Chapter Seven

Readings

Angela sat down across from Nasuada, shuffling the deck of tarot cards before her. "These are hardly as fool-proof as they are said to be," the witch was murmuring, more to herself than the ruler. "Some of the cards are vague; they could say that you have a dark cloud hanging round you, which could mean a million different things. Just remember – the first thing that comes to your mind will most likely be the correct one."

Solembum snuck in through the tent flap, softly traipsing over to Nasuada on silent paws. The werecat sniffed at her hand, much as a real cat would, before feigning disinterest and slinking over to Angela.

Nasuada closed her eyes, nerves making her anxious, as Angela began to lay the cards out, faces down. Nasuada heard the scrape of the first card being turned over and flinched, whetting her cracked lips.

"Star," Angela murmured softly, voice seeming to drop an octave. "It stands for faith – both in yourself and those around you. Once you trust yourself, your belief will be able to support you through most anything."

That wasn't so difficult to understand, Nasuada thought, swirling images of the coming battles going through her mind. My belief in myself will help me cope.

"The Empress," Angela continued with the next card. "A symbol of life, creation, fertility. You have the ability to shape lives around you and to create a beautiful world.

"Queen of Cups – powerful insight and foresight. She is mirror-like, reflecting her feelings and the things she sees coming in the future. Yet sometimes her face is clouded and her meanings unclear until the end."

"I am the Queen of Cups?" Nasuada asked with a confused expression. She had no foresight whatsoever!

"Either that," Angela began coyly with a smile, "or someone close to you is." She glanced back down at her cards, turning the next one over. "Oh, I see a Hanged Man in your life… the hanged man signifies the ability to admit fear and gain immense courage from it."

"I am afraid," Nasuada whispered, closing her eyes. "So where is my courage?"

Angela continued on as if the ruler had not said anything. She flipped over the next card, but her hand stiffened when the face was up and staring at her. "Oh dear."

"What?" Nasuada asked quickly, glancing at the card. She couldn't understand what was so bad about it.

"One of the worst cards to see in a reading," Angela murmured, looking wary. "The Five of Cups. Sadness; grief; disappointment; regret. This is a warning to you, Varden," Angela added, her cheery voice dropping to one of seriousness. "Tread carefully! This is not a card of hardships you are currently facing, but those you will come upon if you do not change your ways in time."

"What ways?" Nasuada asked, eyes wide.

Angela leaned back, shaking her head. "That, my dear, I do not know." She flipped over the next card, slowly, and let out a little breath. "This is a card symbolizing someone close to you. The Four of Swords – there will be a time, very soon, for mental clarity and serenity for this person. This peace will affect everyone for the better; including yourself.

"And finally," she murmured, sounding exhausted as she turned the last card over, "The Seven of Wands… it means that the time of fear has come… and you must fear, but in that fear you will find your courage."

Nasuada was shaking at the end of the reading. There was so much terror, so much hatred and sadness coming. She met Angela's eyes and managed to say with a clear voice, "Angela… I will do whatever I can to lead the Varden though these troubling times."

Angela's face split into a smile and Solembum flipped his tail back and forth. The werecat glanced up at her and purred, There, my ruler, is your courage.

Saphira found Eragon after close to ten minutes of hard flying. He had run quite a distance; farther, perhaps, then even an elf could have done in the same time period. She had almost missed him, however; he had curled himself into a tiny ball, his tan leathers making him appear very much like a sandstone rock.

Saphira landed a safe distance from the unmoving Rider. Yet even from twenty yards away, she could feel his pain radiating off of him, could almost taste it at the back of her throat.

Eragon, she began softly, taking a small step closer, testing the waters.

Stay back! He lashed out, a sudden flare of anger entering his voice. Don't come near me!

Saphira lowered herself to the ground, struggling to keep her voice free of pity. That would only enrage the boy even more. Eragon, I will lay right here until you allow me to come closer. I will wait here for as long as I need to.

An hour passed in silence between the two before Eragon stirred. …Saphira?

She was at his side in an instant. I am here, little one.

Why does she choose to torment me so? He asked, crawling to her side and burying his face against the warmth of her flank. I apologized for the Blood Oath ceremony, and yet… yet she maliciously flaunts all I cannot have while pretending to be my friend!

Calm yourself, little one, she cooed gently, folding her wing over him. He was suddenly ensnared in a warm hibernaculum, pressed against her tender under-belly and membranous wing. The feeling calmed Eragon, made him feel secure - loved. His breathing slowed and Saphira nodded sagely.

Now, the wise dragon began, listen to me for a moment, Eragon. Arya is under quite a bit of stress, as well. She sees you, struggling against these emotions raging within you, and she feels terrible for it. She has her own longings that she suppresses, Eragon, but she has no one to share them with, unlike you. They are eating her alive inside. She is not so wise as to know how to tend a broken heart or to hide emotions without repercussion.

What she did with you was not to tempt, tease, or torment. Her intentions were innocent, though ill thought out. She only meant to bind your friendship, which has suffered greatly in the past few months. She did not mean to scare you.

Eragon closed his eyes and moved closer to Saphira. Saphira… I love her. I have tried to stop myself, tried to distract my thoughts with other women… but it's impossible. The touch of her hands, her scent… it all bewitches me.

I know, my dear heart, she murmured, a piece of her dying with every moment Eragon suffered through sadness. All I can do is to beg you remain patient. Give Arya a chance to win your trust back.

I do trust-

No, you don't, Saphira argued calmly. Your reaction to her today proved that. No, Eragon, you two must build another foundation for your friendship to rest on. A stronger one. Until you two do this, nothing will change.

Eragon was silent for a long moment before whispering aloud, "Saphira, I felt it again. The pleasure in feeling another's pain. The hatred… Oh gods, Saphira, I hated Arya. I wanted to hurt her for a split second. Saphira, it's beginning to take over. I think I'm going crazy."

Nonsense, Saphira reasoned reassuringly. Yet a part of her couldn't help feeling alarmed at his words. Something terrible was happening. A cold dread took root within her, making her shiver. What if Eragon did become the next Galbatorix? Saphira was quick to push the thought aside, however. Never.

Closing her eyes, Saphira said the only words her aching heart could form. Love keeps us all sane, Eragon. As long as there is love in your heart, and you truly see things in life worth protecting, then you will remain a good person.

But… what if? What if I do become like him in the end?

Saphira lifted her wing and nuzzled Eragon's face with her snout. Whatever happens, Eragon, I am always on your side.

Arya sat down heavily in the dirt, crossing her legs. The fire sitting before her had all but diminished into a pile of smoldering logs. Feeling restless, she glanced into the remains and whispered, "Brisingr." The fire flared, the orange flames tinged green as they rose to into the air.

"Quite impressive," a deep voice rumbled behind her.

Arya glanced over her shoulder, feeling a sad smile slowly stretch across her face. "Orik. It seems I haven't seen you in ages. Sit with me?"

The little dwarf came to her side, plopping down in the dirt. There were ghosts of tears on his cheeks and Arya was reminded how hard he had taken Hrothgar's passing. Who was she to be worrying about her love life – or lack thereof– when there were so many other things to be focusing on?

"It won't be long until we reach Farthen Dur," Orik murmured, scraping at the dirt edgily. "Do you think the funeral will be to his liking?"

Arya forced another smile. "Hrothgar would have been pleased for a soldier's burial, as long as his closest friends and companions were among him."

Orik nodded, dwelling on her words for longer than she had anticipated. After a few moments, however, a grin covered his face and he turned to Arya. "So, have you and Eragon patched thing up yet?"

Arya sighed, shaking her head. "Oh not you, too. I have been given the fourth degree from just about everyone today… and what about? Eragon."

Orik chuckled, patting her hand with his. "Elf, you amuse me to no end. Why would that be, do you think? Perhaps everyone else can see through your flimsy façade and knows you want him as much as he wants you."

Arya's eyes widened at his words. "Orik!" she exclaimed in a shocked undertone. "What are you implying?"

"No need to act pure and innocent," Orik laughed as he stood. "But think on this. You say that you will not allow a foolish relationship during a war. But what if one of you dies during this war and is lost forever? Isn't it better to lose a love after knowing its wonders instead of questioning yourself daily about, 'What if?'" He fondly patted her shoulder again before murmuring, "Think on it, Arya. That is all I ask."