I am so sorry about how long this took but I was at a horse show for the last two weeks and didn't have a computer just my phone...I really want to hear from you about this chapter because I did a bit of a plot change and I'm not sure how it's going to work out. So let me know and I hope you enjoy the latest chapter in this story! :)

Saphira drifted down to an open, grassy clearing about fifteen miles from the outskirts of Gil'ead. The blue dragon landed on the crest of a hill, and rested her outstretched wings on the ground; she was shaking with the effort of carrying all of us and the pain from her arrow wound.

Snowfire, Tornac, Melynlas and Cadoc were all picketed on the edge of clearing. Despite being used to Saphira and her landings, the horses snorted nervously and danced at the end of their tethers. Eragon slipped off Saphira and Brom passed him Arya before climbing down himself. I took a deep breath and sort of slid/fell off Saphira's side; I stumbled when I touched the ground and would have fallen had Murtagh not steadied me with a firm grip only elbow. I nodded in thanks and Murtagh asked gently, "Would you like to sit down?"

"No, I'm fine," I lied. My head was spinning and my ribs hurt, but I was tired of being weak and injured. Murtagh frowned but before he could say anything I pulled my arm from his grip and walked towards the horses.

I was anxious to see my mare again and make sure she had not been injured during the clash with the Urgals and soldiers. When I reached her I rested my head against her warm neck, enjoying the familiar warmth and smell. Melynlas gave a quiet nicker and gently nuzzled my shoulder. I smiled and said softly, "I missed you." My mare snorted and I twisted my hands tightly in her black mane; simply glad to be back with my mare who had been a faithful companion for many miles. Murtagh was standing beside Tornac, quickly readying him and the other the horses for travel while Eragon quickly checked Saphira over for injuries. Brom knelt beside Arya and I saw the glint of a glass vile in his hand. He must just have given her antidote to the poison.

It was then that Eragon called Murtagh over and I watched as both he and Eragon prepared to remove the arrow that was deeply embedded in Saphira's wing. The sudden pain from the removal of the arrow caused Saphira to jerk her wing wildly. The sudden movement clipped Murtagh in the chin; knocking him to the ground.

With a growl, Saphira shook the tree she had been holding in her mouth, spraying everyone within ten feet with dirt before throwing it away. Murtagh rubbed his bruised chin before returning to the horses.

"Are you alright?" I asked.

Murtagh shrugged and said, "Yes, she just caught me by surprise." I nodded and turned to check Melynlas's girth, but before I could prepare to mount, I felt a firm hand grip my shoulder. I turned and came face to face with Brom. His face had returned to normal and he was smiling kindly at me. I groaned inwardly, I knew what was coming.

"You cannot ride with us Zoe. Until I have a chance to examine your injuries, you should ride Saphira." His voice, while gentle, was firm and unyielding. I sighed in annoyance but I knew that Brom was right. I could not ride at the pace we needed to with my ribs and the after effects of the drug. I glanced over at my other two companions and saw identical expressions of relief and worry. A little bit of annoyance rose inside of me; did they think I would be so selfish as to argue with them right now about whether or not I could ride my mare?

I made my way over to Saphira who was waiting for me with Arya, who was still unconscious but already strapped to the saddle. Saphira and Eragon spoke privately for a minute before the azure dragon turned her head to look at me. I smiled and rested my hand on her warm side, sending a greeting to her through my mind.

Saphira responded to my greeting with one of her own. Her deep voice was gentle and it rumbled through my mind like thunder, I am glad to have you back Zoe. I missed you.

I missed you to Saphira. You have no idea how happy I am to back with all of you. The dragon nodded her head and I scrambled up into the saddle. Arya was in front of me and I quickly strapped my legs into the saddle. Once I was ready Saphira shook her wings and prepared to take off.

Do you know the feeling of a jet taking off? The bumps and then the sudden gain in altitude as the ground drops away and you are surrounded by nothing but air? That is how it feels when a dragon takes off only it isn't as smooth and there is no flight attendant telling you how to get out of the aircraft in an emergency. I bent my head as the wind whistled past me, it made my eyes water and I drew my cloak tighter to try and guard against the chill.

Eragon, Murtagh and Brom were lost in the shadows within a few seconds and when I looked back towards Gil'ead I saw the lights of search parties. The Empire was wasting no time in trying to find us. Soon they would have our trail and it would take everything we had to stay ahead of them but I was too tired to worry about it. I rested my head on Arya's back and closed my eyes; I was asleep within seconds.

I had to be dreaming. I knew I was, but it felt so real, so undeniably real. I was standing in the middle of a bright, high ceilinged room. My ribs no longer hurt and neither did I feel light headed or dizzy but rather as if I had just had a refreshing night's sleep. I still wore my bloodstained, dirty clothing and my weapons were still with me. I felt terribly out of place in the immaculate white marble room. In the centre of the Hall was a raised dais on which stood two golden thrones and beside them were four smaller thrones; two on each side of the larger ones. The thrones were empty but the sound of echoing footsteps made me turn and look behind me. At the far end of the Hall were two great golden doors carved with scenes of battles and landscapes. They were very beautiful and I instinctively knew that I would not be able to open them, but, that was not what held my attention for long. Walking towards me was a man. No, not a man but a teenager.

He was handsome, about my age, maybe a year or two older and he walked with a kind of purposeful determination that spoke of inner confidence. His hair was a similar color to my own and so were his eyes. He wore black clothes, similar to my own, and his weapons, I noticed with surprise, were of similar design as mine. Whoever he was he looked like a leader, someone who trusted themselves and their judgment without question. The kind of person you could always trust and rely on in a sticky situation.

A name rose unbidden to my lips and I said softly, almost not really knowing why I said it, "Eomund?" Memories danced on the edges of my thoughts, almost within reach but not quite.

A smile broke out across his face. When he smiled the serious, almost sad look left his face and his dark eyes shone with light and joy. I could not help but smile back and in three steps Eomund was in front of me. He was a good three or four inches taller then me and, as I looked up into his face, I had that disconcerting feeling of knowing someone but not really remembering how or where we had met. The feeling one gets when someone who remembers you says 'hello' and you can't, for the life of you, remember who they are or how you met them.

Eomund raised one hand to my face, gently cupping my cheek with his hand as if he wanted to reassure himself that it really was me and I wasn't going to disappear like a mirage. His hand was a roughed and calloused from fighting but it was also warm and comforting. We stood silent looking at each other for a few minutes until Eomund said softly, "I've missed you Zoe." His voice was strained as if he was struggling to keep his composure in front of me.

I did not know what to say. What do you say when faced with that kind of situation? The logical part of me told me that I should ask not only who Eomund was, but where I was. The room felt real enough but, that did not mean it was. Was this a dream? Or was it a memory? Maybe Eomund wasn't a real person, just a figment of my imagination caused by exhaustion or the lingering effects of the drug.

I opened my mouth to speak but Eomund cut me off. His voice was urgent, as if he had very little time and a great deal to tell me. "I know you have many questions and I want to answer them for you but there is no time for that. Not now, at least. We will speak again soon but until then you must return to Alagaesia. Before you can however, you must know something." Here he paused and seemed to steel himself - as if what he was about to tell me was very difficult for him. Eomund continued on, though slower this time, and his eyes never left mine, "When you were in prison Durza didn't just give you a drug. After his visit to you he returned a little while later and gave you a rare and deadly poison. The same poison that he gave to Arya."

I was shocked, horrified more like it. I managed to find my voice, though it came out higher then usual, "You mean that Durza gave me Skilna Bragh?" My mind raced through all the consequences; there was no antidote close at hand and the antidote I had told Murtagh to get had already been used on Arya. I was dead. I would never get home, never see my family and never know the truth about my past. Officially and completely dead.

Eomund nodded and I saw that he was more than worried for me, he was terrified. How well did he know me? He acted like he was my older brother and I was his darling younger sister. However, I had bigger problems then wondering about what Eomund's relationship was with me.

"Yes. Now listen carefully Zoe." I raised my eyebrows, listen carefully? What did he think I was doing? Eomund continued, ignoring me, "The only way to slow the poison is to go into a deep dreamless state. You are lucky because Durza did not give you the full dosage, he gave you enough that if you did escape you would still die but within a couple of days not hours."

My head was spinning with all this information, "Just a second. How can I go into a deep dreamless state that only elves are supposed to be able to go to? And exactly where am I? What is going on?"

Eomund bit his lower lip and said, "There isn't time to explain everything Zoe. However, aren't you beginning to realize that you are more than some human girl? You aren't an elf, but neither are you just an ordinary human. Once you leave here you can either choose to go into a
dreamless state or awaken. However, the more time you spend awake the faster the poison will act. You have to slow the effects or else your companions will not be able to help you."

I was about to ask for more details, in fact, I was ready to demand more but before I could, the room began to fade like dreams do when you are about to awaken. Eomund raised his eyes to look at ceiling and then he dropped his hand to my shoulder which he squeezed tightly. "You must go," Eomund said, "I promise we will see each other soon Zoe. Very soon and then I will be able to explain more but for now we must part. Fare thee well and please, don't lose hope."

I opened my mouth to speak, but I did not have the chance to say or do anything because I was suddenly falling into a swirling pool of blackness. Eomund and the throne room were gone and my last conscious thought was, was that real? Deep, comforting darkness surrounded me and I relinquished myself to a dreamless state of mind in which I was nothing; lost in a sea of blackness and memories that swirled around me. Time no longer mattered, for what is time to someone who is cut off from everything?

They had traveled through the night, not stopping even when their flagging strength began to slow them. Behind them, lines of torch-bearing horsemen searched around Gil'ead for their trail. Not, thought Brom with some satisfaction, that they will find it. He had made sure to destroy any signs of their trail with magic and had been doing the same as they rode. With a little luck, they would discourage the soldiers who would assume they had flown away on Saphira. He knew it was dangerous to use Aren's power but if this was not an emergency situation then what was?

After many bleary hours, dawn lightened the sky. By unspoken consent the three riders stopped the horses. "We have to make camp," said Eragon wearily. "I must sleep - whether they catch us or not." The Rider was feeling the effects of his enforced fast, the drug and then the magic he had used during the escape. He had to rest soon or he would fall off his horse.

"Agreed," said Brom and Murtagh at the same time. Brom glanced up at the sky, looking for Saphira but saw nothing but the inky blackness. Turning to Eragon he asked, "Will you ask Saphira to land? We can meet her at a campsite of her choosing." Brom was worried not only for Arya but the pale faced Zoe who had been unable to walk out of her cell. The idea of her under Durza had terrified him just as much as thinking of Eragon in those cells had. He would not be able to rest easy until he made sure that she was alright and safely back on her mare, laughing and joining in Eragon's lessons.

They followed Saphira's directions and found her drinking from a stream at the base of a small cliff; both Zoe and Arya were still on her back. Saphira greeted all of them with a soft bugle and both Eragon and Brom dismounted and went to her while Murtagh picketed the horses and set up camp.

Before either Brom or Eragon could say or do anything Saphira lowered her head and said, Zoe fell asleep some time during the flight but it is an unnatural sleep. I worry that there is something wrong.

Brom fought the rising panic as he climbed up to the saddle. Sure enough, Zoe was slumped against Arya's back and her face was as pale as white marble. If he had not immediately checked for a pulse he would have thought she was dead, but there was a beat, however faintly.

"Saphira says Zoe is unconscious." Brom looked down and saw Eragon looking up at him, his face worried. Brom nodded, not trusting that his voice would be calm enough to speak. As quickly as he could, Brom undid the straps before lowering Zoe to Eragon who passed her to Murtagh. Brom then passed Arya to Eragon before joining the others at the base of the cliff. Saphira rested her head beside Eragon, and the Rider absently stroked her head.

While the others tried to regain a little of their strength, the old story teller was watching the unmoving figure of Zoe. What had happened to send her to this deep, almost trance like sleep? It was not unlike the sleep that elves sometimes used. Murtagh was the first to break the silence and when he did his voice was worried.

"What is wrong with Zoe? What about Arya? We can't stay here long, but I fear that both of them will need extensive healing." Brom was forced to admit that Murtagh had a point. The longer they remained in once place the closer the soldiers got to them.

In as calm a voice as he could muster, Brom said, "Murtagh, will you make some dinner? We would all think better with full stomachs. Don't worry about the smoke, I will deal with it using magic and the soldiers won't be able to see it." Murtagh looked reluctant but did as Brom asked, continuing on Brom said, "Eragon, I want you to help me see to Arya and Zoe."

Eragon moved over to where Arya and Zoe lay and Brom joined him. With deft movements Brom slipped Zoe's weapons off and placed them beside the unconscious girl. He slipped off her leather over jacket and raised the thin white shirt she wore beneath it. The sight of her badly bruised chest made the old Rider suck in his breath with anger, while Eragon gasped in horror. Zoe's chest was one massive bruise; from what Brom could see at least three of Zoe's ribs were broken and another two cracked. A quick feel of the bones confirmed what he had first seen. The injury, however, did not answer why Zoe was unconscious.

Thinking out loud Brom said, "Broken ribs do not cause someone to fall into this kind of trance. Did Zoe say if she was given anything in prison Murtagh?"

Murtagh raised his head and met Brom's eyes, "Yes. She said Durza gave her a drug. Do you think there is more to it?" Brom did think there was. In fact, he was beginning to think the situation was far graver then ever before. Somewhere a little voice seemed to whisper, Durza gave her some Skilna Bragh; enough to kill her if in a few days if she did escape. Deep down, Brom knew that that little voice was right and that they had no antidote to save Zoe. That little voice had saved him before, it had guided him when he was in situations like this one and it had never been wrong. Call it intuition or something else but Brom was eternally grateful for its help and the warnings it had given him.

Looking back at Zoe's immobile, beautiful face he said, "I have only seen elves fall into a sleep like this. I think Zoe did this on purpose to slow the progress of a poison. The same poison that Durza gave to Arya. Though he gave Zoe less - just enough to kill her if she remained conscious within a few days of travel. Zoe must have realized what he did and fell into the trance, though why she told no one of the poison is a mystery to me."

Silence fell, horrified silence as all present digested just what Brom had said. Murtagh found his voice first, and said in a strangled whisper, "You already gave the antidote to Arya. Where can we find some more?" Murtagh's thoughts raced as he came to terms with what Brom had just said. Why had she not told him or Eragon or Saphira or Brom the moment they found her? Or had she known then? Surely Durza would have told her if only to destroy any hope she had of escaping? Murtagh clenched his jaw; when Druza returned he would make sure to destroy the Shade as painfully as possible. He would just have to beat a long list of people to it.

Brom closed his eyes and said, "The only ones with the antidote are the elves and the Varden. I do not know how long Zoe can remain in this trance but she would not have more than a few weeks." Brom opened his eyes and saw a glint of determination enter Saphira, Eragon and Murtagh's eyes.

Saphira said, Then we must make haste and take her to the Varden. The dragon was fiercely determined to save the girl that had helped them so often since they had first met her. Saphira would not let the person who had become one of her greatest friends die just because they were not willing to push themselves to the limit of their endurance. If she had to, she, Saphira, last female dragon in Alagaesia, would fly Zoe all the way to the Varden or the elves without stopping.

"Yes," said Eragon determinedly, his voice steely, "Zoe's done so much for us we can't do anything but try our hardest to get her the antidote."

Brom glanced at Murtagh and saw how tight his jaw was and the glint of fierce determination in his dark eyes. It was the same look that Morzan had worn when faced with a challenge, and now to see it on his son's face filled Brom with a mix of emotions. In some ways he welcomed the kind of single minded intensity that had been a trademark of Morzan, but he also worried that it would lead Murtagh down the same bloody path as his father. Not, thought Brom, if I can help it. He had come to see Murtagh in an almost fatherly way and he was determined not fail the boy as he had failed Selena. Murtagh would never become his father, not as long as he, Brom, was around. Pushing those thoughts away he turned his attention again to Zoe and Arya, both of who still needed healing, or at least as much healing as he and Eragon could give them. "Come Eragon," said Brom as he placed his hand on Zoe's broken ribs, "You must help me heal her broken bones and then we will have to help Arya. We must hurry."

After tending to Zoe, they turned their attention to the battered elf. The sight of Arya's numerous bruises, cuts, burns, whip lashes and scars filled all of them with anger and horror, even Brom, who had seen much of this kind of cruelty, still found it to be utterly shocking. While both he and Eragon worked quickly and efficiently, sometimes borrowing Saphira's energy when they became very tired, it still took them many hours before they had completed their work. With the idea of preserving as much energy as they could, both Brom and Eragon had passed over injuries that were non life threatening, instead focusing their efforts on ones that were. Murtagh watched from the small camp fire, occasionally offering Brom and Eragon food when they took a respite, but otherwise his thoughts were trained on the unmoving Zoe, as if by thinking of her constantly, he could somehow slow the poison spreading through her body.

At long last, Brom rose from his position beside Arya and rubbed his aching temples. Eragon rose as well, trembling from the effort of the magic. "Is it done?" asked Murtagh. He was anxious to be gone and he could not deny that he resented Arya a little bit. It was because of her that they had come to Gil'ead and that had lead to Zoe's capture which had then caused this mess. If they had not come to Gil'ead, Zoe would not be dying from a rare poison. It was not fair of him and he knew it, but he wanted to blame something or someone for this mess and Arya just so happened to be the perfect excuse.

Eragon nodded, "Yes."

"Will she live?"

Brom sighed tiredly and said, "She will need to sleep for a few days but elves heal remarkably fast. I wouldn't be surprised if she is conscious by tomorrow morning."

"We'd better start riding," said Eragon glancing up at the bright blue sky. Murtagh nodded and quickly readied the horses while Brom and Eragon lifted Arya and Zoe onto Saphira. With any traces of their camp destroyed, whether by hand or with magic, they departed. Tired eyes fixed firmly on the distant horizon and all their hopes thrown onto the slim chance of making it to the Varden before it was too late.