WRITTEN IN THE STARS

PROLOGUE

Eragon opened his eyes, woken by the jolt of the ship.

Above them on the deck, a pleased murmur spread among the elves. He knew there was good news to come, but it paled compared to what he was going through. He wanted to stay in the blurred curtain of the world, as if it could blur the pain in his chest. It seeped into his very bones, invading the rest of the body through blood and flesh. Arms hung limp on the cot and his legs weighed like stone. The pain was searing, aching, and tearing. So many sensations… so much feeling. He felt something in him, thrashing to break free. Waiting to tear him to pieces. He had long ceased his weeping but he could not breathe, could not exist.

Arya.

And thus he lay for the rest of the journey, like some pitiful invalid. Eragon did not understand... it was no different to being leagues away from her back in Alagaesia. Why then, did he feel this way? Was it because he might never see her again? She still entered his mind daily, into his dreams at night, and everywhere he turned he heard her voice. For the most part, Saphira left him alone. However, even she could not bear for this to continue.

Eragon… she said gently, hesitantly. I know it is difficult- believe me when I say this- but this is not the end. You will see her again.

He did not immediately reply, and his blank eyes stared at the ceiling. The world around him grew slower and grayer each day. At last, words made it past the permanent lump in his throat.

"What's wrong with me? I think I'm going mad," he whispered aloud as well as mentally.

Across their link he sensed Saphira's empathy.

Oh, little one… my heart breaks with yours. Have strength, Eragon. Have strength! We are nearing land!

Eragon sent her a faint acknowledgement. Saphira sighed through their link.

How is it that she has this effect on me? He despaired bitterly, clawing at his face. I feel so empty. There is so much pain in me that I may as well be in a pit of fire.

Saphira remained silent for a moment before saying softly: You really do love her, don't you?

Is this love? I would rather battle a thousand shades...

Scenes played in his head over and over again… plaguing him, mocking him. Her limp form in Gilead. The Yawë on her shoulder. Her strength, her courage, her wisdom, her beauty. Her pains, her sufferings, her smiles and warmth. Her everything. Eragon remembered the big things to the little things- his first spar with her, the battle of Farthen Dur, the morning glory she showed him, how she gazed up at him before fighting Murtagh, how she searched for him in Alagaesia. Defeating Varaug, she had looked like a goddess. And his gilded lily… when she admired it, all he wanted to do was take her pain away. When she disfigured her hand in Dras Leona he mourned. Whispering their true names to each other, walking arm in arm with her to the Talita. Firnen whisking her away… he remembered it all. They were engraved in his mind forever. Barzul, he even missed her cold, aloof expressions and steel hard gaze. But then… a small voice entered his head. Would she approve of you wallowing in grief? No. She would not.

I know. But it's just too much. I have tried, and failed.

Really? Is it not that you would rather drown in your emotions?

I just can't. I have been through too much with her. I have let her slip through my fingers too many times. All that… just to lose her? Fate is cruel indeed.

That is life. We must move on.

Perhaps I will. For the moment… I think it is my time to be tortured by these memories.

You are the leader of the new Riders. You must be strong.

I am human.

Not really… not anymore.

How can I be strong?

Do it. Do it for her.

Eragon lay there a long while in silence. And slowly, gradually, he felt the pain abate. Strangely, he drew small comfort from the knowledge that there was still something he could do.

He would be strong, he would rise up. For her, he would do this for her.

"I can't do this anymore," he growled to himself. With a stony resolution, Eragon rolled out of bed. He straightened up, even as he felt the muscles in his body tremble. Outside the small window he could see the green of grass and trees.

Saphira was taken aback by his abrupt change in attitude but heartily welcomed it. Eragon, you have decided well. I am very glad, and very proud of you.

Eragon drew in a deep, trembling breath. I had to… and besides, you would be morose along with me, he said with a hint of dry humour.

It was an improvement, but Saphira was still concerned. Do not worry about me, little one. I am afraid for you.

His facial features felt very heavy and his shoulders slumped a little. I have to… pull myself together. This is the only way I'll live. I just can't do this anymore. Moreover, it's embarrassing that I am in this state after being so enthusiastic at the start. What will the elves think of me?

Love makes fools of us all. I'm sure they will understand.

Eragon tried to smile but grimaced. Sighing, he shaved, washed his face, changed into fresh clothes, and- for the first time in three days- went up to the deck. The cool air blasted his face as soon as he stepped out, as if cleansing him. When his boots hit the wooden stairs, heads turned in his direction. Murmurs of "Shadeslayer" floated around. Beyond the prow, a massive snow-capped mountain loomed ahead, clouds crowning its peak. He walked to the front and grasped the railings, trance-like. Behind the mountain, he glimpsed a wide valley lit with the kisses of the sun. The land was thickly blanketed by rich greenery and blessed with vibrant colours. Even from the ship, he could see the heights of the trees, the bulk of their trunks like the waists of giants.

Where are we?

I do not know, but it seems we have found a land fitting for riders, answered Saphira in satisfaction.

We have yet to explore it.

The sapphire dragon dipped down from the sky. He looked up as she winked. I have the feeling it won't take too long to decide.

Blödgarm appeared to his right. "The land seems rich and fertile. And the scale is… enormous."

He did not enquire about Eragon's absence up on deck. For that, Eragon was grateful.

"Aye. It is majestic. My only hope is that it is not already inhabited by people."

The elf nodded. "We all grow restless and long for ground beneath our feet. And Saphira is growing weary. Even if it is a claimed land, we must needs rest before restarting the journey."

"I agree. Shall we let the anchor down over there?" Eragon asked, pointing to a small bay to the north-east.

"Yes, that should be fine."

When they set foot on the shore, and the sand sank invitingly beneath, Eragon felt a rightness. He looked up at the tall, ancient giants that stood guard. They were not pines, but of a subtly different kind- nevertheless, they reminded him of Ellesmera. At this thought, he felt sick to the stomach. Arya. The ache in him intensified. With difficulty, he tried to swallow it down. He was not entirely successful, but the prospect of a new beginning helped give him hope.

Saphira alighted next to him on the sand.

Hm.. I think I will like this place.

A small smile lit up his face.

Yes, I think I will too.