Chapter 47 – Before We Go

"Marvelous work you did here, Shadeslayer."

Lord Däthedr walked beside Eragon as they entered the training hall. The large area was already taken by the student Riders and their instructors. Besides the elves, that taught their fine art of sword fighting, there were other skilled warriors of different races, imparting their knowledge on combat as well.

"Thank you, my Lord, but I had help. I can say it's a collective effort."

The noble elf tipped his head and remained with a superior smile in his face. A smile that Eragon despised. Then he reprimanded himself for being so intolerant with the other. He is Arya's friend! He reminded himself.

Together they watched the lesson in combat that Yaela was teaching. She paired the students in a way Eragon himself wouldn't have done and it turned out that Hope partnered up with Yuzek, the youngest of them all. Hope had more experience, but she couldn't compete with the strength of the urgal. At least not yet, not until she felt the changes all Riders go through during their lifetime.

The young urgal struck a powerful blow to the girl's breastplate with his sword, and she flew over several feet before landing near Eragon and Däthedr, who looked at him with a hidden question What are you going to do about it? The master took a deep breath and decided that words were no longer the best strategy with his new student. He had instructed all the Riders, of all races, about the difference between their physical constitutions and how to moderate the intensity of their attacks when sparring with each other, until they all could fight in equality. The important thing for now was to learn, not win. All but one followed his instructions without any problems. He saw it coming when the new student arrived in Mount Arngor since the young urgal was expected to become a strong leader before being selected by one of the dragons to be his Rider.

Eragon knew what he had to do. He didn't want to do it, but he had to. He lowered his head and looked up to the urgal through his brows, walking forward. Yuzek, the urgal, hissed to his master, that screamed from across the training hall, "Fight me! If you think you know better to ignore my orders, then you should fight me and see who's better."

The other Riders stopped their training to look at the scene. The elves and the other instructors also gathered to watch, and Saphira shifted on the sidelines.

Be careful, little one, you are strong, but it is never wise to challenge someone who was raised solely to fight.

It must be done. You remember Renir, I need to gain his respect too.

I know. Just… Be careful.

He felt her allowing someone else into her mind and knowing exactly who that was he disconnected from her, for he did not need one more warning note, he had to do this.

Taking off his shirt and boots, but never breaking eye contact with his student, Eragon readied for fighting. He knew he had to be more agile and more strategic, but none of that would avoid injuries. Some blood, however, would show people that he is human after all, alive and real – not a legend sang and told around Alagaësia. It would show Däthedr the same, however. If that was bad or good, it was too soon to know.

After he tossed his shirt and boots aside, he walked toward Yuzek, clenching his jaw, prepared for the hit. Yuzek sped up toward his master, headfirst, expecting to throw him far just as he had done to his fellow Rider. Rapidly approaching Eragon, Yuzek was sure the blow was going to succeed, but as soon as he prepared for the impact, Eragon stood out of the way, like he commonly taught his students to do. They should be ready to divert, to avoid conflict, to cause as minimal impact as possible, so they could protect themselves and others from harm.

When Yuzek stepped into the space that had been Eragon's a second before, he felt his right horn being strongly pulled back and to the ground. Eragon could tell it was a painful pull, since the urgal's lips curved upward, exposing his teeth in an ached feature. The master moved to a mount position, pinning the student to the floor, which gave him the advantage to freely throw punches on his face. The crowd moved uncomfortably around them, Eragon realized through his peripheral vision. Eragon punched Yuzek, two, three, four times, blood splattered from a very obvious broken nose, and that made him feel bad, but it had to be done, so he did. When he raised his left hand for one more blow, the young urgal put his chin on his chest, exposing his horns. It was too late to retract his arm, so Eragon missed his punch and the inside of his arm was pierced by the tip of Yuzek's horn. He felt his muscle open and his arm fall powerless, under an incredible pain. He gritted his teeth but made no sound. Blood poured from his biceps and fell on Yuzek's face, making his appearance even more frightening.

Yuzek took the opportunity to hit Eragon's chest with both hands and send him flying on his back. He stood up and walked toward his master, who didn't have time to get up. Now was Yuzek's turn to punish his opponent. Eragon filled his lungs with a great amount of air, preparing to be smashed when he felt the first blow on his nose. Broken, he was certain. He raised his right arm, the healthy one, to stop the next one, but it wasn't enough, and another fist opened a gash in his left eyebrow, just like Renegade done years before. The difference was that Renir did it accidentally. All right, that's it. Time to end this.

When Yuzek struck another blow to Eragon's face, the master shifted incredibly quick to let the adversary's fist pass by him hitting the ground beside his head. Before the urgal could take his hand back, Eragon firmly grabbed his arm, holding very tightly to his chest. In the meanwhile, one of his legs went around the other's back and the other one around his neck, his feet locking the grip behind Yuzek's upper back. Eragon pushed his hip upward, forming a very constrict choke in the format of a triangle. Yuzek widened his eyes realizing he was in a very dangerous position and tried to wiggle his enormous body to loosen Eragon's hold. It was useless, in a few seconds Eragon watched his student's eyes closing and body relaxing over his own. He let go immediately, and with great effort rolled the other over on his back. He got up and took distance, knowing what was going to happen when the unconscious urgal would wake up from his involuntary sleep. It didn't take long, Yuzek's eyes shot open, and breathing heavily, he stood up and launched toward Eragon. In mid-stride, though, he came to himself, and the shame of losing a fight struck him with extreme force, bringing him to his knees in front of his master.

He was exhausted, and his bleeding arm was quickly draining his energy. He re-established the connection with Saphira to find her thoughts divided between disapproval and concern. Before he could ease her mind though, another one spoke through their connection.

Come home. Arya's musical voice was emotionless. And as soon as she spoke, she retreated from their minds.

Is she mad? Eragon tried to investigate his partner's emotions since he was left completely in the dark.

Certainly concerned. We both are, Saphira answered in a harsh tone.

I'm sorry. He couldn't say more than that even though he knew it didn't mean much, because he had no regrets and would never do any differently.

Move along with this, you're losing blood, and Arya will become restless if we take too long.

Keeping his injured arm tight close to his chest, Eragon walked to his pupil, who was still knelt in front of him with his throat showing. He tapped his shoulder.

"Now can we begin, Yuzek?"

"Yes, Master".

"Very well. Take the day off, organize your thoughts and come back tomorrow with a new attitude."

Yuzek nodded and stood up as Eragon went to recover his belongings to go home to Arya. He dismissed delicately Ästrith's attempt to heal him and left with Saphira. But before he did, Däthedr smiled to him and bent his head in a small reverence. It felt like mockery, but again, it could be that Eragon's tainted impression of the elf clouded his judgment.

When he unstrapped himself from the saddle, Arya was already waiting for him by the river. She was sitting on the big flat rock she would use sit on and motioned for him to sit by her side. He removed the saddle from Saphira's back, who exhaled a warm breath in his hair and went to join Fírnen under a big tree on the other side of the river.

He dropped his shirt and boots on the grass and joined Arya, while she tried her best not to show how discontent she was. She knew that his methods, although not conventional, were highly efficient, so she rarely expressed any opinions, since as the leader of the Riders, he outranked her, but she worried that someday he would get hurt without the possibility of repair.

He was pale, drained of energy and blood, and shaking lightly, also because of the cold. Without a word to him, she reached for his arm and started to mend muscle, nerves, skin, chanting the healing spell, and watched as he relaxed under her touch. As she healed him, a spell to keep him warm was added to her chanting.

With a faint voice, he asked, "Were you watching?"

She sighed and nodded, meeting his stare. Her hands hovered over his face to heal his broken nose and split brow. "You need to be more careful".

She felt a wave of agreement coming from both Fírnen and Saphira, the latter a constant company in her consciousness for when she would join dragon and Rider at Fell Thindarë. It was good to have an ally to all things concerning Eragon since he was still so difficult for her to deal, or even understand. Was he just youthfully reckless or he was so sure he would always overcome whatever he had to face? A little bit of both maybe? Arrogance? That was the thing about Eragon, there was always more than one nuance in his line of thought and, mainly, in his emotions.

And that was why she was so reluctant to tell him about their lost child. What if he blamed her for not taking good care of herself? What if he blamed her for getting pregnant in the first place? Or maybe he would just hold her tight in the intention of comforting her.

He took a deep breath in full use of his nose now that she finished healing him, all was left was the blood starting to dry on his face and body.

"It had to be done." He said a little guilty for worrying her and looked away. She gently touched his chin to make him look at her again.

"I won't argue with you, Eragon. You have your methods, proven efficient in the past, but you really need to think of your own safety sometimes. You once put yourself under Renir's sword, you intervened more than once in bad use of magic and now you bump heads with an urgal. This time you were lucky, but next time you can have your artery pierced or your heart." Her voice was low, controlled, but she didn't know if she was appearing as put together as she wished she did.

He looked away again.

"You know I wouldn't stand failing with them. I'd rather die than have them be less than great Riders."

She knew what he meant. He didn't have to say it, but she knew him enough to understand where his fear came from. She fought the deadliest battles side by side with him, until the last battle. She knew that he would rather die than be responsible for creating the next Mad King.

"It won't happen again." His eyes flew back to hers, and she realized he was surprised she had said that in the Ancient Language, the language they would always use with each other, surprised to see she really believed her statement.

"How can you be so sure?"

"You will not let that happen," she grabbed his face with both hands, trying to show him all the admiration she had for him, and continued, "not because you put yourself in danger for your students, but because you tirelessly impart them not only your knowledge, but also your morals, and Eragon..." she moved closer to him, "I have never seen someone more virtuous and worthy."

It pained her to come to that conclusion when she knew that when she hid secrets so grand as the ones she had, she showed herself unworthy of his benevolence. Blaming her for their failed pregnancy didn't sound like something he would do. No, not at all. Maybe the waters were starting to change, so she could finally navigate safely and tell him all she wished to tell.

She watched as his eyes watered, his gratitude pouring from his stare. It made her want to stay forever there just to wipe his fears away every time he doubted himself like that. She hated what she had to do later.

How could she see right through him like that while he could barely read her expressions from time to time? She knew him enough to probe his soul after his deepest fear and comfort him about it. It made him want to cry, and he was about to do so when the music of her mind touched his own mind at the same time her lips brushed on his. Through their link he felt energy pouring and revitalizing his body, keeping him protected from the cold. He also felt a wave of comfort wash his entire being, he could feel in his toes and fingers that she was covering him with the most overwhelming affection. Eragon was just a prisoner who experienced freedom for the first time, basking in the sun, enjoying every little sensation.

With the movement of her mouth on his, he tasted the iron of his blood and struggled to move away, whereas her grip was firm on both sides of his face. Apparently, she didn't mind the blood, but he saw fit to wash before touching her again. When he communicated his decision to her, Arya simply nodded and said she was going to make them some tea. She left him and went inside the treehouse, breaking their mental link.

He looked at Saphira from the other side of the river and saw her snoozing by Fírnen's side. Taking a deep breath and still feeling the effects of Arya's magic in his body, he stood up and undressed his pants. He took one step in the water and had a pleasing surprise when he felt it much less cold as he expected. It was still Arya's magic changing his perception of touch. He felt grateful once again.

He swam to the middle, enjoying how calm the waters in that river stretch were. When he reached the deepest part, he stopped swimming and turned on his back, to watch the sunny winter sky above him while he felt his body shifting with the soft flow as he floated with arms and legs open.

What Arya said was right, he put himself in more danger than he should have. He remembered how worried he had made Sapphira feel when he was dealing with Renir. The elves would constantly spare him concerned looks and follow him around, and he suspected they feared his student would surprise him with a vicious attack. They overreacted, of course, for as angry and rebellious Renir was he would never attempt willingly against his master's life. Yes, he hurt Eragon with a struck of his sword, but to be fair Eragon was the one who jumped under Renir's sword's trajectory. He was only fast enough to avoid being hit with full force, which would have caused him severe internal damage, even with a dull blade. Instead, his raised hand in a defense position drove the blow to his temple, where it scraped his brow, opening a deep cut and cracking his orbital bone.

Eragon let out a deep breath. Renir came a long way from the constantly annoyed and reluctant apprentice to one of his most trusted Riders and loyal friend. The right hand he needed in the west, in the middle of a magical war. He was his first real challenge as a teacher, but his greatest success. From the experience he had with Renir, Eragon could create his identity as a teacher, he could know exactly how far he would go to teach someone how to be a decent individual, not only to fight and ride a dragon. He did that in the past, and he would continue to do so, now with Yuzek, Hope and the others, and in the future as well, as long as he lived. But perhaps if he kept putting himself in such dangerous scenarios there wouldn't be a teacher for much longer, and his giving nature would be just a faint memory.

Yes, she was right, as usual. Eragon heard in the back of his mind the distinct tone of amusement emanating from Saphira, and another one still new to him, but unlike Saphira, Fírnen seemed also jokingly annoyed by that realization, and Eragon suspected the green dragon suffered from this fact way more than him. He let out a faint laugh, yes, she was almost always right, how could she not be?

After washing the blood way, Eragon swam back to the shore to find a towel and a change of clothes carefully folded on the flat boulder and his dirtied ones anywhere to be seen. He smiled again feeling her spell fading away as he felt the cold wind brush against his wet body. Was she too good for him? Was he in the right to have her for himself being her so grand of a person?

Stop, reprehended Saphira.

What?

For a mighty Shadeslayer, your ability to see yourself is depressingly poor, mocked Fírnen in his resounding voice.

Eragon sighed.

When it comes to Arya, I'm always in the dark, not mighty at all

That thought annoyed Saphira like she was listening to the same dull song over and over again, and if she could roll her eyes in his mind she would, but Fírnen was extremely amused like he had a piece of information shared by anyone but his Rider.

Through the kitchen window, Arya saw Eragon emerging from the water, his strong body faintly glowing under the morning sun. She ended the spell that kept him warm and amused herself to see his slight trembling. She would never get over the sight of his naked body. It was unlike any other she had ever seen, not that she had seen many. He was more refined than any human man and more robust than any elf, of that she knew for sure. But instead of driving her away, it was compelling to her, like he was crafted just to daze her. Broad shoulders, strong arms and thighs, a light layer of hair covering some parts of his entire frame, all his human features combined with his elven ones made him a powerful sight to see, indeed. She sighed and heard Fírnen's laugh coming through their bond.

What? She asked with a little embarrassment.

You two-legged are strange little complicated creatures. She didn't get the entire meaning of his comment but decided to let it pass.

Arya went outside and set the table for their tea, even as freezing as it was in their yard. She appreciated his effort of fulfilling her wish of having a table outside, so they would use it as much as they could. Eragon joined her a moment after, wearing the fresh clothes she put on the boulder for him, his hair still wet was combed with his fingers and was leniently pushed back. His smell of rain and wet grass was stronger than ever, and she took a deep breath trying to memorize it for when she had to leave him again.

She sat down on a chair as he sat on the other one opposite her. He poured the tea in their cups to which she thanked him in a soft voice. She couldn't stop looking at him, gathering the courage to tell him what was decided at the last meeting with Däthedr. Her attempt, however, was postponed since he started speaking after a sip of his tea.

"You are right. I do expose myself too much," he looked back at her with an assuring look, "and I will be more careful from now on, just like you will be, right? No more traveling without the Eldunarí and no more fighting in a war without your guard." She let out a deep breath. Good. One less concern regarding her mate for when she was gone. She smiled at him and nodded. He took the blame for risking his life but also held her accountable for her mistakes.

"You enjoy it when I say you're right, don't you?" He teased.

Her smile broadened.

"Of course, it's a good feeling, don't you think?"

He lifted his shoulders.

"I wouldn't know, would I? You're the one who is always right, so I am going to take your word for it."

They laughed lightly together. It was not true, it was only a joke, of course. The mistakes he just mentioned were proof that she was not always right. Besides, he had taught her so many things from perspectives she would never realize existed if he had not pointed it out to her. He grew wiser each day, partly from his own experiences and considerations, and partly because of the immense quantity of information shared by the Eldunarí. So many memories, even after two decades, he had trouble slowing his mind down for the night, as she often felt him shifting beside her on the bed. Arya learned as well to differentiate his struggles to process the dragons' memories from his own memories and bad dreams. The latter woke him up, making him sit in the middle of the bed, sweating and panting. She would always come for the rescue on that last case, put her arms around him and surround his mind with her own in a soothing song. She trusted Saphira would do something similar to that when she was away.

Eragon then stopped laughing and took another sip of his tea, a smile still in his eyes. He then remembered she had a meeting with her advisor from Ellesméra earlier that day.

"Oh, I almost forgot. How was your meeting? Have you decided on a course of action?"

She stared at him with a serious look, too serious after their light mood from a moment before. He worried once again.

"Däthedr and I are coming back as soon as possible."

She didn't explain why, which followed the terms of their agreement, and he would not ask either. He just looked at her to see an apologetic stare. Eragon took another sip and looked at the river, not concerned at all by their separation. Arya wondered why was that but soon found out the reason.

"We are going with you," he said still looking away.

"What?"

"Our duty is to protect the Eldunarí and the eggs. Some of them are in danger, so we must go."

She exhaled heavily, which brought his attention to her, and he noticed she seemed concerned, also tired of something she did not share with him. Immediately he started to worry if he had made the right choice, if she did not want him to come along.

Arya placed the cup on the table, stood up and walked a few steps toward the river, her back turned to him. She must have been talking to Fírnen, for he heard a soft buzz through his bond with Saphira where some of Fírnen's thoughts usually came through too but in a far way noise. The green dragon then lazily moved his immense mass, spread his wings and jumped to the air, flying away. Eragon watched as Saphira did the same.

We're going hunting, for the trip.

Before you go too far, can you set an appointment with the Eldunarí for tomorrow morning, please?

Of course, little one. Enjoy the time with your elf. She poured sympathy and affection through their bond.

Will do. Thank you.

Eragon stood up and walked to Arya, when he got only a couple of inches from her, he whispered "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier."

She shook her head but didn't turn to look at him.

"You did nothing wrong." Her voice was also low, and she brought her arms to her chest like she was trying to comfort herself.

"I was trying to find a good moment to tell you after I had everything figured out." She shook her head again.

"You did right."

He knew he was forgiven if ever she held it against him in the first place when she slightly turned her face and gave him a side smile. It was sad, and his heart broke again. Why was she sad? Wasn't it all she wanted from the beginning? For him to join her in Alagäesia?

Another step closed their distance, and soon he was burying his face in her loose hair, being intoxicated by her familiar aroma of crushed pine needles. His arms involved her waist, and her hands rested on his.

Never separating from her, with his lips brushing against her neck, he tried to lighten up the mood.

"We will have the time of our lives traveling with Däthedr and Elva."

He laughed and turned her to him still holding her by the waist. She placed her hands over his neck and started caressing his hair.

He leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes.

"When?"

"As soon as possible."

"When?"

"Tomorrow." He clenched his jaw. It was too soon. "Or the day after tomorrow."

"In two days then." She agreed before pressing her lips on his, pulling him closer as to fuse them.

She felt him shift on the bed beside her, but she was too immersed in her waking dreams to react. Memories of their day together filled her mind, sending her in never-ending bliss. They talked amenities and made love all day long, and she wished she didn't have to hide any more secrets from him. Finally, she woke from her dreams and rolled on the bed, burying her face on his empty pillow. She breathed his scent of wet grass and rain combined with a faint smell of sweat, resulting from their prolonged delight from earlier that day. When she sat on the bed pulling the sheets around her naked body, she saw him leaning on the balcony opening, looking at her, wearing soft and loose linen pants, which danced around his legs as the wind slowly blew from outside, his chest was bare in the cold night breeze.

"Are you all right?" She asked in a low voice.

It was the middle of the night, so the moonlight illuminated his back, leaving his face in the shadows. She knew she was being lit by the moon as well.

"Aye."

"Did you have any more nightmares?"

He shook his head. His movement let the light brush his face and she saw a soft smile.

She smiled back at him and stood up, leaving the sheets behind. Arya walked toward him and enlaced his waist with both arms, pressing her warm body on his colder one. It sent shivers all over her.

"Aren't you cold?" She raised her chin to look at him, an inch from his face.

He smiled even more as he placed his hands on her back, causing her more shivers.

"No, you warmed me enough today, so I had to come to catch some fresh air."

She smiled back at him.

"So that's what you're doing here instead of lying in bed, with me?" She traced the line of his jaw with her lips, ending on his left ear.

She felt him leaning toward her touch, his voice came hoarse when he spoke again.

"I was trying to memorize the image of you, laying there, perfect, before we have to go and risk our lives again."

So, he had his strategies too, like when she inhaled as much of his scent as possible, to remember him when she was gone. It pained her that they had to go through all that distance and consecutive goodbyes, besides war and conflict. He must have noticed her hurt when she looked back at him, for he smiled once more, but reassuringly, brushed her hair from her face and said softly to her lips, "One day, my queen, one day..."

Yes, one day they would greet each other for the last time before never parting again.

"One day, my Rider."


A.N.: Happy Thursday!

This chapter is so old, but so old, that it took me a lot of work to edit it so I could include all the new parts I needed. I believe it exists since I started writing this story, so I knew that I would arrive here at some point.

Someone asked how many more chapters there are, and I can safely say that I have planned more 8 chapters, but I could be 10 more, never more than 12. Or 15. No, I'm not writing more than 10, I promise.

Thank you for the reviews and the favorites!

I'll see you next Thursday, or maybe before that. Bye!