Saphira had not spoken with Eragon much, her thoughts a gentle question mark to Eragon's mind. When she did speak, her words were laced with something not quite sorrow, but much too poignant for Eragon's comfort.
Saphira spent most of her time circling above their heads. Her absence beside him made Eragon feel slightly put out, and the others seemed to be catching on. The next night at dinner, Arya softly spoke. "Saphira no longer eats with us."
It was a statement, not a question but Eragon answered anyway. "No, she does not. I worry about her. I've asked many times what is wrong, but after the burial of Horthgar she speaks little."
"Surely she is not still pining over the funeral?" Roran spoke up, words gentle.
Orik looked slightly upset at having been reminded of his once Great King. "Saphira should not still be in mourning –nay, I suspect some other culprit of stealing her thoughts."
"You should speak with her," Roran added.
Eragon looked over at Arya for her input, but she was silently adding branches to the fire and would not be engaged. Orik, though, nodded his agreement. Eragon stood and left the company and warmth by the fire without another word.
He calmly traced his way into a small outcropping of tiny knolls, feeling Saphira's presence ahead of him like a missing part of himself. It had been lonely without her being there beside him, without their mental conversations… something had to be terribly wrong for her to have cut him off so decidedly.
He found her at the other side of the knolls, standing still and tall, her neck craned upward so she could watch the stars. Eragon moved close to her flank, knowing fully well that she had sensed him before he had even come up beside her.
Are you all right? He asked finally, voice soft. The others are worried… I'm worried, too.
The stars look prettier in Ellesmera, she commented calmly, though sadness laced through her words. But I think that now I would never have the strength to go back.
At first her words confused Eragon, and then they alarmed him. What do you mean, Saphira? Saphira, you aren't making any sense…
Saphira lowered her massive head to look at him, infinitely patient. They have passed on, Eragon. I can feel his absence, and if he is gone… so is Oromis. It's Glaedr, Eragon. Glaedr and Oromis. We are the only Varden Rider and Dragon left.
Her words were swimming with sadness to the point that, at first, Eragon didn't understand what she was saying. But then it sunk in. Oromis and Glaedr were… gone. Eragon felt his throat seal up, as if a fist was squeezing him, not allowing him to breathe.
So many deaths… and so many allies who he had seen take their final breaths –and now Oromis and Glaedr? He looked up at Saphira, finally speaking. We knew the time was soon when they would pass. Oromis… Oromis warned us.
Saphira's consent to his words were unsaid but not unheard. She lowered herself to the ground, curling a wing around Eragon, sheltering and comforting. They lay like that for a time, silently watching as the stars died.
…
A week of hard riding had placed them at the Jiet River, leaving Surda and Varden territory behind yet again. Orik was much more jubilant, claiming Helgrind was but two days away at most.
Eragon had become used to sparring long into the night with Arya, hardly ever willing to put his sword down. More than once he had dropped out of exhaustion, muscles giving painful spasms but leaving him laughing and panting. Arya was one of the best fighters, even within the Elven race and he had the opportunity to spar with her every night.
He was beginning to notice small changes, too. Little things that normally wouldn't make much of a difference –but they did with Eragon. He no longer put so much effort into swinging his sword, wasting useful energy. Instead he had become more agile on his feet and faster in parries and defensive maneuvers.
He had also been able to mark Arya twice with his blade; it was a feat for a novice such as Eragon.
Roran was also improving, as Orik said that night. Their stew was filled with rabbit meat, which Orik seemed to have overlooked. While the dwarf and Roran tore into the food with gusto, Arya and Eragon ate the remainder of the bread and some berries.
After dinner, Eragon grabbed Barzul, ready to spar, but Arya put an arm on his shoulder. "Rest tonight, Eragon," she murmured in the ancient language, her lovely eyes seeming a touch darker than usual.
"Why? What is it?" he asked, worried despite the rational side of him that claimed Arya was fine and hiding nothing from him.
"I believe we will reach Helgrind tomorrow. I will not stand for you being too tired or sore. Orik has already agreed to let Roran out of the nightly practice."
Saphira snorted from where she laid beside Eragon's pallet. One large eye glanced at Arya, asking, Do you really think the Ra'zac will be too much for us?
Arya sighed. "You know as well as I, dragon, that if you underestimate your opponents then it leads to terrible repercussions. I am simply being cautious."
Saphira grumbled something about being a smidgen too cautious and Arya shrugged. "It matters not. I will not spar tonight. Try to get as much sleep as possible." And, subtly, her hand slipped across Eragon's as she turned to leave.
Eragon was left standing in the middle of their campsite, cold shivers raising gooseflesh on his arms, wondering if the touch was something completely accidental or…
Saphira snorted again, a small flame shooting from her nostrils. Stop obsessing and come to bed, she murmured.
Eragon complied.
…
Helgrind was a massive fortress in the midst of absolutely nothing. Parched ground, devoid of any life whatsoever stretched as far as Eragon could see. Saphira let out a tiny growl deep in her throat, making Roran start. He seemed much more jumpy then Eragon thought him to be.
"Are you all right, Roran?" Eragon asked evenly, feeling Barzul within its sheath humming. The sword had never done that before… but then again, he had never fought a real battle with the sword, either. Maybe it could sense the blood about to be spilled.
"I'm fine," Roran answered, though his voice was very low. He had him hammer out already when he asked, "We need a plan…"
Arya nodded slightly. "We mainly need stealth. Eragon and I are both light on our feet –we should go in first. As far as I can see, there are two Ra'zac and two Lethrblaka patrolling the area… I can take two at once. Eragon, Roran, you two take the middle. Orik can take the last. Saphira, we need you to stay here and out of sight."
Saphira made a rather rude sound in the back of the throat, making Arya sigh.
"Saphira, you must stay out of sight," she repeated. "You are not exactly stealthy. Stay with the horses here. We will need quick access to you. Eragon," she continued, leaving everyone else to try and keep up with her train of thought, "Will you be willing to let Katrina have your horse? If she is strong enough to ride, I'd rather her have her own horse. Saphira would be a more then suitable steed for you."
Eragon nodded. "I am fine with riding Saphira."
Arya nodded, eyes firmly planted on the fortress. "We rush the front gate, kill them soundlessly, and then go in. Once inside everything we do needs to be quick and silent. Orik, try not to make too much noise." Orik glared at her. "And Roran, I know you are fond of yelling when you lunge, but please refrain. It may save all of our lives. Are we ready?"
Eragon and Roran dismounted and Arya murmured, "We'll have to sneak around from the side. Everything must go smoothly." When no one spoke up to override her words, she nodded grimly, trying her hair back away from her face. "Lets go."
…
Their stench was enough to make Eragon wish he had not been sworn to silence. They were preparing to jump out at the four on guard, none of which seemed to actually be watching anything. The Ra'zac Orik had been assigned snoozed against the wall. Arya's two Lethrblaka were talking in a bored tone with Eragon and Roran's quarry.
"Ready?" Arya breathed in Eragon's ear. Eragon nodded, prodding Roran. Silently they crept around the side, coming up behind them. Eragon and Roran's shared Ra'zac noticed them first and began to wail, but was promptly shut up by Roran's hammer and Eragon's sword. Arya had swiftly disposed of both Ra'zac with a clean swipe of her sword.
They turned, finding Orik still pounding on his Ra'zac's very dead, very beat-in head.
"Orik," Eragon whispered harshly, catching the little man's attention. The dwarf looked up, and angry twist to his fast. "Aye, aye, I'm coming."
The door was a complex hive of twists and knobs, none of which Arya used. Instead she bent down, hooking her fingers under the door, between earth and wood, and heaved it upward. The door rolled up, leaving the tunnel-like access open.
They filed inside, hugging the walls that were dank and smelled of mold. Eragon, unable to help himself, asked, How did you know how to do that with the door?
Arya answered promptly as she shimmed across the wall, It was an idea they must have stolen from the pirates –they use the same trick doors.
He would have asked how she'd known that, but decided against it. Maybe when they were safely back at Surda and had Katrina he would, but right now…
Now they had larger issues.
…
"Where do you think everyone is?" Roran asked, an hour later, as they searched yet another floor of cells. Most of them were empty, more still with half-dead humans, much too far gone to be rescued. "Surely there are more then two Ra'zac and two Lethrblaka in this vermin-infested place."
"Oromis said there were very few Ra'zac," Eragon murmured, remembering the lesson well. "But as for the Lethrblaka… I can only guess. We need to go below ground," Eragon added suddenly. He looked up. "She was in a dungeon, not a cell. When I scryed Katrina, she wasn't in a cell. She was in a…"
Arya nodded slowly, her sword gleaming in the faint light from a nearby slotted window. "Below ground…"
They quietly retraced their steps, finding a spiral staircase cut into the very stones of the fortress. A horrid stench, like wet, decaying animals, rose from the depths. Orik groused. "I believe we've found ourselves the other Lethrblaka. Of course they'd be guarding their main prisoner."
Eragon and Arya, without even speaking, began to descend the steps together. Eragon felt a sense of horror rising within him. There would be no reason to put every single Lethrblaka into the room with their hostage. That would be overkill. No, the only reason so many Lethrblaka would be in the same room with a prisoner was for…
Blood.
Murder.
Arya seemed to have thought the same thing, for simultaneously their steps quickened, still soundless and light, but nonetheless faster. There were sounds coming from the lower level, sounds that were neither human nor animal but nonetheless threatening.
Arya and Eragon hit the final stair at a run, only to find at least twenty of the Lethrblaka circling around a thin, waif-like body on the damp stones.
Eragon didn't even spare a glance at any of his companions, didn't even wait for Arya to tell him her thoughts. He rushed at the closest pair of Lethrblaka, taking them both out with a swipe at their necks, slicing through easily.
He was through five of them before the rest noticed him there. Arya was beside him, silent as she killed two at a time, whirling and moving like a dancing apparition from some nightmare.
He heard shouts in an alien, reptilian tongue and everything was suddenly a blur of motion and sound. Eragon had to continuously turn and dive, duck and roll between enemies, four of which would come at him at once. He heard Roran give a bloody war cry, obviously having forgotten Arya's words of advice. Orik, as well, was beside him, doing his share of the damage.
It was over almost as soon as it had started. Eragon fell, exhausted and bleeding, onto his knees beside one of the slain Lethrblaka, breathing heavily and clutching his left arm. A deep gash ran along the appendage, making him wince. "Waíse heill," he whispered, feeling his deep cut mending itself with his magic.
He then remembered Roran and Katrina and stood, lurching slightly. Roran held the thin body that Eragon had noticed earlier, tears streaming down his face. Orik and Arya stood around him, Arya suffering quite a few scratched and Orik covered in blood –most probably Lethrblaka blood.
"Roran?" he asked softly, stepping forward. Dread filled him. Was she… was she dead?
And then the thin body lifted its head and squinted up at him, the dirty face whispering, "Oh, Roran… is that little Eragon? How he… how he's grown…" And then he head rolled back onto Roran's chest, eyes fluttering closed.
"Katrina!" He called, eyes wide in worry.
Arya smiled, placing a hand on Roran's shoulder. "She sleeps. Come, and hurry. We must ride back to Surda and have the Varden look after her. Only rest and food will help her now."
Roran nodded, his eyes still exuding moisture. He picked her up, easily, in his arms and carried her up the stairs, Eragon and Orik in front, Arya behind.
We saved Katrina… now for the rest of Alagaesia.
Mentally, he could feel Arya's weariness. Yet under it, a small sense of pride. Yes. Now for the rest of Alagaesia.
Author's Note:
Thank you thank you thank you to my new beta, Bravo 6. You are amazing and you did a wonder with this chapter. I adore you. :) As for all of the others who had volunteered to beta for me, a big thanks to all of you, as well. I was shocked to find so many people were willing to do that for me! Kisses and hugs for you all.
Anyway, give me some input on this chapter. I want to say a quick thanks also to Sethro72… you mentioned how Saphira had been left out and I applaud you for that. I must say, I was so involved in getting the characters through the small things and toward Helgrind that I, alas, forgot to have some quality time between Dragon and Rider. Thank you for mentioning that and drawing it to my attention.
To all of my reviewers: I love you all. You're so wonderful for all of the comments. 51 reviews for 4 chapters! Wow, that's wonderful. Thank you all! You are what keeps me from giving up on this story completely!
Love love,
Eternity