It was near. The scent of the creature tickled his nostrils, making his stay in the punishing mountains worthwhile. Exhausted, he trekked along the rough terrain of the Spine. Years of intense training had made Eragon extremely fit, but he had never liked the cold.
Sadly, he thought of what his life used to be. The warm fireplace, soft bed, good food, friendly faces of his uncle and brother- he remembered it all. Before his life was changed, he always came home to a welcoming family after a hunt in the Spine, even if it was unsuccessful. He had people he could count on.
But that was not true anymore. Now his uncle was dead, and his brother a hardened war machine that he hardly knew. And today, instead of deer, he was on the hunt for an unknown creature that held information. Important, life-giving information.
Deftly and as swiftly and quietly as a cat, Eragon climbed the nearest tree. He could see the village from his vantage point. It was easy to imagine himself going down to the village, welcomed and accepted by the people there, but he knew it was impossible. There were no people there. It was deserted. Galbatorix had crushed any hope he ever had of going home again.
As if of its own accord, Eragon's head turned back toward the dark, forbidding woods.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a little creature stumbled past his tree. It was injured in many places, but still managed to move without making a sound. It moved like it was being hunted. Well, thought Eragon, I suppose I am hunting it. The poor creature was so pathetic that Eragon saw no threat in going down to meet it. He slipped down the tree and met its sad eyes.
"Ayah!" The creature cried. When on ground level, Eragon saw that it was a dwarf. "Get away! I have no business with you!" The dwarf spoke in a low, frightened voice, as if he perceived Eragon as a threat to his life.
Slowly, without making any movements that might startle the wretched creature, Eragon lifted his hand so the gedwey ignasia showed clearly. Quietly he said, "I do not wish to harm you."
"Thank the gods!" The dwarf fell to his knees in relief. He had a hardened, round face, a receding hairline, and torn, dirty clothing. "I have been hunted for weeks by some mysterious being, scared to the very end. Perhaps you may help me, Argetlam."
Eragon stepped forward cautiously. It could be a threat, a trap. All of Brom's old lessons repeated themselves in his mind. Every possible scenario passed before his eyes, and his mind warned him to be cautious. His instinct, rather than his mind, took over. He stepped forward, and said, "Waise heill!"
The dwarf's mouth dropped open as his injuries began to heal themselves. With frightened, hunted eyes he looked up at Eragon and asked, "What devilry is this?"
"It is the power of the dragon rider," Eragon replied. "I shall serve you until you reach your goal."
The dwarf almost smiled as he looked up at the sky. He cried a loud, wild cry. It echoed between the mountains and the trees. It sounded like the screech of an eagle, the hammer of an anvil, and the beat of Saphira's wings. It sounded like the heart of Alagaesia.
When the dwarf fell silent, and Eragon chanced to look at him again, there was another she-dwarf with him. Her face mirrored the other dwarf's, for it was beaten and sad. She looked very young, but tired. The small she-dwarf did not look afraid; she looked like she had resigned herself to death.
"Argetlam," said the older dwarf, "if you will heal my wife as you healed me, I shall repay you with information as valuable as the life of Galbatorix himself. I assure you, it is information worth hearing."
Eragon hesitated. He was extremely weak, and did not know how much more magic he could do without overextending his limits. The dwarf's wounds had been deep, and the she-dwarf looked even worse. Taking a deep breath, Eragon prayed that this information would be worth his energy.
"Waise heill!" he shouted once more. Suddenly everything went out of focus. He staggered and fell. A small shape- it must be the dwarf, though he could barely see it, came up to him. He felt the strangest sensation, as if a piece of his head was gone and a new piece replaced it. Then the world went black.
When Eragon awoke, he was resting against Saphira's side, warm from the fire in her belly. Gently, she said, Are you okay, little one?
I think… I think I'm all right. Eragon replied.
A worried, scolding tone crept into Saphira's voice. You almost died. How could you be so careless?
Eragon sighed, and said aloud, "They told me they would give me the information I have been seeking. I believed them."
Saphira's eyes were sad. Look there, young one. Saphira nodded towards the place Eragon had fallen.
Eragon looked. Lying side by side were the dwarves. They looked like they could be sleeping peacefully, except for the arrows protruding from each of their chests. Eragon's stomach dropped. "I guess I'm not the only one who was hunting them," he whispered. Gently he wiped away the blood and stared at the dead couple.
As he was doing so, he felt Saphira's mind probe his consciousness, and recoil in surprise. What is it? He asked carefully.
The dwarves did inform you. Saphira looked thoughtfully at him with her bright sapphire eyes. Search your memories, and you will understand.
Eragon hesitated, and then he fell into deep thought. As he was thinking, he came across new memories that he didn't even know he had. It was a strange feeling. He saw dark, dangerous places, uniformed soldiers, and a dark man who he knew must be Galbatorix. "The dwarf gave me his memories." Eragon said aloud. As he was thinking, an image of something round, green, and incredibly important flashed across his mind.
Jumping up, he said a quick blessing over the two dwarves and ran to Saphira's side. They needed to move, and quickly. Eragon now knew the secret that could save all of Alagaesia.
Fly strong, Saphira. Eragon thought.
Saphira acknowledged, 'Tis true, it is a long way to the Beor Mountains. But… She trailed off, and a deafening roar filled the mountains, echoing off of the birds and trees that lived there. I am a great dragon! No great distance shall stop me.
Eragon grinned. Skillfully he strapped the leather saddle onto Saphira's back. For fifteen minutes he blundered around the forest, running around like a rabbit, looking for food of any kind. He picked up green leaves, juicy berries, ripe fruits, and fresh vegetables. There was no meat in the food that he packed- Saphira could hunt well enough on her own.
When he was ready, he climbed into Saphira's well worn saddle. His heart leaped with the joy of Saphira's companionship, but soon sunk when he remembered the secret the dwarves had entrusted to him. Could he keep it? Eragon knew he could sometimes be less than trustworthy.
Saphira's takeoff interrupted his negative thoughts. He admired her skill and strength as she maneuvered out of the Spine. Her mind probed his consciousness, sending him images to strengthen his resolve and give him courage. He couldn't ask for a better friend in the world.
Over the course of an hour, Saphira flew over large towns, desert lands, great rivers, and small mountains. As the scenery flew by, Eragon's mind turned inadvertently to Arya. He hadn't heard from her since the great battle with the Varden. Was she okay? What was she doing? His magic itched to scry her, to check on her. But that felt rude. Arya was another friend that he couldn't live without.
As Eragon was wrestling with the fact that he did not know how Arya, his other best friend was, the sun was setting in the west. He sensed Saphira's wings grow heavy, and her once effortless flying became difficult.
Gently Eragon whispered, "Let us rest now. You have done a great deal of magnificent flying today."
For a moment he felt Saphira's resistance, but not for long. Sheer exhaustion gave way to stubbornness, and Saphira alighted near a small river. She immediately commenced polishing her scales, one by one. A rather vain creature, Saphira took pride in her shining sapphire armor. As she cleaned herself, Eragon stared into the distance, thinking of the information that the dwarves had given him. Was it enough? Could he do what must be done? He didn't know, but it was worth the risk if the dwarves' information was correct.
After too many moments of agitated thinking, Eragon retired to bed. Saphira's wings kept him warm throughout the night, and he was comforted to know that there were certain people- or dragons- who would always be there for him, even through hard circumstances. Her comforting presence helped him to forget about his mission for a little while.
They rose before the sun. A quick breakfast of berries and cold stream water refreshed Eragon's spirits, and he and Saphira were very soon ready to leave. Excitement coursed through their veins, for they both knew what was ahead. Mountains, much taller than the highest peaks of the Spine, loomed ahead of them, ready to swallow a sapphire dragon whole. Their prize, the future of Alagaesia, lay inside one of the mountains.
Eragon and Saphira planned to sneak in alone, slipping past guards and traps to get to the prize. Neither had any idea how well protected it was, and the thought made Eragon nervous. Even so, he looked forward to the end of his lengthy assignment.
Wind whipped past Eragon's face, and his breath was, as usual, snatched from his lungs by the exhilaration of their takeoff. Flying with Saphira was unlike any other experience in the world. Momentarily, he felt bad for all others who did not have the opportunity of embracing the skies on the back of a powerful dragon. Humans, who said dragons were a thing of the past. Dwarves, who refused to leave their beloved earth and take to the skies. Elves that Saphira had not chosen.
I chose you for a reason, little one. Saphira's probing voice interrupted Eragon's thoughts.
What reason? I'm not ready for this.
Saphira chuckled, a deep, throaty laugh. Your insecurities keep you from who you could be.
Eragon protested, and Saphira, still laughing, slipped out of his mind. Even after, he couldn't stop thinking about what she had said. It was true- he had never been ready for any of this. Becoming a Rider had not been his choice, but Saphira had chosen him. He was sometimes apprehensive about his growing ability, but thinking of what he had once been gave him heart. He was much different than the young farm boy of his past life. Over the years he had become stronger, calmer, and wiser… though perhaps not yet wise.
Suddenly, like a flash of lightning, Saphira's voice was in his mind. Eragon! The enemy is upon us!
Those simple words sent adrenaline coursing through Eragon's veins. Deftly drawing his bow, Eragon searched the skies for any sign of a potential enemy. He saw nothing but empty air. Out of nowhere, pain zapped his arm, and he whipped around to see an arrow lodged in his flesh. He screamed a curse and wrenched the arrow out before it could do more damage.
"Saphira, where are they?" Eragon shouted into the wind.
Saphira's voice was surprisingly calm. They surround us. Remember Oromis' teachings. If you do not, we will surely die.
Eragon cursed again. Of course! He reached out with his mind and found the consciousness of three of Galbatorix's finest soldiers. Somehow they were following Eragon and Saphira as the two flew! Eragon delved further, and found that the sting of magic accompanied their minds. He soon realized that they were under a spell that allowed them to fly… and be invisible to mortal eyes.
Ignoring the growing pain in his arm and his growing dizziness, Eragon shot three arrows where he judged the enemy to be. Two missed, but one hit its mark, and the unseen enemy fell. Neither of the living soldiers shot back, but their stubborn intellect remained, steadily following him and Saphira as they raced through the mountains.
Out of nowhere, a deep voice echoed through the mountains over which they were flying. It growled, "Put away your weapon. If you do not- you, the dragon, and the elven princess will all die."
Startled, Eragon slowly put away his bow and dropped his arrows into the depths of the wild peaks. Saphira stopped racing over the mountains. She flapped her wings to remain suspended in midair, and they prepared for the worst.
They're talking about Arya. I have to rescue her!
Saphira's voice carried a hint of irony and a lot of sarcasm. So much for arriving unannounced.
Eragon laid a hand on Saphira's scaly neck to steady himself. His world was spinning. Taking a deep breath, Eragon shouted to the mountains, "What do you want from us?"
The answer came back in the same growling tone, short and simple.
"We want your lives."
Hours later, Eragon woke up in a dark cell. Before he reached out with his mind, he knew he was completely alone. Panicking, he tried to contact Saphira, but failed. Was she alive? What would they do to her? Did she think he was dead? Would he ever see her again? Would he die here, alone?
Eragon slumped down in a dirty corner of the cell. He had never felt so forlorn and isolated in all of his life. He was cold, weak, and he had no company at all. If he could see through the darkness of the cell, he was sure his world was still spinning.
Squinting, Eragon looked at his arm. He could barely make out its shape in the gloom. The cloth of his shirt was bloody where the arrow had pierced him, and it stung, but he was grateful it was the worst of the hurt.
Later in the day, a soldier pushed a plateful of food through a small flap in the door. If the flap in the door was small, the meal was even smaller, but still Eragon looked longingly at the meager meal. He had only eaten fruits and berries for breakfast, and it had been hours since then. Suspiciously, he peered at the cup of water. Over time, his eyes had adjusted to the lack of light. He could distinguish objects plainly. At first glance, it looked clear and pure, but looking closer, Eragon perceived a yellow liquid mixed with the water. Drugged. The food and water were both drugged.
Clenching his fists, Eragon resolved to refrain from eating or drinking. It was a terribly difficult decision, but he knew from previous experience what the enemy's prison drugs could do to the mind.
Eventually, from sheer exhaustion, he fell deeply asleep.
She ran through the halls, her long hair flying out behind her. In her pack was the secret of Alagaesia. She ran like a beautiful, hunted stag. Through corridor after corridor she flew, until she came to the door of a dark room. Stopping, she heard voices.
"Messenger has not come back. Search the building. Check the room."
"Does she have…"
"Silence! Nobody must hear that she has the egg…"
The elf woman ran, faster than she had run before. She looked pained, and she carried a satchel that she clutched as if it were her life. It was her life. It was the last dragon egg in all of Alagaesia.
Eragon jerked awake. It was true! They had Arya prisoner, but if his dream was accurate, she had escaped. Eragon rejoiced. He had been worried about her, for he knew her past experience in prison still haunted her. Then she had visited him in his dreams, calling for help. Eragon had followed his visions, saving her life.
Did she know he was held prisoner here, as well? Eragon didn't want to be rescued, but he had long since given up on finding a way out on his own. He was too weak without food and water. He had no magic at all. Could he still be drugged? Before he could finish his train of thought, Eragon found himself falling asleep once more.
"Eragon! Arise! We do not have time."
Eragon jumped up and tried to sift through his groggy thoughts. He had heard that voice before, but he couldn't think where.
"Blast it, Shadeslayer, get up!" The door opened and dim light flooded in. An irritated elven princess stared down at him in distaste. She ran over, yanked him to his feet, and without even a greeting, pulled him out the unbarred prison door.
Seeing Arya had jogged Eragon's memory. Now he knew who he was and where he was, but he had no idea where he was heading. Carefully he sorted through his thoughts as he sprinted with his companion down the passage. She had saved him. He knew that much. Why had he not been able to resist the drugs and spells? Arya was doing fine, although she looked more pained than usual. Why did they affect his ability to think so much?
"Your arm," Arya said, as if she had read Eragon's mind. "They shot you, and the arrow had a poison that slows down your brain and nervous system. That is why they shot you only once and did not continue the attack."
Eragon breathed a breath of relief. He wasn't as weak as he had thought. Gathering his still-scattered thoughts once more, he asked, "Where are we?" They were sprinting with superhuman speed through rough, dark, stone passageways, lighted only with the occasional torch.
Arya's eyes glowed with unrestrained fire. "We are in the tunnels of Galbatorix's secret lair. The Galbatorix that lives in the great city… is a fake!"
"A fake? What do you mean?"
"The 'Galbatorix' that we know is the son of the great rider. He does not have a dragon, but rather uses the fear of the people to spread rumors about himself. His father, the true Galbatorix, is sending soldiers after us this very moment!"
"How did you escape?"
She was silent for a moment, and then said, "I have learned a great many things since I was taken prisoner. They underestimated me, and did not guard my cell well enough. I overpowered them, stole their greatest treasure, and ran."
"What about Saphira? Do you know where she is held?"
Arya whipped around, stopped running, and trained a piercing gaze upon him. She spoke slowly. "You… do not know… the whereabouts of your own dragon?" A wide range of emotions played across her face. She looked furious, but also terrified.
Her fear infected Eragon. He stuttered. "I have not been able to contact her. She is either out of my reach, or…" Eragon refused to consider the alternative.
Arya's gaze softened as she looked on Eragon's worried face. "Do not worry. I know the way out. They would not have killed the last female of her kind. We shall leave this place, gather reinforcements, and rescue Saphira before they may do her any harm. Come with me."
Arya took Eragon's hand and turned to the right, into a hidden tunnel. The dark passageway was so small, Eragon would have missed it if Arya had not shown him. It was cramped and felt like it was made for dwarves, instead of elves or humans.
As they were hunched over, crawling through the tunnel, Arya's keen ears picked up the sounds of pursuit echoing behind them. Soon Eragon sensed the presence of a hundred angry soldiers. Arya said nothing, only walked faster and with even more urgency.
After what seemed like miles, the two came to the end of the cramped tunnel, finding only a flimsy rope ladder. It looked only strong enough to hold one person at a time. The echo of marching soldiers came closer.
Arya handed Eragon the precious satchel. "Take the egg and go!" Her face was wild, and again she looked like a hunted stag. She pushed him toward the ladder.
Finally, Eragon's mind was clear. He knew exactly what must be done. Without any more thought, he threw the egg towards the ladder, and Arya ran to catch it. She caught it, gazed at him for a moment, and then started climbing up towards her freedom.
Soon she was out of sight and Eragon was alone in the dark tunnel. The soldiers came closer. Eragon examined the delicate ladder, wondering if it was strong enough to hold his weight. Soon he didn't have any time left to wonder. The sound of marching warriors was growing close. They knew where he was, and would not let them escape. The only way to life was up, so he grabbed onto the ladder and began to climb faster than he had ever climbed before. Looking over his shoulder, he thought he discerned the red coats of Galbatorix's army. He climbed faster.
Eragon was almost out of sight when without warning, an arrow shot into his side. An involuntary scream parted his lips. Blood gushed from his body and sweat poured down his face. Even the slightest movement caused him excruciating pain. More arrows flew past, but none met their mark. He couldn't let Arya and Saphira down, so he tried... he kept climbing. Light shone down from the freedom of the surface, but he knew he couldn't reach it any longer. The pain was unbearable. He couldn't breathe. Suddenly, he knew he was going to die.
The soldiers stopped shooting. They knew he was going to die, too.
His focus lessened. He was not a dragon rider. He was dead.
Nobody dead can save the world.
He could see Brom again. Rejoin him in death.
Eragon almost smiled. And then he gave up on life and living.
Above him, Saphira roared a great and terrible roar. The soldiers fled in terror. Eragon thought he felt strong hands pull him out of the darkness and into a beautiful hillside. Could death be beautiful?
"Stay with us, Eragon," a soft voice chanted, "stay with us."
He was not dead. He was in pain- agonizing, unbearable pain. Was it worth living? Eragon opened his eyes to see Arya cleaning his wound, and Saphira watching with concern. She had not been captured. Yes, it was worth the pain to be alive.
"Waise heill!" Arya whispered. Magic flowed into Eragon's wound, stitching skin and muscles together, making him whole. He had not died.
Testing his lungs, Eragon took a deep breath of fresh mountain air. Marvelously, they still worked. He looked up at Arya, who looked more joyful than he had ever seen her. He couldn't figure out why, until something curiously nudged Eragon's cheek. Slowly, he turned his head to see a small, beautiful green creature peering at him. Was he hallucinating? It looked like…
"A dragon." Delight shone on Arya's face. She sat on her knees and stared at the new marvel. "He hatched for me. His name is Edoc'sil. I am a rider." She smiled down at Eragon through a haze of joyful tears. "We are riders."