After several weeks of training, as well as dodging the winter storms and Riders, Arlen's training was completed and Artsanna made a full recovery. While Artsanna's recovery was rather easy, Arlen's training had been anything but. After every day, his mind was emptied of any capacity for thought. Finally, it was done as they came near the city of Gil'ead.

Arlen smiled with relief when Murtagh told him that his training was done. But that smile disappeared when Murtagh drew his sword. Murtagh explained, "I may have trained your mind, but maybe I didn't. There's only one way I can be sure."

Arlen nodded with understanding and drew his long sword. "If we're to spar, then let's do it," Arlen said.

Artsanna made a sound like giddy laughter. That's the spirit, Arlen.

Arlen was only doing this to test his skill and no other reason. If he had no reason to duel, then he would rather not. But since it was the only way, he would not argue.

They took up fighting stances and prepared to duel. They circled each other, each waiting to strike. After several minutes, Arlen's patience wore thin, but he knew that he couldn't be the first to attack in a duel against someone this dangerous—he could only hope to defend himself and occasionally strike back. It was agonizing, but he could bare it.

Finally, Murtagh struck and Arlen parried. The resulting duel was long and tiring, but at least it was a better fight than when he first met Murtagh. It was the greatest test of Arlen's skill he'd ever had, but it was also exhilarating.

The duel ended soon after Murtagh lunged towards Arlen's side. He parried the red blade, and struck Murtagh's upper left arm. It drew blood and Murtagh put his hand up. "Enough!" he said urgently. "You've gotten awfully lucky this time, but Elves won't be the same way."

Arlen nodded. "Of course."

Murtagh spoke a spell and his wound was quickly healed. He then turned back to Arlen and stated, "You've passed the test. Now leave me alone. Go on your way."

Arlen watched questioningly as Murtagh climbed up Thorn's side. "Why leave?"

Murtagh didn't look back down as he called out, "You and Artsanna have your troubles and I have mine. You've got a Shade chasing after you and I've got Eragon. If he thinks there's a chance I'm a threat, he'll come out of the Unknown Lands and gut me himself."

Arlen was confused. That didn't sound like the hero most people made him out to be. "Why would he do that? I thought he wasn't that sort of hero."

Murtagh stopped on the rope ladder and looked down. "If one keeps the council of Dragons and only Dragons for too long, they start to think like Dragons. He's going to turn out like Galbatorix if he keeps himself locked away with elder Dragons."

That confused him even more. "I thought the only Dragons left after the war were all newly hatched, like Thorn. Any elder Dragons would be dead."

Murtagh shook his head and laughed. "Perhaps I said too much, my former student. Now isn't that a thought; me a teacher. What's the world coming to?" As Murtagh started to climb again he said, "I'll leave you with this riddle, Arlen: How can a dead Dragon give council to the living?" That didn't make any sense whatsoever. "Goodbye, Arlen, and good hunting. I hope you find your friends, and that they appreciate you after."

"Goodbye," Arlen replied, left with many questions and few answers.

He stepped back as Thorn flew into the sky on wings big enough to be sails for a ship. Every time he flapped his wings was like thunder, and in the sun that had decided to show itself today, he looked almost on fire. It was terrifyingly magnificent.

As the sound of Thorn's flapping faded, Arlen turned to his remaining Dragon companion. "How does a Dragon survive after death?"

Artsanna shrugged. I have no idea. Then again, I don't know much about being a Dragon. Perhaps there's something he knows that I don't.

Arlen nodded. "Probably."

Arlen went into Gil'ead soon enough. He had to leave Artsanna, because as unseen as she could be on a cloudy day with snow at her feet, in a city, there was nowhere for a Dragon to hide. It was a good thing too because Artsanna would never have liked to be around in this cramped a space. He'd never been in a city before, but if this any indication, he wouldn't want to be again.

The sights and sounds were almost too much, and he almost lost himself in this place. The smells were awful too, and he wondered why. It seemed to be coming from a channel on the side of the rode filled with foul smelling and looking water. He wondered how that stuff could get there when a pair of shudders opened and a woman tossed the contents of a pot into the street, aiming for the channel mostly. His question unfortunately answered, he definitely wanted to leave as soon as possible.

But no matter his feelings, he had a mission to complete. He had to find where Lynde and Rose were taken. If they were sent to a prison, then he'd find out what prison. If they were sent back to Cathalorn, then he'd find that out. If they were dead then at least he'd know. All he had to do was find out where to go without appearing to be a naive traveler.

His father had told him about cities. He'd been there before, and told Arlen along with his brother and sister how travelers used to village life could easily find themselves with no money very quickly. He'd try to seem like he was someone there to stay because very few people wanted to upset the new neighbor when the neighbor wore a sword. Hopefully his plan would work and what little money he had wouldn't be stolen.

He was wondering how to find where they'd have some record of Lynde and Rose when a couple of young boys scurried beside him. Keeping his hand on his sword, he watched the boys run past him, keeping their hands to themselves. He decided to check his money pouch just the same and found it missing.

Instead of announcing something like "thief" he said very loudly, as if to address someone across the crowd, "Excuse me, but is that mine?" Instantly, a scrawny looking boy ran out of the crowd down an alley. Arlen chased after him. His longer legs were an advantage, but this boy had a lot more practice running than he did. He hoped to get the boy before he got out of the alley.

Suddenly out from a stack of barrels came a man with a long graying brown beard and a thick staff. He had a crazed look in his eyes, and made a warning sound at the pair of them. "Go young folks!" the madman said. "Run from the magician the Queen missed that is me!"

The young boy was fooled by the man, and ran right back into Arlen. He stopped the boy, and his coin pouch was soon returned. He let the boy go off without further inconvenience and turned back to the older man.

"Go, young feller! Go and leave me in peace," he said as he waved his staff.

Arlen sighed and shook his head. "I know that you're not a magician so drop the act."

The man lowered his arms in a disappointed manor. "How'd you know?"

"Not many magicians announce themselves as 'the one the Queen missed'. It's surprising that the Queen's Magicians haven't picked you up already."

"They have," the man said, sitting on a barrel, "more than once. You know, I don't think I've had a conversation this well tempered in ten years. Now isn't that odd?"

Arlen shrugged. "I guess growing up in a village beats the city." He put a hand forward. "Arlen Drydensson of Cathalorn."

The man's eyes grew wide. "You're from Cathalorn? You're Dryden's son?"

Arlen looked suspiciously at the man. "Yes. Why?

"I'm Herbst," the man said.

It was Arlen's turn to be surprised. Herbst was Lynde's father! And now that he looked, he could see the face of the crotchety man who always scared off him and Ehren when they got too close to his house, plus ten years and a long beard. Arlen smiled, realizing it was Herbst. "Yes, it is you. It is you!" They eagerly shook hands. "It's good to see a fellow man of Cathalorn here."

"Ah, so it is," Herbst replied. He then said thoughtfully, "Why are you here?"

Arlen froze for a moment. Did he really want to tell him about Lynde being a Rider? Perhaps not here, but later in another place. For now he would just say the truth excluding her being a Rider. "I'm looking for Lynde," he explained.

Herbst looked very surprised. "Are you and her…?"

He realized what Herbst was about to say and cut him off. "No, we're not. You see, she was arrested for being a magician."

Herbst sighed heavily. "Like mother like daughter," he mumbled. "Why did…?" Herbst jumped off the barrel he was sitting on and smashed another—empty, rotted—one with his staff. "Why did it have to be her?!"

"I can answer that, but not here," Arlen said, trying to calm him down. "Come with me to outside the city and I'll explain everything."

Herbst agreed and they left the city. He remembered the hill where Artsanna was hiding. The hiding spot was an old bear's den that they found abandoned, and Artsanna—much to her displeasure—dug out even more to fit herself in it. He found the old den easily, and called in, "Come out, Artsanna."

There was a rustling in it before Artsanna said, There is someone with you. I can smell him. Who is he?

"Lynde's father, Herbst." He could feel Herbst's confused look behind him. "Come on, Artsanna. We can trust him."

Alright, but if he runs, I'll go after him.

"Of course, but come out already." There was a rustling again, and Artsanna started coming out. "Herbst, meet Artsanna," he said as she climbed out of the den, "Lynde's Dragon."