Awake Eragon. Awake! It is time we should leave!

Eragon gasped as his waking dreams slipped away and consciousness replaced them. Saphira's head was angled above him, her right eye peering at him urgently.

You are almost impossible to wake sometimes, little one. I was close to biting you and shaking you like a sheep. The sun has been risen some time, and we must be off. I expected you or Arya would wake me, but I awoke of my own accord to find you both sleeping so deep it could be mistaken for hibernation.

He chuckled as he pushed her away from him, his hand on her jaw, and sat up. He stretched and stood, walking over to where Arya lay and peering at her. Smiling, he clicked his fingers in front of her face, only for her to not even flinch.

He risked prodding her cheek, and instantly her arm shot up, her hand grasping tightly round his throat and her eyes opening almost unnaturally wide as she threw her weight forwards, slamming him to the ground in a lightning-quick exchange of positions.

On the other side of the clearing, Saphira raised her head, snorted in amusement, and went back to rubbing her snout on her foreleg.

Arya released his throat rather jerkily, and stood back from him, now offering her hand to lift him up.

"Never wake me like that again." She muttered as he thanked her for lifting him up. "I have grown paranoid in the past few weeks…"

Eragon coughed and rubbed at his throat, prompting a slight silence from Arya, before she apologised seemingly as if she'd only just remembered it was courtesy to do so after hurting someone accidentally.

She turned away from him towards Saphira's saddlebags, then suddenly froze, her chest rising from an intake of breath. Her hand shot to her hip and she doubled over at the waist, her other hand pressed against her forehead.

"Arya! Arya!" spoke Eragon, urgently. "Are you alright."

Slowly she sunk to her knees and crouched in the damp grass, breathing rapidly. He approached her and laid a comforting hand gently on her shoulder.

"I am fine, Eragon. Please, put Saphira's saddle on, I'll be fine. I just need to rest a bit more… I'm a little dizzy." She finished, and with that vomited slightly. He didn't leave her side, and instead regarded her with wary eyes until she made contact with them. He was surprised, then, when she gently pushed him away, and stood back up again.

"It is over. Whatever is was… I was hungry but no longer, which is hardly surprising." She muttered, with a wry smile, as she continued to Saphira's saddlebags and began to heft them onto the dragon's back. Eragon helped secure the saddle and their supplies to Saphira, used magic to douse the embers of the previous night's campfire, and accepted Arya's outstretched hand to lift him onto their mounts back.

Saphira crouched in anticipation, then pounced like a cat, only bringing her wings down when it looked like she was about to crash back into the trees.

Lifting her great body and her luggage into the air, she growled happily.

It is warm and there is only a slight breeze. Today is perfect weather for flying. You should share it with me, little one.

Eragon smiled and let his mind merge with hers, their vision and touch becoming as one until it was his wings that drove them onwards, and his eyes that saw the startled villagers of the town they'd noticed last night look up and shout.

"It's Shadeslayer! Kingkiller!" Cried a man.

"Look at the size of that dragon!" Gasped a surprised woman, as her 2 startled children looked up into the sky, eyes wide and startled. With Saphira's superior vision, he could make out almost every strand of hair on their heads, the movement of their pupils as their eyes tracked the dragon through the sky. The depth of Saphira's vision was amazing.

"Bah, nothin' but a traitor to his own kind an' a fancy magic-using bastard. In 20 years time, I bet it'll be 'im on the throne, opressin' us. They're all the same, these Elves and Sorcerers and Magicians, just you see. At least Galbatorix kept the Urgals from runnin' rampant over our land, now e's gone and sided with them too…" Muttered a rather elderly man, who barely looked up from a basket he was weaving before continuing on his rant. Some of the other villagers rolled their eyes and ignored him, while others seemed to agree.

It made Eragon feel uneasy. If the people didn't trust in him, didn't trust that he was happy to leave well alone, and didn't trust in the strength of Nasuada's leadership, there could be troubling times ahead.

Before he could think much more on the subject, however, the town was long gone behind them, a breeze from the south powering Saphira forwards and enhancing her progress.

As they approached Gil'ead and the lake Isenstar the terrain grew lusher and the hills and valleys became thick forests along the river, giving way to plains and farmland with small villages a few leagues behind. Saphira had dominant control over her vision, and it amazed Eragon how much her eyes darted around during flight, seemingly on a constant instinctual hunt for prey. She couldn't resist noticing every deer in the woods, ever wild sheep or goat or oxen near the river, even rabbits and small birds didn't escape her gaze.

They passed over Isenstar, which was almost twice as long as Palancar valley and a good 4 times as wide, and Eragon was transfixed by the ripples and waves created by the gusts over the surface. Peaks and troughs of water and foamy white crests adorning a dark and seemingly bottomless mass of water, a sea trapped by the land.

Soon the flickering of Saphira's eyes across the turbulent water, combined with her movements in the air, began to make him feel queasy with a combination of sea and air sickness, forcing him to return to his own body.

He blinked at the sudden change in colour and light as his eyes became his own again, and became aware of just how long his body had been frozen in an entranced state while he flew with Saphira. His legs ached where the straps held him to the saddle, his face was cold and lips chapped by the chill wind, and his back had a pressure on it which, upon further inspection, turned out to be Arya, who seemed to have fallen asleep pressed heavily against his back.

He blushed at the feeling of her body pressed so hard against his, but Saphira was more concerned with her state.

She's slept a lot, and she's eaten nothing today. Make sure she eats something, even if you have to force her. I don't like this… she has good days and bad days, but I still get the feeling that the more time passes the less of her we seem to have left. She is important to the future of this land. Take good care of her, little one…

Don't worry Saphira, you know that I'm doing everything I can. We both are, that's why were here and going where we are going.

Indeed, but will it be enough? I suppose only time will tell. Look, we are passing over the fringes of Du Weldenvarden. We should be able to see the coast soon.

Indeed Eragon saw that they were passing over the very western edge of the great forest, with its huge bulk flowing as far as the eye could see (and hundreds of leagues further) to the right, giving way to plains just on their left. Ahead the treeline also curved and diminished, and Eragon knew that between the edge of the forest there was only a short distance further, maybe an hour at most on dragonback, before they reached the frigid northern bay and Ceunon which rested precariously on the edge of humanity.

There, just maybe, they would discover the identity of this man who had seemed dead. Who's body had vanished and who had sprung back to life weeks of travel by foot away, only to steal trinkets from a magical emporium.

Maybe, if they could find out who he was and what he wanted, they could help Arya.

He twisted slightly to see her face rested against the back of his shoulder, her eyes open and unseeing, and her face worryingly pale.

There was still time for them to find a cure, surely.

That was, if a cure existed.