling Orik instead of praying for something to happen? For several minutes he stood thus, wrapped in what I finally realized was silent communication like when Eragon and I speak with each other.

 

When his eyes opened, he ignored Orik and snapped at the warriors, "Leave, now!" As they filed through the doorway, he addressed Eragon coldly. I wouldn't usually be glad to be ignored but I certainly was now. "Because I was unable to complete my examination and was told to wait before doing the other one, you and… your friends will remain here for the night. He will be killed if he attempts to leave."

 

With those oh so kind words, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, pale scalp gleaming in the lantern light and unfortunately, making me wonder if it were possible to draw on his head with charcoal and if it would even remain or rub off of his head without the use of water…

 

"Thank you," Eragon whispered to Orik and Naeva.

 

The dwarf grunted. "I'll make sure some food is brought." He muttered a string of words under his breath, then left, shaking his head. Naeva went to follow before stopping beside me, "If Ajihad wishes to still have you tested in the morning, I will make sure it is more gentle than what it was today. I know he is more than capable and had no reason to be as aggressive as he was." 

 

She too then left through the door, the bolt could be heard being secured once again on the outside of the door.

 

  We were all exhausted as we settled down against the floor, Eragon's eyes looked both hazy and half lidded. Saphira settled down next to us and I set my satchel down so that Midnight could finally crawl out of it. Once she did I pulled a small rag out and handed it over to Murtagh so he could press it against the cut. Once the bleeding slows I'll check on it more thoroughly, hopefully by then everyone will be settled enough that he'll let me.

 

"We must be careful. It seems we have as many enemies here as we did in the Empire."

 

I huffed and let my lips twitch up, "You can say that again Saphira."

 

Eragon nodded, seeming too tired to talk for now. Midnight just curled up against my legs and gave off a low purr now that she didn't have to be so still and quiet as before.

 

I looked towards Murtagh and could only describe his eyes as glazed and empty, he leaned against the far wall and slid to the shiny floor. He held the rag to the cut on his neck to stop the bleeding, so at least I won't have to try and press him to do so myself. How Gertrude put up with some of the more stubborn villagers, I'm not sure I'll ever truly understand.

 

"Are you all right?" Eragon finally spoke up. Murtagh gave a jerky nod, "Did he get anything from you?"

 

"No."

 

"How were you able to keep him out? He's so strong."

 

"He isn't that strong."

 

"Midnight, not everyone can stand up against a dragon, let alone two."

 

"I am only saying that he overestimates his abilities, little one."

 

I shook my head with a soft smile before giving the other two my attention again.

 

"I've. . . I've been well trained." The bitterness was pretty easy to hear from him.

 

Silence closed in on us except with Midnight still purring against my leg, I kept stroking my hand down her side while leaning against Saphira. I noticed Eragon's gaze drifted to one of the lanterns hanging in a corner. It was quiet for a bit more before he abruptly said, "I didn't let them know who you are."

 

Murtagh looked relieved and I sent him a soft smile that he returned as he bowed his head. "Thank you for not betraying me."

 

"They didn't recognize you."

 

"Well not everyone will Eragon. It's not as if many people except a select few would have been allowed to know he existed to begin with."

 

He huffed but otherwise ignored my comment. I'll remember how often he does this the next time I'm the one cooking again.

 

"No."

 

"And you still say that you are Morzan's son?"

 

"Yes," he sighed. I shot Eragon another look, honestly he should know better and if we all weren't exhausted and stressed I'd be dealing with this a bit more firmly.

 

Eragon opened his mouth to continue before stopping suddenly, I followed his gaze to see what had gained his attention to see blood on his hand. It had fallen from Saphira's wing and somehow hadn't gotten on me as well.

 

"I forgot. You're injured!" Eragon exclaimed. He started to get up before I nudged him back down and shook my head.

 

"You and Murtagh are more exhausted from what that man put you through, I'll heal Saphira."  He nodded and finally let himself be nudged back down.

 

Saphira inclined her head before unfolding one of her wings and lowering it to the floor. Murtagh and Eragon both watched as I ran my hand over the warm blue membrane, "Waíse heill," being used whenever I found an arrow hole. Thankfully, they were all fairly easy to heal, and I made sure to take care of where her nose had been hurt as well.

 

Once done, Eragon and I both slumped against Saphira. The journey starting to really take its effect now that any lasting adrenaline was wearing thin from all of us. We could both feel her great heart beating with the steady throb of life.

 

"I hope they bring food soon," Murtagh said. I let out a soft snort of agreement and Midnight purred just a bit louder.

 

Eragon just shrugged; surprisingly he may actually be too exhausted to be hungry. He crossed his arms, probably missing Zar'roc's weight by his side. Though I had to hold back a sigh at Eragon's next question. "Why are you here?"

 

"What?"

 

"If you really are Morzan's son, Galbatorix wouldn't let you wander around Alagaësia freely. How is it that you managed to find the Ra'zac by yourself? Why is it I've never heard of any of the Forsworn having children? And what are you doing here?" His voice rose to a near shout at the end and I lent away and glared towards him.

 

"Yes Eragon, because the Forsworn were just going to admit to having kids to everyone who wanted them dead."

 

"Not now Lyalle."

 

"Say that now but if you start ignoring me again when I say something, keep in mind I do most of the cooking and eventually you'll be eating food I make again."

 

Eragon actually side eyed me for a moment, most likely remembering a few colorful pranks he and Roran suffered from when we were younger. Though it did seem I piqued both Saphira and Midnight's attention to the veiled cooking threat.

 

Murtagh ran his hands over his face. "It's a long story."

 

"We're not going anywhere," rebutted Eragon.

 

"It's too late to talk."

 

"There probably won't be time for it tomorrow."

 

"Midnight, how long do you think they'll keep this up before one gives in?"

 

"Considering the situation little one, I do not believe Murtagh will continue to refuse for much longer." I sent a mental hum towards her as we continued to watch the other two.

 

Murtagh wrapped his arms around his legs and rested his chin on his knees, rocking back and forth as he stared at the floor. "It's not a—" he began before interrupting himself. "I don't want to stop. . . So make yourselves comfortable. My story will take a while." Eragon shifted against Saphira's side next to me and nodded. Saphira intently watched us all.

 

Murtagh's first sentence was halting, but his voice gained strength and confidence as he spoke. "As far as I know. . . I am the only child of the Thirteen Servants, or the Forsworn as they're called. There may be others, for the Thirteen had the skill to hide whatever they wanted, but I doubt it, for reasons I'll explain later."

 

"My parents met in a small village— I never learned where— while my father was traveling on the king's business. Morzan showed my mother some small kindness, no doubt a ploy to gain her confidence, and when he left, she accompanied him. They traveled together for a time, and as is the nature of these things, she fell deeply in love with him. Morzan was delighted to discover this not only because it gave him numerous opportunities to torment her but also because he recognized the advantage of having a servant who wouldn't betray him."

 

"Thus, when Morzan returned to Galbatorix's court, my mother became the tool he relied upon most. He used her to carry his secret messages, and he taught her rudimentary magic, which helped her remain undiscovered and, on occasion, extract information from people. He did his best to protect her from the rest of the Thirteen— not out of any feelings for her, but because they would have used her against him, given the chance. . . . For three years things proceeded in this manner, until my mother became pregnant."

 

Murtagh paused for a moment and I wished there was a way to make this discussion more easy for him as he began fingering a lock of his hair. He continued in a clipped tone,

"My father was, if nothing else, a cunning man. He knew that a pregnancy put both him and my mother in danger, not to mention the baby— that is, me. So, in the dead of night, he spirited her away from the palace and took her to his castle. Once there, he laid down powerful spells that prevented anyone from entering his estate except for a few chosen servants and a friend of my mother's that he could not get rid of. In this way the pregnancy was kept secret from everyone but Galbatorix and the Queen."

 

"Galbatorix knew the intimate details of the Thirteen's lives: their plots, their fights—and most importantly—their thoughts. He enjoyed watching them battle each other and often helped one or the other for his own amusement, even though the Queen disapproved from what I heard. But for some reason he never revealed my existence."

 

"I was born in due time and given to a wet nurse so my mother could return to Morzan's side. She had no choice in the matter though her friend heavily disapproved of Morzan's forcefulness. Morzan allowed her to visit me every few months, but otherwise we were kept apart. Another three years passed like this, during which time he gave me the. . . Scar on my back." Murtagh seemed to brood for a minute and I couldn't fault him when remembering the vision that showed him receiving that scar. Then he continued.

 

"I would have grown to manhood in this fashion if Morzan hadn't been summoned away to hunt for Saphira's egg. As soon he departed, my mother and her friend, who had been left behind to heal me, vanished. No one knows where they went, or why. The king tried to hunt them down, but his men couldn't find their trail— no doubt because of Morzan's training."

 

"At the time of my birth, only five of the Thirteen were still alive. By the time Morzan left, that number had been reduced to three; when he finally faced Brom in Gil'ead, he was the only one remaining. The Forsworn died through various means: suicide, ambush, overuse of magic. . . But it was mostly the work of the Varden. I'm told that the king was in a terrible rage because of those losses."

 

"However, before word of Morzan's and the others' deaths reached us, my mother returned and the Queen had been reported to have died from an illness and days after the werecat that always accompanied her disappeared. Many months had passed since she had disappeared. Her health was poor, as if she had suffered a great illness like the Queen, and she grew steadily worse. Within a fortnight, she died."

 

"What happened then?" prompted Eragon, I was curious as well but something about the story was bothering me. I just couldn't place what it was, though I could tell Murtagh spoke the truth of it all so far.

 

Murtagh shrugged  "I grew up. The king brought me to the palace and arranged for my upbringing. Aside from that, he left me alone."

 

"Then why did you leave?"

 

A hard laugh broke from Murtagh making me jump for a moment. "Escaped is more like it. At my last birthday, when I turned eighteen, the king summoned me to his quarters for a private dinner. The message surprised me because I had always distanced myself from the court and had rarely met him. We'd talked before, but always within earshot of eavesdropping nobles."

 

"I accepted the offer, of course, aware that it would be unwise to refuse. The meal was sumptuous, but throughout it his black eyes never left me. His gaze was disconcerting; it seemed that he was searching for something hidden in my face. I didn't know what to make of it and did my best to provide polite conversation, but he refused to talk, and I soon ceased my efforts."

 

"When the meal was finished, he finally began to speak. You've never heard his voice, so it's hard for me to make you understand what it was like.

His words were entrancing, like a snake whispering gilded lies into my ears. A more convincing and frightening man I've never heard. He wove a vision: a fantasy of the Empire as he imagined it. There would be beautiful cities built across the country, filled with the greatest warriors, artisans, musicians, and philosophers. The Urgals would finally be eradicated. And the Empire would expand in every direction until it reached the four corners of Alagaësia. Peace and prosperity would flourish, but more wondrous yet, the Riders would be brought back to gently govern over Galbatorix's fiefdoms."

 

"Entranced, I listened to him for what must have been hours. When he stopped, I eagerly asked how the Riders would be reinstated, for everyone knew there were no dragon eggs left. Galbatorix grew still then and stared at me thoughtfully. For a long time he was silent, but then extended his hand and asked, 'Will you, O son of my friend, serve me as I labor to bring about this paradise?' "

 

"Though I knew the history behind his and my father's rise to power, the dream he had painted for me was too compelling, too seductive to ignore. Ardor for this mission filled me, and I fervently pledged myself to him. Obviously pleased, Galbatorix gave me his blessing, then dismissed me, saying, 'I shall call upon you when the need arises.' "

 

"Several months passed before he did. When the summons came, I felt all of my old excitement return. We met in private as before, but this time he was not pleasant or charming. The Varden had just destroyed three brigades in the south, and his wrath was out in full force. He charged me in a terrible voice to take a detachment of troops and destroy Cantos, where rebels were known to hide occasionally. When I asked what we should do with the people there and how we would know if they were guilty, he shouted, 'They're all traitors! Burn them at the stake and bury their ashes with dung!' He continued to rant, cursing his enemies and describing how he would scourge the land of everyone who bore him ill will."

 

"His tone was so different from what I had encountered before; it made me realize he didn't possess the mercy or foresight to gain the people's loyalty, and he ruled only through brute force guided by his own passions. It was at that moment I determined to escape him and Urû'baen forever."

 

"As soon as I was free of his presence, I and my faithful servant, Tornac, made ready for flight. We left that very night, but somehow Galbatorix anticipated my actions, for there were soldiers waiting for us outside the gates. Ah, my sword was bloody, flashing in the dim lantern glow. We defeated the men. . . But in the process Tornac was killed."

 

"Alone and filled with grief, I fled to an old friend who sheltered me in his estate. While I hid, I listened carefully to every rumor, trying to predict Galbatorix's actions and plan my future. During that time, talk reached me that the Ra'zac had been sent to capture or kill someone. Remembering the king's plans for the Riders, I decided to find and follow the Ra'zac, just in case they did discover a dragon. And that's how I found you. . . I have no more secrets."

 

We still don't know if he's telling the truth," warned Saphira.

 

"I know," replied Eragon, "but why would he lie to us?"

 

"He might be mad."

 

"I doubt it."

 

"Good to know you doubt it Eragon. And again to the both of you, If I had thought for even a second he meant any of us ill will. Don't you think I would have said something the moment I saw him in my vision? At the very least be honest with me and yourselves, are you being this mistrustful now because you know who his father is or is there another reason?!" Glaring at them both as Eragon gave me a sheepish look.

 

Eragon ran a finger over Saphira's hard scales, possibly watching the light reflect off of them. It was certainly entrancing to watch the light on both hers and Midnight's scales.

 

"So why don't you join the Varden? They'll distrust you for a time, but once you prove your loyalty they'll treat you with respect. And aren't they in a sense your allies? They strive to end the king's reign. Isn't that what you want?"

 

"Must I spell everything out for you?" demanded Murtagh, which seemed a bit unfair since Eragon was trying to understand the situation even if he was still being a bit stubborn. "I don't want Galbatorix to learn where I am, which is inevitable if people start saying that I've sided with his enemies, which I've never done. These," he paused, then said with what sounded like distaste, "rebels are trying not only to overthrow the king but destroy the Empire. . . And I don't want that to happen. It would sow mayhem and anarchy. The king is flawed, yes, but the system itself is sound. As for earning the Varden's respect: Ha! Once I am exposed, they'll treat me like a criminal or worse. Not only that, suspicion will fall upon you both because we all traveled together!"

 

"He's right, said Saphira and I grimaced due to them both being right. And that's not even taking into account my encounter with Durza which won't help our situation much either once they learn about it.

 

Eragon ignored Saphira. "It isn't that bad," he said, trying to sound optimistic, which I would usually attempt to do the same but, Murtagh was making valid points.

 

Murtagh snorted derisively and looked away. "I'm sure that they won't be—" His words were cut short as the door opened a hand's breadth and three bowls were pushed through the space. Two loaves of bread and a hunk of raw meat followed, then the door was shut again.

 

"Finally!" grumbled Murtagh, going to the food and I moved to follow. He tossed the meat to Saphira, who snapped it out of the air before using her jaws and one of her claws to tear it in half and swallow her own half and giving the other to Midnight. Then he tore the first loaf of bread into threes while I did the same with the second loaf, he handed Eragon two pieces and his bowl, took his own two pieces of bread and his bowl, and then retreated to a corner as a took my pieces and bowl and went back to sit down against Saphira. Midnight having finished her half of the meat by then.

 

We ate silently. Murtagh jabbed at his food. "I'm going to sleep," he announced, putting down his bowl without another word.

 

I nodded towards him as Eragon responded, "Good night." He lay next to Saphira, his arms under his head as I laid down on his other side. Saphira curled her long neck around us, like a cat wrapping its tail around itself, and laid her head alongside Eragon's, as Midnight snuggled between Eragon and I. One of Saphira's wings extended over us like a blue tent, enveloping us in darkness.

 

"Good night, little one's." Could be heard from both Saphira and Midnight.

 

I could sense Eragon give a small smile before sleep took him.

 

I gave my own smile, "Good night, Midnight, Saphira."

 

With that, I too fell asleep at last.