The traveling was hard the next day, but made bearable due to the fact that Arya asked Eragon to ride with Saphira.
"The girl seems still unsteady on her mount," she alleged softly, glancing over at Briam and Abbila. "I fear she has not ridden him much."
Eragon remembered his own days of first flying and winced at the phantom pain that shot up his thighs. The scales of Saphira's back had chafed the insides of his thighs so horribly that they had left terrible scars. Only after the blessing of the Dragon in Ellesmera was his skin left flawless and without the pitted flesh. "I will be back," he told Arya, who was settling the packs onto Eragon's steed. She barely even glanced at him as she continued to tie down the bundles.
Eragon walked over to the girl, noticing now how peculiarly she was sitting by the fire. She looked slightly uncomfortable but masked it easily when Eragon came to sit beside her. "Are you hurt?" he asked simply.
She seemed to stiffen. "I… no, sir, nothing. I mean, I'm quite alright, really…"
Eragon smiled slightly. "His scales rubbed your legs raw, didn't they?" She looked at him in shock and he chuckled. "Abbila, I was a novice at one point, too. Not so long ago, in fact. Technically, I'm still a babe at the talent of being a Rider. The same happened to me in recent times."
She seemed a bit more comforted at his words and allowed a guilty blush to cross her face. She hid it from view, whispering, "I apologise for not telling you. It seems foolish to me now."
"Don't worry," Eragon replied as he stood. "I'll have Arya heal you while I make a saddle for Briam." He slipped away from the fire and returned to Arya. "She is chaffed at her thighs, just as I had suspected. Would you be willing to heal her while I make Briam a temporary saddle? I don't believe it is my place to…" his voice trailed off and he simply shrugged, feeling a slight hint of heat gathering at his cheeks.
Arya raised an eyebrow, turning her large green eyes on him. "I seem to recall you healing just about every wound on my body when we first met… Why is she so different?"
Eragon's cheeks burned now, and he sputtered softly, "You were nearly dead, Arya, and we had no women traveling with us! What was I supposed to do?"
He was shocked to see her smirking at him, something remarkable to Eragon's eyes. "Go make the saddle, Rider. I will tend to the young one."
"Thank you, Arya Svit-kona," Eragon said with a slight bow before turning away quickly. There was hardly any leather in the camp to make a formal saddle in the way Brom had done for Eragon, and so he decided to improvise.
He called mentally for Saphira to bring Briam to him. The young dragon had hardly left Saphira's side, being a living shadow with an attitude, so Saphira reported exasperatedly. Although she had a front of irritation, Eragon knew that she was secretly proud to finally have a companion and another dragon on her side. After seeing Thorn, Eragon had felt all of Saphira's being cry out in anguish.
Saphira and Briam approached, the young dragon looking slightly miffed. Saphira tells me you need to see me?
"Yes," Eragon spoke aloud. He did not think it his place to speak with this dragon on an intimate level and within his mind. "I need to fit you for a saddle. Come... but first call Abbila and see if she is healed." Briam was silent for a spell before murmuring, She comes presently. His voice had lost its irritation, now slightly interested. You know how to make saddles, then, Rider Eragon?
"Of course," Eragon answered with a small smile. "And soon, so will your rider. Now come forward."
Briam gracefully sauntered to stand before Eragon right as Abbila rushed from the campsite. She was slightly red at the face, looking uncomfortable. "You wished to see me?"
"Yes. I am making a saddle for Briam, but you must watch me closely and learn how to do it yourself. Someday you might be without my assistance and in need of this skill." Eragon, without any ado, measured the dragon's neck and chest just as Brom had done so long ago. He then took his pallet off of the packhorse, glad to see that with it and his wool coverings, there would be enough material.
Eragon withdrew a hunting knife from his pack before lowering himself to the ground, carefully cutting out an outline of the saddle. He quickly and efficiently fitted the saddle together using strips of his pallet. The wool made a soft cushion for the buttocks and inside of the thighs. "It will hardly be perfect," he spoke as he placed it onto Braim's back and tightened the straps. "But the chafing will not be as bad."
"Thank you," Abbila said, eyes wide with something very close to admiration.
Briam snorted slightly before adding, Yes, thank you.
"It's my job as your tutor," he said with a slight shrug and a smile. "Today we do not walk with the others –we ride."
…
It felt wonderful to be back in the air, feeling the wind whipping against his face. A soft drizzling rain had begun to fall, wetting his face and slicking his hair back away from his eyes. I fear that Briam may not be a strong flier, little one, Saphira confided, turning her neck for the second time to glance back at the emerald dragon streaking behind them.
He's young, Saphira, Eragon chided gently, do not expect so much out of him. Besides, he has not yet faced your training. By the time you are through with him, he might as well be living in the air and battlefield.
Saphira snorted, but Eragon could sense her pleasure at the compliment. Come along, then, Briam! She called out. Eragon could hear the other dragon's reply, something surprisingly snarky, and the dragon's wings began to beat more ferociously.
Soon the two dragons were side by side, the smaller of the two, Briam, looking slightly strained. Saphira, out of pity, slowed, though only slightly. The only way to make him stronger was to push his limits… or, at least, that is what Glaedr had done with her.
Eragon reached out with his mind, easily touching Abbila's. He would have to teach her to block her mind first and foremost. If Galbatorix were truly on the lookout for her, she would need the knowledge. Abbila, how are you holding?
She looked startled, eyes wide, and she glanced over at Eragon. …Fine… she replied hesitantly.
That's good, Eragon replied, smiling slightly. Do not fear me, Abbila, I will not enter your mind against your will… but there are some people who will. Galbatorix will be looking for you and he will use any method possible to find you. Will you allow me to teach you how to block your mind?
Yes, she replied, voice eager.
Good. Listen closely, Eragon murmured, voice lowering. If someone is trying to enter your mind, you will notice –maybe not immediately, but you will notice. Especially if they are trying to find your memories. It will be like a hand delving into your head, searching for something. What you need to do is picture a steel door.
What kind of steel door? She asked, voice keenly interested. In the back of his mind, Eragon heard Saphira through his connection, telling Briam about the different forms of flying depending on the weather patterns.
Any kind. It's your own personal protection from the outside world. Once you think of that door, focus on it. Make every single detail fixed in your memory. Then begin to barricade it, covering it with locks and bolts and chains –any sort of devices. Eventually, with enough practice, you will be able to summon the door at will and without concentrating.
Has this ever helped you? She asked softly. She sounded immersed in thought.
Aye. Many times. Especially against… against Galbatorix's Rider. Eragon paused, feeling the common lump in his throat begin to take hold of him again. His own brother… his own brother turned against him. Maybe not at will, but still…
…You mean Murtagh.
Eragon started. What did you say? How do you know- but he found her mind inaccessible to him, blocked from him by a steel door.
…
They landed early in the day in order to allow the others to catch up to them. For the remainder of the flight, Eragon had worried over her statement. She knew Murtagh. She knew Galbatorix, or at least was close enough to him in order to spirit away a dragon egg…
What was going on?
"Abbila-"
"I don't want to talk about it right now," she interrupted, her heavy pale eyes meeting his. "I would rather speak when everyone is here… it will save me much trouble. Will you teach me magic?"
Eragon was forced to comply. He found a small stone and tossed it to her. "Concentrate on that stone, and then try to lift it."
Three hours were spent with Eragon watching as Abbila struggled with the stone. She had managed to levitate it for close to ten seconds, but then it flopped back into her palm, once again lifeless. Saphira taught Braim intricate stretching maneuvers, nearly all of which he managed to accomplish.
It was within the third hour, though, that Eragon felt another presence enter his awareness, followed by three others. And then there were four beasts –common, stupid animals.
"The others have arrived," Eragon murmured, standing. "Help me gather firewood. We will give them a welcoming."
…
The meal was meat stew for all besides Arya and Eragon. It was halfway through the meal when Abbila asked nonchalantly, "Why do neither of you eat meat?"
Eragon answered quite simply, "You will not, either, when your training reaches its climax." Abbila looked at him skeptically but did not question further.
As if orchestrated, Orik asked, "So tell me, little one… how did you come across the young dragon's egg?"
Everything was motionless. Abbila paused, swallowed the piece of meat she had been chewing, and put aside her bowl. She looked pointedly at Eragon, as if he had caused the question, before beginning.
"I was a maid in the service of Lord Galbatorix. He took in new maids every year from the orphanage –they were given a sparse education in exchange for being obedient and quiet as they worked. I was one of his favorites. I did not speak unless spoken to, and even then it was in as little words as possible… I was a smart one," she added softly. "Those who did not adhere to his rules tended to… disappear.
I was cleaning one of the side suites when its inhabitant came storming in, fresh from battle, in a rage. He grabbed my arm and asked me if I knew who he was. I answered simply, 'no,' although I knew very well who he was. He was the Dragon Rider, Murtagh."
There was a collective stillness among the people in the group. Even Katrina's eyes had widened. Eragon supposed that Roran had spoken to her of Eragon's adventures and the story of Murtagh.
In a calm, emotionless voice that reminded Eragon of Arya, she continued. "He shoved something into my hand. It was cool and hard, but I dared not look at it. He told me to run as fast as I could and as far away as I could get. He looked feverish with anger or fear – I wasn't sure. He told me to find the Varden. He told me to find Eragon."
Her eyes bored into Eragon's, the pale blue of them too much for him to look on carelessly. She was emotionless in her gaze, simply waiting.
"He gave you the egg?" Arya spoke, her voice sounding too controlled. Eragon glanced over at her. She was collected, letting nothing out. Eragon knew she was worried.
"Yes."
"He told you to find the Varden and Eragon?" That was Roran.
"Yes."
"And he… he let you go?" Katrina.
"Yes."
"And the egg hatched for you?" Arya questioned softly.
"Yes… I do not think that was Murtagh's plan, though… he told me to deliver the egg to you, so it was mere chance that it hatched while I held it."
"It was no chance," Arya whispered, more to herself then to anyone else. "Eggs hatch only to those destined to have them. What you experienced was what we call wyrda. Fate."
"What is that Murtagh boy up to?" Orik growled. "What do you think of this, Eragon?"
Eragon could not speak, for the lump that developed every time Murtagh's betrayal was mentioned had resurfaced. This time, though, Eragon wanted to weep for joy. Murtagh had sent them the final egg.
Eragon stood and left the light of the campfire. The murky dirt beneath his feet muffled his unsteady footfalls. He walked until he stumbled, landing himself hard on the dirt. He didn't even bother to stand up. He lied on the dirt, tears leaking from closed eyelids.
Do you want my company, little one?
The voice was cool and compassionate, so sweet that it made Eragon's heart tug painfully. More tears sprung to his eyes and he was unable to answer.
There was a moment of silence and then, softly, Saphira spoke again. Murtagh was a truly noble spirit… perhaps we thought at one point that he was doing as his father had done… but now we know, don't we? We know now that he is still looking out for us. Even if he is forced to raise a blade against you… you are brothers. Even if you are sworn enemies, he still loves you. And I love you. Don't stay out too late, little one.
And with that, she departed from his thoughts. His tears coursed from his eyes and he felt his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. All of what she had said was true. All of what he had felt about Murtagh, all the pain he had caused himself by thinking Murtagh was now as evil as Galbatorix…
He was unsure how long he remained there, lying in the dirt, his tears causing a small eddy of water to form within the depression of dirt beneath him. But he remembered, vaguely through his relief and grief, that a tall figure lowered itself beside him. They smelled of spice and pine needles as they gently lifted him off of the ground and hugged him close.
He was unsure how long it took him to realize that it was Arya holding him and that she was crying, as well. Unusual behavior, he noted mentally, but not at all unreasonable. It was around that time that his memories failed to serve him and all went black.
…
The next morning he was up with the sun, feeling refreshed as only a night of crying could leave one. He was lying on an unfamiliar pallet that had a faint smell of clear water and grass, the smell of the forests of Ellesmera. Arya was sharpening her sword, feigning indifference, and sitting beside him.
"Arya-"
"It's about time you woke up," she murmured, not even looking up. Her clear eyes were curiously bright. It was only then that he remembered she had been crying last night, as well. "Everyone else has been up all night, milling about and being as antsy as possible. They thought you slipped into a depression."
Eragon sensed a strange lightness in her voice, something that was as precious as it was uncommon. "Forgive me, Arya Svit-kona," he answered airily. "I was simply… flooded by the sudden information." The elf barely acknowledged the honorific phrase, yet Eragon smiled gaily as if she had.
Oh stop, Saphira reprimanded teasingly from where she had been sitting with Briam. The emerald dragon shot an accusatory glance at Eragon, as if he had interrupted an important discussion. Smiling like a drunken fool –you look ridiculous.
Eragon only smiled, pulling himself up from the pallet and beginning to roll it up. He turned to look at Arya who was still sharpening her thin blade. "Thank you for allowing me to use your pallet."
She glanced up and opened her mouth, as if to say something, when Katrina rushed over. "Oh, Eragon," she breathed, "this may seem heartless but could you take over with the girl? I'd like to go find where Roran and Orik wandered off to –I need to speak with them both."
Eragon felt something within him tense. Thus far he had been fine around the girl, but now he was unsure as to how to behave. She was a tool of Murtagh's grace, the tool that would lead the Varden and Eragon himself to victory. With her at his side, with two dragons against one, surely the scales would tip.
"Of course," Eragon answered Katrina, smiling when she gushed at what a fine boy he was and how well he had adjusted to all of his life's changes. She hugged him before scampering off, childlike, to find Roran.
Abbila was sitting at the campfire, stirring the gruel cooking there with unmatched vigor. It looked to Eragon as if Katrina had been trying to teach the girl how to cook.
"Don't stir it so much and so quickly," Eragon scolded gently as he came to kneel beside her. "It will be as thin as water before it is even cooked if you do that."
"Oh," Abbila murmured, a slight hint of a blush rising to her cheeks. Her hand on the large wooden spoon slowed. "I was only a scullery maid… I never worked in the kitchens." There was an awkward silence before she ventured quietly, "I'm sorry. If I upset you last night. I thought that you might wish to know, though. Is it true that you and Murtagh are brothers?"
"Did Murtagh say that?" Eragon asked, eyes widening as he turned to examine the girl.
"No," she replied, eyes on the gruel. "I heard Orik and Arya speaking after she brought you back to camp. Orik mentioned your relation before Arya could shush him."
Eragon sighed softly. "Aye, we're brothers. And you didn't upset me, Abbila. The news was shocking and… and reassuring. I had thought that he had turned his back on us completely."
It was then that the girl said something infinitely wise, something that Eragon could hardly comprehend coming from such a small girl. "He has turned his back on you," she murmured. "But he sent a dragon in order to compensate."
…
Author's Note:
Because I love you all so very very much, I decided to make an extra-long chapter in which quite a bit has come to light. Thank you so much Bravo6 for your amazing beta work and infinite help and criticism. Where would this story be without your help? A lot worse, that's for sure. :)
Also, to all of my reviewers… I Love You! You all make my day! I have some personal comments for all of you who have reviewed the last chapter, so look for your name!