I was running.

My feet moving swiftly down the smooth marble of the wide, high ceilinged corridors as my heart pounded desperately. I was gripping my bow to which an arrow was already knocked. Screams. Voices yelling orders and warnings. The sounds of swords meeting swords ringing off the stone of the walls. Smoke. Figures running. Swords clashing again. Cries of pain and of fear. Arrows flying. My quiver bounced against my back. I was dressed in a gown meant for bed not war - the white fabric was already stained with flecks of blood and offered little protection.

People running. Dashing through the hallways in a chaotic disorder that made it nearly impossible for me to identify what the threat was. Some already lay lifelessly on the ground while others gasped for air as blood began to pool around them. I was not at either Caer Daythl or Caer Calldren - this was a different palace all together and, while it shared many similar architectural themes with those places, it was still foreign to me. I knew neither where I was going nor why though I seemed to be running against the tide. People seemed to be going in the opposite direction while I seemed to be heading towards the noise of battle.

I did not stop running. My feet pounded against the stone floor as I squeezed in between the masses of running warriors, screaming maids and frightened children. I did not look back. My hair, unbound, caught against the armor of a running warrior and some was ripped out but I barely noticed the stinging pain. The sound of swords hitting swords rang out behind me but I did not pause - why I do not know.

"Pethred!" My older brother suddenly appeared through the smokey haze that filled the corridors. His golden hair was disarrayed and his eyes sparking with the adrenalin fueled clarity that filled all warriors during a battle. In one hand he held a sword that dripped black blood onto the floor before him. He caught sight of me and began to push his way through the masses of running people till he stood before me. His blue eyes quickly taking me in as if to assure himself that I was not injured.

My dream-self spoke quickly, "Where is Taren? Eomund?" My older brother quickly placed a hand on my shoulder and pushed me forward as we resumed our run through the corridors. Where we were going I could not say but my dream-self knew and so I was carried along through the smoky corridors and past the dying figures of men and women that littered the corridors. Blood pooled in some places - the red of mortals and the foul black of Huntsmen, the foul creatures that carried out many of the dark shadow's wishes, mixing together. Safety seemed unreachable and I did not wish to find it - I wished to find battle and defeat the foul creatures that had infiltrated this place. I wanted answers and yet, as I had found out in other dreams, I was merely a passenger and not in control.

Pethred glanced behind and then said hurriedly, "I do not know. I lost them." He yanked me out of the way as a black feathered arrow streaked past me and then, his voice nearly inaudible because of the noise, he spoke. "We need to get..."

His words were cut off. Out of the smoke came the cruel, twisted face of a Huntsman. They were foul creatures, vaguely human in form but they hated our kind and knew nothing of love or kindness. They sought to destroy and kill. This one's yellow eyes glittered with the rage it felt for both my brother and I. In one hand it had a sword and it raised it to strike but my arrow flew from the smooth wood of my bow. I had seen the face and fired without hesitation. The creature fell dead and both my brother and I continued on - skirting the black body and not pausing.

A sudden crash made my brother push me towards the opposite wall. A window had been shattered by a large rock and shattered glass rained down on the two of us. Some of them cut through the thin material of my dress and one, large and jagged, opened a large gash down Pethred's face, but he did not seem to notice. Instead we continued on, our pace even faster now. My feet, clad in soft slippers better meant for a bedroom, slipped on a pool of blood and it was only my brother's quick grab of my elbow that kept me from falling.

The corridor opened up and we found ourselves in a large open, vaulted hall where staircases twirled down from upper floors in graceful spirals to the marble floor. Some of those staircases were now completely blocked as warriors did battle on them. Paintings and elaborate tapestries decorated the walls and torches flickered in the wall brackets casting strange shadows down on the battle that raged. We were on the ground level and, at one end of the hall, was a giant set of doors thrown open to show a dark night and more foul Huntsmen. The sounds of men crying out and the snarling battle cries of the Huntsmen filled the smokey air. Blood coated the floor and the flash of steel sent arcs of light across the room as the desperate fight continued on.

Pethred leapt forward, a cry of horror on his lips as he saw what I saw that moment as we paused briefly to observe this scene. Eomund. My brother was surrounded by snarling Huntsmen and blood already spreading across his shirt like a evil flower even as he dueled on. That his strength was failing was clear and that he was just about to be overrun was also apparent. I cried out to him but, before I could follow my eldest brother and leap to defend Eomund, I felt something behind me. I spun and saw a particularly large Huntsman bearing down on me. His cruel blade curved in an arc and it dripped crimson blood to floor. The cold yellow eyes glinted with triumph as he prepared to deliver a killing stroke.

I lifted by bow and fired a ready arrow towards him just as I rolled away from the swinging blow. I was in the battle now with nothing but my bow and no armor or knife or even my sword.

The dream changed. Yanking me away from the besieged palace and into another place.

I was in a stable. The sound of raindrops pounded against the roof and the chiseled heads of horses peaked over their stall doors watching me. The stalls were big and, at the end of the isle, was an open door that showed dark woods and pounding rain. Beside me was Eomund and Pethred, all of us armed and dressed in heavy, black soldier cloaks that would help shield us from the rain. A ranger passed me the reins to a dark grey stallion and smiled in farewell before heading back towards another open door that probably led back to the main buildings. Then, suddenly, I was following my brothers toward the door and then I was outside with the stallion beside me like a warm, secure presence.

The rain was cold and it quickly soaked my hair even as I moved to pull my hood up. I quickly mounted as did my brothers and then we were moving. The icy rain drops coming down hard and unyielding as we made our way down a path lined by trees. We were in the Wild - I knew that. I also knew we were leaving the safety of the main settlement behind and heading down the path that was normally used by those traveling towards Caer Dathyl. It was a long ride home and, on a night like this, it could prove deadly.

Our pace quickened. The stallion beneath me moving with powerful assurance down the muddy path, leaning into the bridle a little for support as we navigated the narrow trail. The dense forest beside us was dark and only lit by the occasional flash of lighting. Why were traveling in such a storm - towards Caer Daythl - was beyond me and so I had to follow my dream-self as I rode in between my two brothers. A loud clap of thunder nearly made me cry out as the sky was suddenly lit by a brilliant flash of forked lightning. Everything around me was alive and yet also bracing itself against the raging storm with its torrents of wind and rain. The rain hit my face as I bent low of my stallion's neck to avoid a branch. This was a miserable ride.

Another flash of lightning brightened the surrounding forest. The trees illuminated by the white light that made their wet leaves glitter for those brief seconds. My heart beat was drowned out by the explosion of thunder that followed. I did not know what was happening but I did know I had to match my brothers' pace as we hurried away from the warmth of the settlement and into the Wild.

My eyes fixed on the dark shape of Pethred in front of me. He guided his red bay mare through the trees with effortless ease along the twisting path that had been carved through many centuries of use. His dark cloak was dark with rain and, he to, was bent over his mare's rain drenched neck as we rode at a speed that could not be called safe in such conditions.

I suddenly heard something else. The sounds of heavy feet and a malveolent presence to my left set my nerves on edge. Surely there was nothing this close to the settlement? Unless it had been waiting for us and now chose to strike. Thoughts of ambush on this dark night sent my heart beat speeding up. I could see nothing but darkness behind the flying tree trunks but that did not mean there was nothing there. Suddenly I felt watched and it made me want to pull my sword out even though the glimmering blade could act as beacon.

Something moved again, this time closer to us and on the right. Then again to the left. We were being followed and the path was too narrow for us to ride side by side. We were perfect targets. I slipped my bow from my back and, with one hand to the reins, I slipped an arrow to the string and held the weapon ready. The stallion, Melyngar was his name I remembered suddenly, pulled against the reins and I gently loosed the contact so he could balance better as he ran.

A high-pitched cry came from my right and echoed through the raging rain. I knew that cry - would know it anywhere. It was the blood-curling cry of a Huntsman as they prepared to deal out their hatred. I loosed an arrow in the direction that it had come from and was rewarded by another cry - this one of pain - as we thundered on.

But the respite did not last long. Movement came agin, this time farther in front of us and I suddenly felt a thrill of fear for Pethred would be there in just a few strides. Before I could reload my bow, a arrow swept from behind me and towards the shape of the Huntsman as it leapt forward. The arrow had been Eomund's and it was a true shot despite the rain and the speed at which we moved. The creature let out a sickening cry as it fell backwards and into the underbrush. We did not stop.

A flash of lightning illuminated, to my left, the distorted face of one Huntsman. His yellow eyes glittering with hatred but not for long - I had used some precious seconds to find an arrow and now that arrow lodged itself in his throat. I turned back to face the direction we were headed. Soon we would come to another settlement - this one much smaller than the one we left behind but well defended. If we could make it...

The trail dipped down. Our horses splashed through a stream swollen with rain to form a small river. For a second my horse was swimming and the freezing water lapped against my legs and splashed all over me as the current pulled at us. The freezing water making me cry out in surprise. Then we were out. Back on the trail and our horses galloping on even as I felt myself start to shiver violently.

I knew the Huntsmen were close. I could feel it and sense their evil presence with my mind. All my questions were forgotten in this wild ride as my brothers and I struggled to make it towards safety as the rain fell and our enemies hunted us through the dark trees. The rain hitting the ground with a fierce kind of determination as if wanting to wash everything away.

Another movement and this time there was more than one dark thing moving beside us. A black arrow buzzed past my face and one of my own twanged towards the source. The reins in my left hand were slippery with water and I had to drop them if I wanted to shoot with any kind of accuracy. More black arrows flew at us, missing the three of us by inches if not less. Eomund and I returned fire as Pethred drew his shining sword in front of me in preparation.

A Huntsman lunged through the trees and I slammed my bow against his face. I pushed my horse onwards even as I felt him falter on the slick ground. There was no time - we were surrounded and the only hope lay without outriding them now. I pushed my bow away and drew my sword as I picked my reins back up. Arrows were useless now and I was forced to swing my blade widely as a creature lunged at my horse. Metal hit metal behind me as Eomund dispatched another. More Huntsmen jumped. More and more of them and I knew it was hopeless even as I swung my sword and Melyngar pushed onwards.

I felt my insides start to burn with magic. The power flowing through me and warming my chilled, wet body as I sat a little straighter on my horse. Everything inside of me was telling me to use it - to allow it to blaze out of me in a incantation that would save my brothers and I. But I had to be careful not to spend myself now when I might need my strength more later on. The wind shrieked around me and the rain seemed to have become heavier. I felt alive. I felt clear headed and so alive as if the world had just been sped up.

In front of me I saw Pethred slash at a Huntsman even as he galloped onwards. Then, before I could even guess at what happened, I saw a Huntsman jump at Pethred from behind. I cried out even as I urged my horse faster as if I could somehow get there before the creature could...it was too late. The creature slammed against my brother with a force that made my heart freeze. A dark blade stained red with my brothers blood and then the creature was falling off as my power surged forward and killed it. It was too late. I had been too late. I could see a deep wound on my brother's side and I knew I had to get to him. He would not stay mounted for long. Another flash of lightning lit the sky.

My stallion surged forward and suddenly I was beside my brother's mare. The tree branches smacking us even as I jumped from my horse to my brother's. I landed behind him and reached around and took the reins from his limp hands. He was terribly still. He was not moving even as he gripped the mane of his horse with his remaining strength. His blood soaking us both even as the rain pummeled down. Behind us galloped my now riderless stallion and Eomund.

My power blazed around us. I let it go - let it fill the air around us with a shield of hard air. Though, even as it held and protected us, the more Huntsmen that battered against it the harder and more taxing it was for me to maintain it. I was strong but I could not hold a hard wall of air, while galloping a horse down a path made slick with mud as I tried to keep my brother from falling off, for long. I had failed - was failing and it made me both angry and frightened. My brother was loosing too much blood and I could not save him. I pressed the weary horse onwards. Thunder boomed. Huntsmen shrieked their anger at not being able to reach us.

Then I saw it. Tiny orange flickering lights lay in front of us - close and drawing even closer as we galloped towards them. Soon we would be there and, even now, we should have alerted the patrols that guarded the area. Even through the heavy grey of the rain I could make out the buildings that formed the small settlement and the wall that surrounded it. We were almost there. I pressed onwards and poured my strength into the wall - the shield - that guarded us. We had to make it. A little longer...

My brother was unnaturally still in my arms and I knew he did not have long. I did not know how Eomund fared and there was no time to reach out mentally and ask. All my focus had to be on riding and my magic - there was no room for error. Even as we drew close to the village it seemed to move away. Then I felt the evil minds of the Huntsmen draw away as we drew close to the settlement - they would not follow us now but wait for another chance. A patrol would have to be sent out to deal with them in the morning. Such a large group could not be allowed to remain so close to our settlements.

The gate was open and I saw the faces of Rangers waiting for us, swords at the ready as the torches flickered in the rain. The lighting illuminating the buildings even as our horses hit the stone of the street. I let go of my magic and felt exhaustion slip into my body as the magic and adrenalin began to fade only to be replaced by fear as I caught sight of Eomund. His face was too pale - one had clutched his side and I saw that blood was streaming from between his fingers and down his side. He had been hit and his face was so pale, too pale, and drawn with pain. No. No. No.

The dream was beginning to fade. I did not want to go. I wanted stay and make sure my brothers were all right - I wanted to find out why we made this desperate ride through a storm and ambushes to make it here. But my mind was waking. I was returning to my living body and I could not stay…

I woke drenched in sweat, trembling with adrenalin and wrapped in my blankets as if I had tried to strangle myself. For the rest of the night, I sat on my comfortable window seat and stared out at the silent garden.


I sat quietly at the vanity table in my bathroom as Rina carefully plaited my hair with expert fingers.

The elf maiden's long golden locks were already pulled back and braided with small glittering jewels that flickered like tiny lights any time the delicate strands moved. She had brought me a dress - a pale rose gown that fell delicately around me. It was both formal and yet comfortable to. The neckline was covered with thin strings of silver that laced with one another, falling over my bare shoulders and down my arms. It was the kind of dress that I had once worn long ago and now, to feel the satiny silk brushing against my skin was like stepping back in time. Only this time it was the eve of the Agaeti Blodhren, the elves' three day celebration in honor of the dragon oath.

I had been surprised that Rina had come to assist me with preparing for the Celebration and that, according to her; Islanzardi had had the dress made specifically for me. It was both a nod to my status and to the alliance that had developed between me and the Queen of Du Weldenvarden. However, I did not question Rina but merely nodded my thanks and tried to calm my racing nerves as she assisted me with the dress and, now, with my hair. I knew what this Celebration would bring and, as always, I was madly hoping that somewhere along the line I had not changed things so that the coming event would not occur.

The maid patiently finished the last braid and then began to weave them up with small strands of silver. When she finished, Rina stepped aside, hands clasped before her, and said with a faint smile, "You are ready my lady."

Never before had the phrase sounded so ironic to me. I was ready - at least my hair and dress were - but inside I was not. I was not ready for what would come now. I glanced at my reflection once more as I stood and the dress fell around me in glittering waves of pale rose and silver. My reflection looked back at me. A few months ago I had been blissfully unaware of my true heritage and purpose but now I knew. I would never have imagined that I would be standing here, looking like royalty, waiting to attend an elvish celebration as both an ambassador for the Varden and dwarves but as crown princess. Every single aspect of my reflection was perfect from the dress to my cool mask, and I could hardly recognize the girl that had first arrived in this land - terrified and struggling to come to terms with a truth that I had never guessed at.

"Thank you Rina," I said with a warm smile as I pushed those thoughts away. "I hope you will also be at the Celebration?"

"Yes," said the maid with a smile, "I will." With that she turned and left - leaving me to make my own way towards the clearing where the Menoa Tree waited. It was almost time and I would, according to Arya, be given a place of honor beside the Queen and the Riders. Slipping on the light shoes that I often wore in the forest, I left my chambers and made my way towards the front gates of Tildari Hall.

Arya, her mother and accompanying retinue were already there. They all glittered like in the weyr lights with jewels glittering and formal robes in every color you could imagine. Their fair faces were alight with the excitement of what was to come and bright smiles only added to the glittering display of elvish beauty before me. To see them before me, so fair and immortal, made me feel like a common flower jammed into a vase beside flawless roses.

Greetings were exchanged and then I fell into step beside Arya. The princess of Du Weldenvarden was dressed in a gown of pale, icy blue that shimmered as she walked beside me. Her raven hair was pulled back and braided up with many small strands of pearls and silver strands. A delicate circlet was also woven into her hair and she appeared to be an exact replica of her mother to me right then. The two, raven haired and proud, could not have looked any more identical then they did then. Beside me, dressed in robes of shimmering grey, walked Lord Dathedr and his face was set in a smooth mask even as he sent me a small, acknowledging smile.

We came to a stop in the clearing of the Menoa Tree. Arya motioned me forward and I found myself standing beside Oromis garbed in red and black, Glaedr, Eragon who sent me a nervous smile, Saphira and other elf lords and ladies I had met before. Islanzardi moved to stand upon a raised root at the base of the tree, glimmering in the flickering witchlight like a shimmering mirage on a hot day. Nothing felt real and I found myself glancing around the clearing trying to take in the scene before me. Never had I been surrounded by such fair beauty and magic lay heavy on the air almost like an intoxicating drug. I doubled my defenses and tried to ground myself to the real world as the magic swirled through the air.

We waited, silent and expectant, until the stroke of midnight, when Islanzardi raised her bare left arm so it pointed toward the new moon as if, in my opinion, she was summoning a lightning bolt. A soft white orb gathered itself above her palm from the light emitted by the lanterns that dotted the Menoa tree. Then Islanzardi walked along the root to the massive trunk and placed the orb in a hollow in the bark, where it remained, pulsing gently.

Eragon asked Arya softly, "Is it begun?"

The elf let out a carefree laugh and nodded her head, "It is begun!" She smiled then, a smile so radiant that it was at odds with the cool, icy elf warrior I knew. Suddenly she was not the same person - I could not say I knew this Arya for she was fey and seemed to have forgotten the burdens of command and rank. I was suddenly glad for my wards. They protected me, at least a little, and let me look at the world with a clear eye.

So it began. I remember little of the celebration. When I asked Eragon and Saphira of it later they also spoke of how little they actually remembered. It was like a dream when you know you are dreaming but cannot wake-up. There were dances and songs about heroic deeds and quests by ship and horse to forgotten lands. The music was both joyful and sorrowful as if it was celebrating the new but mourning the lost. It was a mixture of real instruments played by skillful fingers and the music sung by the magic. When it mixed together I could no longer tell which was the product of an instrument or a product of enchantment. Whatever it was the music made me feel so light and free that I could have been forever lost among its haunting melody had it not been for Oromis's warnings. For as long as I lived, when asked about it, I would remember that music and I would wish I could hear it again. It entered my heart, my soul, and reminded me of things long forgotten and things that were to come.

There were other things to that I remembered. Creatures dark and strange haunted the shadows and reminded me painfully of the dark things I had once fought in my own land. Many were animals that had been changed by the accumulated spells in the forest and I felt sorry for them. How unfair to be changed by magic until you no longer resembled your kin? A change you had no control over. I could sympathize.

I remembered the wonders that elves had created for the celebration. Things of such beauty and craft that they made me gasp just to see them. There were toys, puzzles, art, weapons and many other things that were all on display during those three days. Runon had created a shield that would not break as well as a beautiful sculpture of a wren in flight that, to me, was the most beautiful thing I had seen her make during my time at her forge. The bird looked as if it was real and I could almost reach out and touch its feathers.

The most noticeable thing though, was the change in the Menoa tree. No longer was it a normal, patient tree. Now it seemed to be alive and its branches stirred even without a breeze and, sometimes, it seemed that the tree also added to the music. The creaks of its trunk strangely in tune with the flow of the music, and an air of gentle watchfulness emanated from it as if it was glad that such a celebration occurred beneath its giant branches.

It was on the third day of the celebration - something that both Eragon and I found out later - that both of us delivered our gifts. Eragon preformed his own story and did it with a skill and assurance that would have made any bard in the land jealous. He did it without pretense or any attempt at sugar-coating but it was so painfully honest and true that no one could dispute that each emotion and event was not true. It was in that truth that the piece found its power and, by the end, I felt tears prick my eyes. Even when Eragon ducked his head and returned to his seat, praise came from many sides even from the cold Queen of the forest who seemed to look upon the young Rider with new eyes.

Saphira was next and her gift was a black stone. She had melted the glossy rock and molded into intricate curves that wound about until one became completely lost. There was no end and no beginning but only one delicate swirl that transformed into another and another. Glaedr to presented his gift and then Oromis and then...me.

I stood, my dress swirling around me in a soft cloud of pale rose and silver. My nerves had been long forgotten in the magic of this place and so I walked to the place I was to deliver it with no hesitation. I really have you to thank for this - you were the one who braved my bad temper and gave me ideas. Thank you.

Raising my voice, I spoke clearly out towards the elves who had gathered, "My gift to this celebration is a song. I cannot say my voice is the fairest nor my lyrics the cleverest but it is my gift to this celebration."

With that I flicked my fingers and, obeying my command, came a soft tune that I had created for this song. It was not a long song nor was it the fairest that had ever been sung under these trees but it was mine. It was a song about letting go but never forgetting. My song was about coming back even though you would not be the same person who had left - a song that made me feel a little more hopeful, a little less afraid and a little more determined.

As I finished and allowed the music to fade away with my magic, I smiled ever so slightly and inclined my head. It was done and now I could rest a little easier knowing that my turn in the spotlight was completed and I had not performed a major mess-up while I was in said spotlight. Many clapped, some called out names like 'Silver-tongue' and Lord Dathedr told me that he would like to hear me sing it again one day soon. Islanzardi merely smiled and yet, in her guarded gaze, I saw that she too had liked my song and perhaps had identified with some of the themes contained in it.

The celebration was coming to a close though and I had not forgotten, even though the music had tried, what was to come. Around the tree, the host of elves gathered and they looked so radiant and so expectant as if what was coming was the best thing in the world. Maybe it would be but maybe, because of me, it might also not happen. Call me a worrier but the weight of the future does not allow for mistakes and I feared I had made one by accident and without knowing I had.

Islanzardi took her place on a gnarled shelf over-looking us and the moonlight glittered on her crown and her snow white dress. "As is our custom, we have met to honor our blood-oath with song and dance and the fruits of our labor. Last this celebration occured, many long years ago, we were desperate indeed. But that has changed and the results of our efforts, the dwarves', and the Vardens', we have come to see a little light at the end of this dark tunnel. Much remains and Alagaesia still lingers under the black shadow of the Wyrdfell.

"Of the Riders of eld, only Oromis and Glaedr remain. However, Eragon and Saphira have come and it is their right to be here as we reaffirm our oath between our races three."

At the Queen's signal, the elves cleared a wide expanse at the base of the Menoa tree. Around the perimeter, they staked a ring of lanterns mounted upon carved poles, while musicians with flutes, harps, and drums assembled along the ridge of one long root. Guided by Arya I found myself seated beside her and Eragon with the dragons crouched behind us like gem-studded bluffs.

When all the elves were settled, two elf-maids walked to the center of the space in the host and stood with their backs to each other. Moving in unison the two elves raised their hands to the brooches at their throats and removed them to reveal the tattoo of a dragon. Every scale was a different color and the entire thing looked terribly alive in the flickering weyr light. Soon it would be alive – a dragon of magic and memory would soon take flight. Fate seemed so heavy then.

The music began. The two elves each lifted a bare foot and brought it down on the packed ground with a soft thump.

Again. The thump seemed so loud now.

Again. They began to move. To dance at such a speed that it was almost impossible to tell which was which.

Faster. They began to sing. The magic began to build and I felt as if the very air was pulsating with it. Faster. Faster. Then a flare of light ran the length of the dragon tattoo, from head to tail, and the dragon moved. Yes dear reader - it moved. My heart beat sped up now in time to the fast beat and the magic that was swirling even faster now and with greater urgency.

It blinked, raised its wings and clenched its talons. It was awake. A burst of flame erupted from the dragon's maw and he lunged forward, and pulled himself free of the elves' skin, climbing into the air, where he hovered above us. The tip of his tail remained connected to the twins below and yet he was also very much distinct. He was alive. Awake and looking at the assembly before him with the air only a dragon could have.

His gaze fell first on Eragon and there it stayed for a brief moment until it turned to me. It looked at me and I felt as if I was frozen by that look. Suddenly I was unable to move, unable to look away as the power of that apparition washed over me like a wave. A voice echoed through my soul and then images came. You must act for us. We need you to complete this task.

I was looking at a grand manor house and somehow I knew this was Morzan's home and, at one point, Selena's to. I was suddenly inside and speeding through corridors lined with paintings and tapestries. I was flying through closed doors and passing through walls and rooms as if I was nothing but a ghost - a ghost visiting a memory. Suddenly I stopped. I was in a vaulted treasure room. Chests lined the floor and were stacked in precarious piles but I was only to look to one. I drew close and the lid flew open and inside I saw a red dragon egg. An egg that was the color of blood and flecked with black veins…

The image changed and I was in Du Weldenvarden.

An arch, a stone arch in the middle of the forest, was before me. Beyond it I could see the forest stretching on but there was something here. I could sense the power here, feel it even in this strange vision. Runes were carved into the stone and I wondered what they said - this place was ancient.

The dragon's voice echoed through my mind. Come here. As soon as you can you must come here and we will take you to the egg. Hurry. Glaedr knows the way…

The voice faded. The dragon turned away and once more I could see the clearing before me. It was as if no time had passed at all and, yet, I could feel the hammering of my heart and feel the thrumming power of the dragon. I could see the manor house and the strange stone arch. Even as the dragon turned to Eragon and my friend stretched out his hand and received the gift of the dragons, even then, I could still see those images. I was barely aware of my friend collapsing as the curse was removed and I was barely aware of the events that occurred next. I was just going through the motions - pretending to be there even though I was lost in what I had seen and heard.

Hurry. Glaedr knows the way. Hurry.