Roran, Katrina, and Saphira returned three days later, reporting that the last of the Ra'zac was nowhere to be found. Katrina was deathly pale and weak, unable to stand for herself. Eragon had healed and strengthened her as well as he could, but the effect was quickly wearing off, especially since there was little protection from the elements while flying on Saphira's back.

To my amusement, if not anyone else's, Roran was rattling off obscenities directed towards Eragon. He knelt in front of me, holding Katrina tenderly against his chest, so I could heal her more effectively. To my further amusement, Saphira was a hundred percent more graphic on the tortures awaiting Eragon when he returned.

As soon as I declared that Katrina would be perfectly fine, given time and a gradual increase in food, Roran directed his displeasure at me. I endured a long rant of how, if he had any say in the matter, neither me, nor Katrina, nor Eragon would ever be allowed out of some fortress in Carvahall. It was a rather well-thought-out plan to make sure the people he cared about the most would never get hurt. Touching, even if I thought the three of us would go insane under the circumstances Roran considered ideal and safe.

Later, I was slightly miffed at the fact that Nasuada sent a separate physician to the tent Roran and Katrina would be sharing to make sure she actually would be fine. Sometimes, listening to Nasuada's conversations could be interesting, especially when she managed to pull off a particularly clever political move. When her audiences devolved into annoying arguments, it got rather tedious.

"How are you supposed to find a single man in the middle of the Empire?" Nasuada demanded of Arya.

"He's a Rider. The land recognizes him. One who knows how to listen can find him without much trouble."

"Arya, you may have the rest of the army fooled, but I know you are Islanzadí's daughter. If anything happened to you, the Varden could not risk your mother withdrawing her aid for a second time."

"So you place the aid of the elves over the safety of your only capable and truly loyal Rider?"

"Arya, that's not what I meant. Eragon will be fine."

"Can you promise that?"

"The Empire is too large for it to cover all the gaps. Those are gaps that Eragon can easily slip through. With another person, it would become more difficult. For you, it's too great a risk, especially considering the implications if something went wrong. You would have to set out unarmed and alone. I would rather send out one of the spellcasters, but they agree with me. Eragon is safer by himself."

"What if he encounters a mounted patrol? Elves are fast and strong, but by the time Eragon manages to take them down, he'll have drawn more attention than he can handle. Rider or not, his power is limited without Saphira."

"I'll go." I volunteered abruptly.

"What are you talking about, Ella? You're a little girl, there's no way you would escape notice."

"I can pull off an orphan boy. I'd be much less conspicuous than a woman travelling alone. I go, and there's no risk of repercussions from allies, plus, I have a better chance at finding him. I know him better and my mind is just as powerful, despite my age."

"Ella, it's too dangerous!" Both women protested.

"Give me three days. If I don't find him in three days, Arya will follow with two spellcasters. I can track him."

"What makes you so sure?" Arya retorted. Oops, I just stepped on her pride.

"The same way Elva doesn't know what hurts me."

Arya frowned. "Elva is completely unrelated to this!"

"Exactly."

The elf shook her head. "Lady Nasuada—"

"If a magician senses you using magic to change your appearance—" I started. A moment later, Arya grabbed me around the throat and slammed me to the ground.

"You are an arrogant little whelp!" She snarled in my face, in Dwarvish so no one else present could understand, and too quiet for anyone else to hear. "I won't stand for you driving us all to our graves by playing at being a god. Whatever you have on the future, you have no right to play with my life or anyone else's like a sick game of Runes, especially not Eragon's."

"I'm not playing with anyone's lives!" I retorted. "No more than you, or Nasuada, or Elva, or Islanzadí, or Orik, or Nar Garzvog. I'm no one's master, I don't play with or manipulate other people's thoughts and feelings. My master is the quest to destroy Galbatorix. As soon as this war is over, I'll be gone, you won't ever need think of me again. Let me do my duty."

The Nighthawks dragged Arya off of me.

"I'll be leaving now." I pointedly straightened my armor and tunic before marching out of the pavilion.

"What has gotten into you, Arya?"

"That creature is not to be trusted," the elf snapped back before I left earshot.

In five minutes, I had changed into the rags I wore while infiltrating Feinster. It took me five more minutes to track down a warm and ragged enough cloak to not freeze during the night and another five minutes to detach my glider contraption and stuff it in an old pack along with a little bit of food. Eragon had left everything behind except Za'roc and his cloak. I shuffled through his things until I found the old belt knife he used to bring with him when he hunted in the Spine. I attached it to the strip of cloth I used as a belt, picked up my oak staff and set out.

I felt Arya watching me leave through the herds of cattle, the remainder of the camp none the wiser of my departure.

So do you remember how I said I was a lucky person? Well, my luck, miraculously, led me almost directly into Eragon, two-and-a-half days after I left the Varden. I was travelling along some deserted road when I spied a giant cloud of dust approaching me. I firmly placed the 'innocent boy with impossible dreams of becoming a bard' shield around my mind and waited. I suppressed a brief moment of panic when I realized that it was a contingent of Empire soldiers marching directly towards me. They passed, barely noticing me. I felt several magicians touch my mind, but they quickly dismissed me a no threat. One, a young man with more arrogance than sense, motioned me forward.

"Hey kid, want to see something cool?" He asked.

I played up my act and nodded, wide-eyed. He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me to the center of the group. Two oxen were pulling a seemingly empty cart. The man lifted me up, staff and all, and set me in the cart before jumping up behind me. The men leading the animals scowled, but didn't say anything. I barely managed to control my expression as I recognized Eragon lying there, bound, gagged, and beaten to a bloody pulp.

"Do you recognize him?"

I shook my head.

"He's the Rider that is fighting for the Varden. We lost half our men in the process, but we caught him in the end." The magician kicked Eragon in the stomach but he didn't respond. "You can touch him if you would like. That would be quite the story for you to tell, what do you think?"

"Letta," I responded. The people closest to me halted abruptly.

I killed the man an instant later. Before anyone could figure out what was going on, I slid my staff down the front of Eragon's shirt and down one of his pantlegs before hoisting the staff across my shoulders and running as fast as I could from the soldiers. I didn't release the spell until I was out of range of their arrows. They tried to pursue me, but they had no horses. With Eragon weighing me down, I was slowed to the speed of humans, but with several hastily muttered spells to make my path as smooth and me as sure-footed as a Feldûnost in its native land, I continued to slowly and steadily pull away from the small army chasing after me.

They chased me for most of the day, but eventually, they exhausted themselves. I continued to run until I could no longer see them on the horizon. When I was sure they were no longer following, I angled my run south towards Surda. I only made it about three more miles before I collapsed, exhausted and whimpering. In just a day, I had worn almost all the way through the soles of my shoes. I drew on the energy stored in my necklace to heal the worst of Eragon's wounds. I tucked us both against the base of a low grassy hill to cover for our lack of shelter. Eragon had taught me a neat trick to pull water from the ground, and I did so, quickly cleaning up my face and sating my thirst before murmuring the spell to contact Nasuada. To my annoyance, only Arya was present.

"Did you find him?" She demanded coldly.

"Yes."

"Where are you?"

"I don't know. I had a run-in with part of Galbatorix's army and I lost track of where we were running. They managed to drug Eragon, but it'll wear off soon."

"How long until you return?"

"At least three days."

"Very well. I will pass on your message. It is nearly nightfall. Contact me or Nasuada at dawn."

I scowled and released the spell and the water. My back ached from the weight of the staff across my shoulders for half the day, my feet were raw and blistered, and I was utterly exhausted. Without thinking, I just curled against Eragon's chest and went to sleep.

(o)

Luckily, Eragon woke before anything could sneak up on us. He sat up, waking me, and seemed to hear something I couldn't. He clamped a hand over my mouth and leapt into a full sprint. I barely managed to hang on to my staff.

After a few minutes of running, he slowed enough to shift me onto his back before speeding back up.

"What's going on?" I asked in an undertone.

"Roran and I couldn't find the last Leathrblaka, and it somehow got itself another spawn."

"Not even you can outrun a Leathrblaka," I responded.

"I know, but we're only a day-and-a-half away from a point where Saphira should be able to fly out and help."

"How do you—"

"The stars. Brom taught me how to navigate by them."

"There's no way we're going to make it."

"I know, but we definitely need to get out of range of the town and the soldiers."

"What if we scry Saphira and she can fly out while we kill the Leathrblaka, get us, and fly back. We'd be home before evening."

"I lost Za'roc," Eragon rasped.

"I have my glider and I took your old belt knife you used to bring hunting. If you can do the thing Arya did to help my glider, I can defeat this Leatherblaka."

"Ella, you know I can't—"

"I'm not defenseless."

"I know that, but you're only nine, and extremely small for your age."

"I held my own against Nar Garzvog."

"Ella—"

"I can do this!"

"Let me take your glider—"

"It won't hold you, and there's no way you could learn to use it fast enough to fight in the air with it."

It was a long time before he responded. "I don't like it, but fine, I'll see what I can do to help you fly, but only once the Leathrblaka catches up."

I nodded and clung to Eragon with my legs while I attached the glider to my staff. It was more difficult than I thought it would be, but I managed. When I finished, I wrapped my arms around Eragon's neck, the glider trapped between us.

"How do you know it's the Ra'zac?"

"I just know, I can smell it."

I sniffed the air, but all I smelled was grass and earth. "I can't."

"Saphira," Eragon responded as if it answered everything. It didn't.

Eragon ran in silence for a few minutes. "Why?" I finally asked.

"Why what?"

"Why did you stay behind? Saphira could have carried you back."

He didn't answer.

"Eragon, everyone was extremely worried about you."

"No, Ella, you and Saphira may have been worried about me, but everyone else wasn't. Nasuada was worried about what losing the only decently trained Rider would mean. Arya was worried everything she worked for would be for naught. Roran was worried about Katrina and feared I would be the only person who could heal her."

"That's not true!"

Eragon stopped and set me on my feet. "Ella, people aren't as nice as you are. They always have an ulterior motive."

"You don't really think that, Eragon. I know you don't."

"Tell me, why is Roran fighting with the Varden?"

"They destroyed Carvahall and captured Katrina."

"Why is Nasuada fighting?"

"The Varden is her family and she knows Galbatoix won't stop until he either destroys them or has them so thoroughly under his thumb that they won't be able to move."

"What about the Urgals?"

"Because the Empire will destroy them. The Varden's victory is their only hope of survival."

"The dwarves?"

"They are sick of living underground."

"They all have a reason. I could take Oromis, Glaedr, Murtaugh, Thorn, and everyone I cared about across the sea, build a new order of Riders, and come back in two or three hundred years and attack Galbatorix directly, with a much better chance of success."

"You're fighting because you can't see an injustice done and simply ignore it."

"What about the injustice done to me? Who fights on my behalf?"

"Brom," I answered with certainty. "Saphira. Me." The screech of the Leathrblaka punctuated the declaration.

I spun towards the sound in alarm to see the creature zipping towards us, a cloud of dust in its wake.

"Uh-oh," I commented descriptively. A moment later, Eragon scooped me up and dashed straight back towards the Varden as fast as he could. Behind us, I could hear men cackling madly. "We're not going to make it, Eragon," I told him.

"We don't have to make it; I just have to contact Saphira."

"We're not going to make it! We have to stop and scry her!"

"What if it's a trap to pull her this far away from the Varden?"

"At the very least she can grab us and fly right back."

"It's too much of a risk. I need you to promise me that you'll escape if you have the chance, whether I'm with you or not."

"I'm not going to abandon you, Eragon."

"Ella!"

"If anything, you should be the one leaving me behind! The Varden needs you far more than they need me."

The little I could see of Eragon's face twisted as if he was in pain.

"I won't ask you to do that, Eragon, we'll both get out of this, I promise. We'll kill the Letherblaka and outrun or defeat the soldiers, okay?"

"Is it even worth it?" Eragon jogged to a stop. I jumped off his back and grabbed the front of his shirt.

"Eragon, you can't give up. If you give up, the Varden is finished."

"It's finished either way!"

"We still have hope! We will win this war!"

"How?"

"I don't know how, I just know that we will win."

"Ella, I'm not cut out to save everyone."

"You care, Eragon, that's all that matters."

"Saphira should have chosen someone else, she should have chosen you or Arya or one of the elves."

"So you'll just abandon her‽ Eragon, the bond between a dragon and rider isn't something that can be replaced, it's not a place me or Arya or one of the elves can fill. They're not going to kill you, Eragon. They'll kill me, but they'll never kill you. They'll take you to Galbatorix and he'll break your mind, control you, and through you he will control Saphira. You'll leave Murtagh and Thorn vulnerable, they're not strong enough to escape Galbatorix for long. You'll expose Ebrithil and Glaedr. Galbatorix will know our exact numbers, abilities, everything."

"Ella, just run, run and don't look back."

"No! Eragon, I swore an oath, in the Ancient Language, to the cause of defeating Galbatorix. It won't allow me to let you give up. It will force me to fight to defend you and they will kill me."

"Ella, walk away. Walk away and don't look back. Abandon me here. It will change your true name and release you from the oath. Please. I don't want to force you."

"No, Eragon, I will fight you if you try that, and you can't win a magician's duel against me without Saphira, it doesn't matter what happened at the Agaetí Blödhren. If you fight me, I can and I will ruthlessly overpower you and make you run back to the Varden and leave me here because you can make it if you're not carrying me."

Eragon took a deep, shuddering breath, then pulled me into a hug. "Okay, okay. I'll do what I can to help you against the Lethrblaka, then we'll outrun the men, okay?"

I nodded, then took a running leap into the air. Eragon was a good spellcaster, even if he didn't have the finesse Arya had, but he made up for it by creating powerful shields on my mind and predicting the Lethrblaka's moves. While I was whipping around the Leathrblaka and trying to knock it out of the air with nothing but my hands and a belt knife, I had to remind Eragon several times that I was not Saphira. I could not breathe fire on a whim.

The fight with the Lethrblaka was the longest fight of my life. I managed to shred the creature's wings, but Eragon wouldn't let me land on its back and try and get a better strike with my belt knife. I tried to harry it down so Eragon could jump up and catch hold, but it was too smart. Eragon had no idea where they came from, but during the fight, soldiers, laughing like madmen, appeared on the horizon. Aside from a few bruises, the Lethrblaka couldn't touch me. The appearance of the soldiers broke both mine and Eragon's concentration and I paid for it. When our heads turned towards the horizon, the Lethrblaka turned with unforeseen agility and one of its claws, I couldn't tell which, caught the underside of my arm and sliced through the muscle like a blade through water. I screamed as it rent a deep gash from my left armpit, across my chest to my opposite hip, then down my leg. I lost control of the glider, tumbling from the sky.

The gash wasn't particularly deep, if treated, it definitely wouldn't kill me, but the unexpectedness and the size of the wound incapacitated me and I dropped from the sky like a stone.

It hurt, it hurt so much, and what hurt the most was how quickly Eragon pulled himself from my mind. I knew why, he couldn't afford to be incapacitated as well and he and Saphira did the same thing when one was injured, but it made everything many times worse.

I saw Eragon running to catch me and the Lethrblaka shooting after him. When he turned and engaged the Lethrblaka, I knew he wouldn't be able to catch me. He didn't have time for a spell, I couldn't pull up the focus to save myself.

The creature didn't stand a chance. Eragon had a stick in his hand, a stick he'd been sharpening and strengthening during the fight. It wasn't finished, but it was strong enough. The second the Lethrblaka was close enough, he grabbed it. I struck the ground.

I watched my right hand hit the ground first, two of my fingers fractured at the impact, followed by my forearm, then my upper arm bent in ways they definitely were not supposed to bend. My head hit the ground and I bounced at least twice, the glider breaking alongside my bones. I wasn't high enough in the air to die in the fall, but I definitely wasn't low enough to avoid serious injury. I lay there in too much pain to move or make a sound.

I heard Eragon shouting curses. He knelt in front of me for a brief moment, but it was just to snatch the belt knife out of my hand before he was gone. The Lethrblaka landed several feet away from me and didn't move.

I didn't know how long I lay there, but eventually, I managed to gather the fortitude to roll onto my back. The glider was broken beneath me, but as far as I could tell, my staff was intact, not that I dared move to look. The heat of the sun helped clot the bleeding. By the time Eragon leaned over me, the sun had moved several inches across the sky.

When I blinked up at him, he swore. "I'm so sorry, Ella, I thought you were unconscious. I'm going to make you sleep, and when you wake up, it will all be over, okay? I promise."

I blinked up at him.

"Slytha."