Eragon groggily opened his eyes. His body ached and felt numb, and his mobility was restricted by something he knew not what it was. All what he could feel was that his arms were stretched sideways, and that cold bindings were wrapped around his wrists, allowing him no possible movements. A fly kept flying around, its irritating buzz making this peculiar occurrence even more unpleasant. Suddenly, the buzz stopped.
With a shook of his head, Eragon swayed the fly from his nose and sneezed. A voice suddenly summoned his attention.
"Eragon, are you alright?" Arya asked, concern embed in her voice.
"No," he replied curtly. "How could I possibly black out in an instant? All I remember is that I went searching for you in the forest, and then…"
He suddenly paused, an eerie silence following. After the battle of Feinster, Arya gave in to her sorrow and secluded herself from the Varden, seeking comfort in something she was used from her early days: Solitude in the middle of the forest. While Saphira was hunting, Eragon sneaked past his elven guards and went searching for her, feeling responsible for her grief and sorrow. After all, they were friends, and he loathed the thought of abandoning her in such dire moment.
As he looked towards her frail form, he realized that this dark, damp place was smaller than he first thought. A single torch burned lazily, its flame illuminating a massive door that resembled one of those doors located in a dungeon. The similarity immediately struck him: He was in a dungeon, somewhere! But who was his captor?
"I…I can't access my magic," Arya interrupted.
Eragon's panic began to rise when he tried to do it, but all he met was emptiness, like he was the simple peasant that was not bonded to Saphira.
Saphira… he tried to touch her mind, but he found it impossible to do so. Even their bond was reduced to a mere flicker, as he could not possibly probe her mind or even feel a tinge of concern spreading through their link.
"What is this place? Why are we here? And how long were you awake?" Eragon asked on a slightly hard tone, his breath rate accelerated.
Arya, who was shacked right in front of him, the same way as him, looked into his eyes thoughtfully and responded, "Your sneeze roused me from my slumber, actually?" Eragon chuckled and she smiled, but positive emotions had no place in here, and they quickly dissipated.
"Eragon, I could only feel a massive force crushing against my mind, and then…" her voice trailed off unexpectedly.
"It doesn't matter. If anything, it is I who is to be blamed, for I haven't done what a friend was supposed to. My recent grief for my masters turned me into a coward, when I should have put you and Saphira above my feelings."
"Eragon, it's not your fault!" Arya cut in gravely, surprising even Eragon. "I bear the same guilt."
"Fate seems to have a strange way to bring people together…" Eragon smiled wryly while he berated himself into his mind for being so reckless.
"And that's why we will overcome this obstacle," Arya concluded.
Suddenly, the massive door creaked, metal gritting against the solid stone.
"Make yourselves comfortable. It won't be long until the King and that weakling of a Rider return with your dragon. Consider that her last hunt while being free," a medium stature man said, cackling for a moment before exiting, shutting the door behind.