The wind whistled through the hard packed, dry mounds of earth like a forgotten melody of the trees. Katrina dozed in Roran's arms, her wounds finally healed and breath finally slowed.
Arya stood with her back to the camp and warm firelight, gazing out over the dunes of solid earth. Saphira eyed her for a moment before turning her sapphire gaze onto Eragon, sitting close to Orik at the fire.
Something troubles her, Saphira hummed gently to Eragon.
Eragon allowed his gaze to wander over to the lone elf, stranding tall and proud and utterly alone. She is thinking and does not wish for me to pry is all, Eragon sighed. You know how she is. She snaps at me and treats me like a child every time I approach her.
Saphira snorted, a lick of flame and smoke curling from her snout. You are a child to her. And perhaps if you stopped confessing your undying devotion to her and making her uncomfortable, she might stop snapping so much.
Eragon scowled, although the truth in her words was undeniable. Sighing, he stood and began toward the lithe creature standing off on her own.
Arya did not even spare him a glance when he came to stand beside her. She only murmured gently, "I knew things have been much too quiet."
"What do you mean?" Eragon inquired, instantly wary.
Her eyes finally did meet his and what he saw there worried him. Usually, there was a look of impatience, a look of concentration. Now there was a careful blank, a forceful question mark. She was hiding something from him.
Was this strong creature before him actually worried enough to hide her thoughts from him? Eragon reached out with his mind, feeling hers blocked by a steel barricade of her custom make. Was that it, then? Was she afraid?
"I found tracks," she began delicately, her tone suddenly careful –much softer then he had ever heard it.
Eragon felt his stomach churn. "Tracks? Of what? Ra'zac?"
"Dragon," she whispered, voice barely loud enough for him to hear it. Even then, it took him a while to process the information. She closed her eyes, sighed, and turned her attention back to a large, rocky outcropping a few miles to the east.
"Thorn and Murtagh?" Eragon exclaimed, eyes widening.
Arya shook her head. "No. The tracks are much too small."
Eragon was silent for a long moment before cursing. "That means-"
It means, a slightly anxious Saphira growled, that another egg has hatched for that damnable kind…
Arya nodded slightly. "The Varden… has no hope against two dragons."
There was a long, sickening silence before Eragon cleared his throat painfully, all three of their minds. "What will we do?"
Arya moved closer, her face mere centimeters from his ear. Eragon felt his cheeks burn but forgot the tension when she spoke in the ancient language. "We will follow the tracks and kill the Rider and Dragon. Tonight."
…
It was well after midnight when Eragon felt Arya touch his shoulder to rouse him. Come, her mind prompted him. Saphira, are you awake? She added.
Silent and nimble, Saphira rose to her feet, intelligent eyes glittering with something very close to anticipation.
We will kill our own kin tonight, Saphira, Eragon muttered, feeling his heart lodged somewhere in his intestines. It saddened him, knowing that this new boy and dragon would be just like him… a casualty of war, killed only because they were on the wrong side…
Yes, she agreed, flexing her powerful wings experimentally. But we shall be one step closer to the Empire.
Eragon decided to take it as it was and simply nodded.
Come, Arya called, her mental voice seeming far off. She was already slipping graceful and cat-like from the top of a mound, sprinting toward the rocky outcropping, so close yet so far. Eragon tried to slide as elegantly over the parched ground, but found himself stumbling through the dark over clods of dirt and rock.
He didn't dare speak aloud during the hour of sprinting. He found his new body most adapt to the hardships of long runs, feeling his muscles evening out the pain and making it somewhat bearable.
The mountain ahead of them advancing ever nearer, small yet domineering in its own strange way. It seemed to loom above them, imposing and deadly, grinning with sharp obsidian teeth.
Arya slowed near the foot of the great base, peering up through the dark with her keen elven eyes. "There is a cavern there. Saphira would have to fly us onto the outcropping, but it is much too small for her to roost. She would have to wait for us below."
Eragon needn't hear anything else. He climbed up Saphira's scaly foreleg and onto her back, carefully avoiding the spines at the base of the neck. He turned, offering his hand to Arya and realizing, a bit too late, that it might not go over well with the independent elf.
Indeed, it did not. She glanced stonily at his hand before hoisting herself onto Saphira's back, nimble and graceful as a cat. She settled behind Eragon, and he specifically noted the insides of her thighs pressing against his legs. The young dragon Rider tried to clear his mind, opening his eyes only when Saphira's sizable girth lifted by the pounding of her wings at work.
The flight only took, at most, five seconds. Saphira's massive wings made a soft 'wompf' as she kept altitude level with the cavern opening. Eragon and Arya slid off of her back and onto the small ledge just outside of the dark cave.
Call me when they have been taken care of, Saphira commented blandly before beginning her slow descent.
Arya pulled out her slim blade, holding it securely in her right hand. Eragon followed suit. The tunnel is to narrow for us to go in side by side. Go behind me. I cannot risk losing our only rider –and please follow my lead.
Eragon could have easily told her that he had followed her lead since finding Saphira –unbeknownst to either of them, of course. Yet she had always been there to help, her presence seeming to lead him toward his future, even before he had met her. She was always there, always the driving force behind why he trained so hard and why he tried to please her.
And so far, he had proven insignificant.
He was jerked back into reality when a low, throaty growl seemed to permeate from the very depths of the darkness, raising gooseflesh on his arms. Barzul hummed softly in his hand, glinting in the darkness like quicksilver streaked with blue.
And then, in a horrible contrast, was a trembling voice.
"Wh-who are you? Why are you he-here!"
Arya tensed before putting her blade back within her sheath. Eragon… I believe we have miscalculated severely.
What do you mean? He asked slowly, keeping the comfortable weight of Barzul in his hand. He tried to peer around the elf, but found himself unable to. She seemed to be doing all that was humanly possible to keep the inhabitants of the cave from noticing him –and the other way around.
Arya shook her head, her dark hair brushing his arm. It's a child, Eragon. It's a dirty child and a tiny dragon… the dragon hatched for a child.
What!
"It's alright," Arya spoke aloud, breaking away from Eragon and leaving him alone in the darkness. He heard soft noises, little rustlings, and then another growl. "We aren't here to hurt you, but you must tell me, child… why are you here and how did you get the dragon?"
"I… I…" the child's voice sounded panicky, somewhat hysterical. The dragon growled again.
"We will not hurt you," Arya repeated gently. "Come with us. We will take you and your dragon with us. Eragon here, the boy with me… he has a dragon of his own."
"No!" the child suddenly screeched. There was instant pandemonium in which something large and heavy, a bit larger then Eragon himself, landed on his chest, pushing him to the floor. The child was still yelling, only Arya's voice has risen as well, trying to be heard.
"-not from the Empire!" Arya's voice rose above the other noises.
Everything stilled. The weight atop of Eragon shifted slightly but did not lift. The child was gulping for air but silent, waiting.
Arya continued, voice soft again. "We are members of the Varden. We are fighting against Galbatorix…"
The child was silent for a long spell before a soft, "The Varden?"
"Yes… now will you tell me where you got your dragon?"
"Can we…" a pause. "Can we see the dragon first?"
The weight atop of Eragon lifted off completely and he stood, putting Barzul away. The child and dragon were wild cards, yes, but he didn't think they would harm either Arya or himself.
"Eragon?" Arya called. "Will you call Saphira to come to the ledge?"
Eragon nodded, stumbling his way back into the faint light of oncoming morning. Saphira… there's been a…development
What sort? He heard her wings spreading below him and then the sound of hoisting herself into the air effortlessly. She was soon hovering beside him, looking curious. Are they dead?
Not quite, Eragon muttered, feeling Arya coming up behind him. He turned, eyes adjusting to peer through the faint murk. A waif of a child trailed Arya and Eragon could not see it was a girl child. She wore a dirty cowl and pants, that of a simple whipping child. The dragon beside her had cold, chiseled features, his intelligent eyes glittering a rich emerald, the same color of its scales.
Saphira snorted at the sight of them, eyes becoming slits. What is happening, Eragon?
They are not of the Empire. The girl's scared out of her mind and thought we were Galbatorix's men.
The other dragon had gone very still at the sight of Saphira's large body fluttering there effortlessly in the air. Saphira turned her eyes on the dragon. Can you fly?
Eragon could not sense its reply, but Saphira seemed to be pleased. Good. Then carry your Rider and follow us. We will lead you to our camp and then I will take you hunting. To Eragon, she grunted, An interesting find you've gotten, little one.
Eragon nodded slightly, climbing onto Saphira. Arya slid behind him, watching the girl carefully climb onto the smaller dragon's back. The dragon was just slightly taller then an average horse, but tiny compared to Saphira. He would grow quickly, though, Eragon realized, smiling slightly at the thought.
Maybe we have found you your mate, Saphira, Eragon murmured, smiling as he stroked her blue scales.
She snorted again. Quiet or I will throw you off. She darted away toward the west, slower than normal, waiting for the smaller dragon to catch up.
…
Back at the camp, once the girl child was asleep and Saphira and the other dragon were away, Eragon spoke softly. "What will we do with her? She's untrained and a child. Oromis is… gone. He cannot train her."
Arya was silent, glancing into the small flames that remained of their camp fire. "We will train her, of course," she finally answered. "I can help with swordsmanship but only you can teach her how to be a true Rider."
Eragon sighed, running a hand over his face and into his hair, groaning. "I just don't… I don't think I can train her. Oromis and Brom had an infuriating sense of stubbornness and I…"
"And you possess the same stubbornness," Arya commented wryly. She tossed him a small, ironic smile that made his heart flutter. "Every Rider does, or so I have heard. Get some sleep, Eragon. You will need it for the trip tomorrow."
"I cannot sleep, not after tonight's events," Eragon murmured, but settled himself onto his pallet anyway. But then he found himself falling into a rather trance-like state, noting for the first time that his eyes remained opened…
And then he was asleep, forgetting he had even asked the lovely elf a question. Arya smiled softly, more to herself, and shook her head. "That boy will not give up…" and then, with a sad frown, she whispered, "And I am finding it harder to deny him. But I will. All of Alagaesia depends on it."
…
The next morning Eragon awoke late –so late, in fact, everyone else was up and already knew the story of the waif child. Katrina, now full of life and seeming to have not suffered anything too terrible while with the Ra'zac, helped the girl clean up and Arya gave her a tunic that acted more as a dress for the tiny girl.
"How old are you, child?" Orik asked, glancing over at the emerald dragon, sitting protectively close to the girl. It seemed a bit distracted, though, and Eragon had a feeling it was speaking with Saphira.
"Fourteen," she murmured, voice steady. After a night of sleep and the kindness of two older women, she seemed to have warmed up to them all. Her tanned skin was accented with dark freckles and a shock of bright blonde hair spilling around slightly malnourished features. "My name's Abbila and this…" she murmured, reaching out to stroke the jaw of her companion. "This is…" but she suddenly stopped, nodding as if answering an unvoiced request.
My name, the dragon's voice began, much deeper and cultured than Eragon had expected, is Briam.
…
Author's Note: Wow, a lot happened in this chapter… I'm sorry for the delay, but my wonderful beta was busy –don't blame her! (Or me, for that matter, lol). Thanks to her, I was saved the error of saying our dear elf's hair was curly, lol. For some reason I keep thinking of her with long curls… hmmmm….
But in any event, I hope you all liked this chapter. Leave me some love.
Love love,
Eternity