Hey guys!

I'm getting a little peeved still. Day after day, I've gotten like dozens of things favoriting this story or my pen name and yet i don't get as many comments as I have fans. And I am giving you little free-loader a little warning here. I really need more imput if I am to keep this story up well. And well, if it continues, you may just have to wait till summer to get too much more b/c I am not really wanting to keep up a story that no one's going read. And don't worry, if you know me personally, I'll still send you updates and stuff.

So there that is. But I do have some news about what I am expecting to do with this. Although Paolini said the third book was coming out next year, in order to be anywhere close to on time with this story, I'm going to try to get at least one chapter done every 2 weeks. I'm aiming for around Chritmas this year. But I suppose you've had enough of my ranting.

Enjoy!


From under the table, there came a low growl. Before Eragon could react or Aiedail could call it off, the little dragon launched itself at Eragon, scratching and biting him. As it was far too little to do much damage, Eragon simply smile in amusement. A little blood trickled down his leg as it was repetitively gouged by the fighting youngster. The little dragonling had never met anyone who had that little of a reaction to being hurt. Of course, he'd hardly even met anyone.

Mortified, Aiedail snatched up her dragon, his little claws still slashing and jaws still trying to clamp onto Eragon. He tried to push out of her arms, struggling and snarling to reach his adversary. He beat his tail at Eragon in anger, one sign wild dragons used as a warning. She gave him a firm smack on the head and turned away; trying to reach his savage little mind to tell him his behavior was unacceptable. He continued to block her out, desperate still to finish his battle. He swung his head over her shoulders, reaching back to try and get at Eragon. Finally, she had enough.

"Stop!" she yelled sternly. He continued to struggle, but her yelling was enough for her to be able to get in his head.

Thoughts rushed around. Emotions surged through her. Protection. Loyalty. Anger. Fear. Especially a savage, wild desire for blood. She sent him calming images, trying to make him relax before she would yell at him. But every image she sent was sent right back, showing how he saw it at that moment.

A lake, serene and calm, absolute silence, with gentle animals gathering on the shoreline was replaced by a bloody hurricane, animals from the lake being tossed from shore to shore in a matter of seconds. A breezy field with blue skies above replaced by a field on fire with ash and smoke darkened skies. White puffy clouds replaced by black harsh ones. A beautiful mountain scene with a small town nestled at base replaced by a volcano, people from the village running around screaming as molten rock gushed from its tip. He rejected them all, fighting her till she ran out of ideas.

But then, off a wild thought, she sent him one last image. The second it reached its destination, his mind softened a little. It was the gardens of Surda, with its crystal pools and water falls. With its stepping stones and flowers. Bees and humming birds and butterflies. Slowly, his body wriggled less and less. He no longer slashed or bit the air. And the warning beating of his tail turned into a soft thrum following the endless drone of the waterfall.

She put him down softly, keeping the image in his mind while she explained. Eragon is our friend. There's no need to hurt him. He's our friend. She assured him. She started to fade the image. The dragon didn't move so she continued, slowly weaning him off the scene. Eventually she was able to turn and face Eragon. What she saw startled her at first.

Saphira lay on the floor, curled up around her sitting rider; his leg healed. They seemed to be talking, but when Eragon realized they had eyes on them, he cut the conversation short.

"I see you two are back. You have a nice talk?" he said, a grin on his face.

"Not much of a talk. He would let me in for so long…" she answered, brushing back her messed up hair. She now saw that she had light gashes, up and down her forearm. The little dragon cowered behind her, mollified by what he did to her arm.

"Well, you did better then I expected. I thought you'd be out for twice that time, with you having told him to stay and him not listening at all." He grinned at her shocked expression. "Doesn't listen, does he? Well, we'll have to work on that." He grabbed an apple off the table.

"How did you…" As he took a bite, he held out his hand, signaling for her to stop. Only once he had swallowed, he spoke.

"You don't really know how to guard your conversations yet. It's no secret to anyone who knows how to mind speak what you told him. Yet another thing we're going to have to work on."

"But how did you know he was even here?" her eyes spoke of true confusion.

"Simple. I can feel every life form in vicinity where ever I go. Felt something like Saphira's life form in the castle and followed it right to your door. He's not exactly invisible, you know. Even if he is still tiny."

"So everything you expected."

"Well, not exactly. But I did have a general idea of what you'd do. I hid Saphira much longer, trust me." Saphira gave a toothy grin, though trying to look friendly, though all she managed to do was scared the little dragon. And why shouldn't he be afraid when his whole body was smaller then her teeth still!

He cowered behind his rider instead. She stepped aside, attempting to encourage the youngster to be brave and say hi. But he dashed back behind her, still feeling quite mouse-like next to the older she-dragon.

"Sorry. He's still kind of skittish." She said to Saphira, glaring her dragonling out of the corner of her eye.

It's okay. In a short while, I won't seem so big to him. He'll grow fast. She answered sweetly. Then she crouched down, meeting him at eye level, head resting on the floor. I'm not going to hurt you. She cooed softly, respectfully blowing softly on his face as a submissive sign. Still unconvinced, the little dragon made the smallest motion to move to her. Not more then a hairsbreadth, but still progress. She repeated her actions, this time saying her vow in the ancient language. Though still not truly understanding what she was saying to him, he some how…did.

Tentatively, the little dragon first stretched out one foot, then the other, stepping slowly but surely into the golden light. The second he was out of the shadows, green reflections danced on the walls; meshing with the blue ones Saphira's scales made and in so doing creating a beautiful, gemmed look on the walls.

The dragonling sat on his little haunches, looking up at Saphira like a cowering, frightened dog. Eragon smiled at his expression, and then turned his attention back to Aiedail.

"So, I have a question for you, Aiedail, now. Where did he come from?" Eragon looked deep into her eyes. There was no way of lying to him, she could see.

"I'm not really…wait. I think I remember something." She paused for a second. Could that really have been it? "I think I know what happened. Murtagh had to have snuck him into my bag. He must have known I'd be leaving weeks before I did."

"Why would he do that?" Eragon's voiced slowly trailed off, like he was deep in thought.

"Murtagh's not all bad, you know Eragon. He's just, messed up…" She assured him. His expression seemed at a loss. She could see the sourness on his face form the mere mention of his name, as if it was unfit for any conversation.

"That doesn't excuse what he's done." He answered in a cold, detached voice.

"What are you saying? He's your brother!" she said, not meaning Th last part to come out so loud. He gave her the coldest, evilest stare. Suddenly the whole conversation had went flatter then bread missing yeast. Saphira gave a low growl at Aiedail's outburst. The young dragon, broken out of his little shell, growled right back and she glared at him. But he sat defiantly, looking into her face without fear or remorse.

Finally, Aiedail spoke. "Come on, Eragon. At least he's trying. I would be here if he wasn't. I'd be…" her voice faded, unwilling to say the rest. Eragon gave a grim nod.

"How about we lay off that? At least for today. I mean, you're the last rider and you're here on our side. How much more can I ask for?" he gave her a smile, but masked behind it, she could still feel his body tensed up, still in thought about it.

"Ya." She answered back, dazed and a bit detached. "What exactly is going to happen to me?" her voice trembled a little. Eragon looked her over; afraid her sickness from that last night hadn't completely washed over her. But as he did, he saw one thing he didn't expect.

Fear

He gave her a reassuring smile. She smiled back, but it was still there. He put his hand on her shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. "Don't worry Aiedail. I'll walk you through it all. You'll have someone with you who can help you the way I never had someone. At least at the beginning."

She turned away from him, walking over to a portrait on the wall. It depicted the last major battle of the war. The same war they were still in now. The last battle where dragon riders were still seen on the fields, ready to exploit their unfair advantages. Her hand graced the violent picture, tracing the outline of a dying blue dragon with its rider near by, screaming in pain. She cringed a little.

"Eragon, you don't understand. That man I killed…I just can't stop thinking about it. His eyes. I can see them all the time, watching me. It won't get any better when I am a rider. And don't tell me it will. I never want to do something like that again. Not ever." She looked down, eyes gushing out tears. She choked out her words, doing the best she could to look strong. Here she was talking to probably one of the most powerful people in Alagaesia at the moment, and she was almost in tears.

She looked back up at the painting. How much the artist had known. Above the bloody scene, the sky was mockingly beautiful, embers from dragon mouths merely serving to fleck the deep purple sky with glowing red stars. Even smoke and evaporating blood from the scene billowed into the sky, only helping it be more beautiful.

"Don't tell me that, Eragon. Don't even try to tell me the Varden or the Empire or both won't want me to fight. Even if I flatly refuse." She rested her head on the cold stone, hoping to hide her tears from the great rider.

Before she even knew it, she could feel warmth beside her and turned to see Eragon's intense brown eyes staring into hers. "Aiedail. It's hard. I know. Only a short while ago, I was here. I was the one confused. You want a reason as for the fighting, follow me."

"But what about his?" she gestured to the dragonling, who's low attention span was showing as he danced around, chasing his shadow with a twinkle in his eye.

"Saphira will take care of him. She'll take him back to my room." He said, walking towards the door.

"But what if he's seen?" Her question was answered a second later, as Eragon walking over to a rather plain looking rug. He pushed it aside to reveal a massive door, big enough for something bigger then Saphira even to squeeze in. He opened it.

"This tunnel leads everywhere in the castle. It's a life saver sometimes, but it can be a pain." Eragon explained. "No one'll ever know he's even here."

"But-"

Don't worry, young rider. I've got him. Saphira said as she swished past, the dragonling daintily hanging from her massive jaws. She entered the dark tunnel, slowly disappearing in the dark. She felt a little apprehension as the tip of her tail slipped into the dark, but she knew she had to ignore him for now and follow Eragon.

Miles on miles of rolling field spread out before them. In the bright light of noon, the distant sea sparkled like a silvery dragon's hide after being polished to perfection. The salty smell on the air carried to her nose, stinging it slightly. Directly bellow her, the city lay, every building carved into the ground with the daintiest precision. Children played games in the streets, darting among the buildings, as their mothers watched from a distance. The marketplace was at its most packed, stuffed with indiscriminant faces, busy with the daily task of bargaining for the things that kept them alive. Everything was the same as she'd seen all her life in the marketplace of Uru'baen. Accept one thing. Their faces were overwhelmingly welcoming, smiling at even the shyest being midst the crowd. From the roof, even, every one of these things stood out like a soar thumb.

"You get it yet?" Eragon asked, facing the horizon. He watched the land bellow him even as he spoke.

"Get what?" she asked back, puzzled.

"You see all then bellow us?" he turned toward her for a fraction of a second to see her nod before returning his attention to the horizon. "Beautiful, isn't it. Close your eyes and imagine for a moment. What would happen if you let someone like the man you killed, intending on killing you mind you, take over?" he asked.

Her eyes saw Uru'baen. A beautiful city, it was true. But those smiles were gone. And it wasn't all beautiful. No city could be, it was true. But she could see the ever burning buildings, still burning as a testimony of the First Attack. Or "Reconfiguration" as the Rider King had called it. She tried to picture a shroud like that falling over Aberon and a chill went down her spine.

"War is not about the amount of blood you spill. It's about the amount of blood you save. The amount of freedom you create. We want them all to see it, Aiedail. We want our brothers and sisters and sons and daughters to be able to see it like this, Aiedail. And I don't know about you, but for that, I'll fight for." The look on his eyes became a little bit distant, sending chills down her spine again.

Suddenly, Eragon stiffened. He flew to his feet and took off, not even bothering to use the stairs. As he jumped of the roof, a piercing alarm sounded. The sound of arrows on the wind caught their ears.

The streets below were broken by a black figure, jostling through the crowd as a troop of panicked soldiers chased after the figure.

Aiedail opened her mind, trying to figure out what was going on.

Saphira's faint, panicked voice was all she could hear:

Help me!


Hope you liked my little cliff hanger, there. Well, if you don't want to be hanging there till June, just press that little review button. If no one gives me any critsim, constructive or otherwise, or even just the occational good work or something, I'm really going to just give up on posting it. Doesn't mean I won't write it. But I'm certainly not going to go off and tell you bout it. So please,

Review!