Chapter 61 – Rebirth
The burning men kept calling for him. Shadeslayer!, they called in their agonizing voices. It took him a minute to realize they weren't enemies. Battling the muddy ground, he tried to run to them, but he slipped and fell buried in mud and blood.
He tried to reach for Saphira's mind, but there was a void where she used to be. Kneeling in that gruesome mixture, he looked around, lost, in desperation. There was no one there with him. Eragon was all alone.
Seeing him battling his mind was torture. The color had vanished from his cheeks and a layer of sweat covered his skin. Whenever she tried to pierce through his defenses, she was welcomed with thorns and poison ivy. His mind was a strong one, even when his body was debilitated.
Feeling disturbed and powerless, Arya got up from the chair she had been sitting on for the last two days and went outside. Two pairs of expectant eyes followed her steps as she walked through the house. Thom and Amara were there. She didn't remember seeing them arrive. Elva was there as well, sitting in a corner, trying to keep her thoughts to herself.
After the win against Bachel, Eragon had fallen into a deep slumber, caused by the witch's last effort to take him. She cast through Brisingr her signature spell, the one that turned the mind one's own prison. Eragon was stuck in his nightmares, the ones that haunted him for the past twenty years, the difference was that she couldn't take him to that sandy beach he loved so much. Saphira was locked outside as well, withering with sorrow.
The fight in Ceunon ended sooner than expected. As soon as Bachel fell, the oaths swore by her soldiers were broken, releasing them from the obligation of fighting. The majority dropped their weapons and surrendered. Many citizens died in the confrontation, however. Some of Carvahall's most esteemed inhabitants perished in the streets of Ceunon, as Arya was told.
The citizens that stayed in Carvahall were attacked by Bachel, as Arya discovered later, and that was why Renir and Vance confronted them alone. They arrived at the city expecting to see Eragon and Saphira but found the fortress violated and several people gravely injured or dead. Bachel had just started her way of destruction toward Ilirea.
Take me to the city, Fírnen, please.
With a sympathetic look, the dragon waited until she was ready to go and took her away. She needed help, for him and herself.
The ones who came from Ceunon to aid the people of Carvahall kept themselves busy in the fortress, where Arya expected to see Angela. She left Fírnen outside and went into the building. There was a frantic come and go.
Besides Thom and Amara, the only Rider in Carvahall was Avelina. As she passed by Arya, their eyes met, but she didn't stop. A stinging sensation crippled Arya's heart. Because of her, Renir was dead. Because of her, Eragon was about to die. Her choices led to death, just like her prophecy predicted.
Arya took a deep breath to placate the pain and went to the dining hall. There, she saw long tables full of volunteers restoring their energy. Arya located Angela at a table by the farthest wall, so she went to her and stood in front of the herbalist, stopping the fork halfway to her mouth. Arya didn't have to say anything, for the wise one was the most perceptive being she had ever met. Angela excused herself to her companion and left the fortress with Arya at her heels. They walked for several yards until they were surrounded by trees behind the fortress.
"How is he?" Angela asked without emotion.
"The same."
The herbalist took a deep breath closing her eyes.
"You wish to ask me about the prophecy, don't you, your majesty? The part about loss."
"I do, wise one." Arya looked around but saw no one, still, she protected their conversation from prying ears. "I believe part of it has materialized already. I feel the pain coming from love with every step I take. And death came my way already."
"It did?"
"I had a miscarriage months ago. At the time, I thought that was the loss spoken in the prophecy."
Angela's expression that was already grave became even more severe.
"I see."
"Did you know about that?"
She shook her head.
"I can't claim I didn't suspect something like that could happen, but no, I didn't know."
Arya swallowed painfully.
"And now I'm about to lose again. Did I read it wrong?"
Arya sighed. What was she doing? Angela had nothing to do with her loss or her relationship. She had only read the dragon bones, not created Arya's whole destiny. It was silly to think she could help ease her concerns.
"I guess…" Arya hesitated, digging her nails into her palms. "What I am trying to ask you is if there's more than one interpretation to the prophecy. I mean… I know it's subjective since the future is not set for it changes by our choices, but what if it happens more than once."
Angela did what Arya would never expect. First, she grabbed Arya's hands in hers. Then she smiled with sympathy and said, "You lost and lost again over your entire life. If you wish to know if you will lose him as well, all I can say is I don't know. Sincerely. But he is worth the effort to keep him alive, just don't tell him I said that if he wakes up."
Arya thought about those words He is worth it and remembered the prophecy Love will always mean pain. Was her love for him worth the pain of losing a child? She would never sacrifice a child on behalf of her feelings toward someone, but again, that child would never exist if she didn't love him. Oh, and she loved him. It was easy now to navigate that feeling, to bathe in her love for him, even if they were separated. It was what kept her fighting for a better future most of the days when the world seemed against her. The only thought in her mind was that she had to keep the peace and achieve her freedom so she could be with him forever. If loving meant losing, then she would have to endure. And how afraid she was of losing him.
She smiled back, a sad smile, and nodded.
"I know. I just wasn't expecting this much pain."
Her left hand let go of Angela's and landed on her flat stomach. Her fingers caressed the soft cloth of her tunic for an instant before retreating to her side.
Angela's eyes were beaming with surprise when she stared back at Arya's face. The wise one was not all-knowing after all.
"You don't say!"
Arya's sad smile came back and again she nodded.
"Does he know?"
"No, not yet. I just found out myself. I claim for your discretion, wise one."
Angela put her palms on her chest and bowed.
"You have my word."
Arya paced around, turning her back to Angela.
"Things between us got more complicated these last weeks. We fought, separated, and I doubted the future I promised I would give him. But when I felt life growing in me again, even so young, I regained perspective. And now I don't know if he will be alive to fulfill his role in that scenario I envisioned for us. How human of me is to wish something I do not know I can have?"
The herbalist let out an emotionless laugh.
"Very. It's the company you keep that spoiled you."
"I keep thinking where I did wrong the first time. In fact, I know where. I acted carelessly, I flew, I fought, I trained. I didn't pay attention to my body. It was all my fault I lost our baby and almost lost this one. And now it's my fault he fell on the battlefield." She felt her eyes stinging when she looked back at Angela.
"Nonsense, your majesty. For all I know, you saved him from a worse fate. Also, I must bring a piece of information to your consideration." Angela walked closer to Arya and looked deep into her eyes. Arya's heart raced, fearing what the herbalist had to say. "You and he are not equals. Producing a healthy child would be a lucky shot." She threw her hands in the air. "Producing any healthy child is already a lucky shot, not only a halfbreed. It wasn't your fault."
Arya's head was spinning. She had heard about stories regarding hybrid children of before. Those stories were told quietly in secret and sworn to be true. Now she doubted everything she knew about that kind of forbidden love.
"So, you say this one won't…? I heard stories…"
Angela shook her head furiously, her curls dancing around her face.
"That's not what I meant. I'm simply preparing you for future heartbreak if it happens. It will be difficult, but as you know, it's possible. Some of those stories you heard are true. Besides, as you questioned me already knowing the answer, the pain for you is the consequence of loving. It will last until you stop loving."
Arya smiled humorously.
"For all eternity, you mean?"
Angela raised her hands again, laughing humorously.
"Your words, not mine. Not mine, your majesty."
"Will go check on him again?"
Arya knew there was nothing that Angela's concoctions and bandages could do to his mind, but she had to keep giving it a try. She wasn't a believer of deities, but she believed in the power of wanting. She wanted him to recover, so he had to.
Angela agreed with a quick nod. Fírnen came to pick her up and take her back to the farmhouse.
Lord Dain walked on the streets of his town, two days after the battle. Most of the debris had been cleaned, and life started to regain some kind of normality. He stopped in front of the tavern that had heavy curtains covering the windows and entered. Behind the counter, the old tavern-keeper arranged his belongings in bags.
"What can I do for you, my Lord?"
"I came to see about Essie, sir." He felt a lump in his throat, as the words were forced out. "And show my gratitude. Your daughter saved my wife."
The old man had a tear dangling on his eyelid as he shook his head. Trying to control himself, he was gracious with the young lord.
"You already did enough, my Lord. Our family will live comfortably for our remaining years, thanks to you."
"The house and the monthly income won't pay for Essie's sacrifice. But I'm glad you found some solace in it."
"We do."
Remembering Essie was all that took for the tears roll down the tavern-keeper's face. Dain felt his own emotion spilling out of his chest. With difficulty, he said "Ismira wished to have come personally to talk to you, but she is still recovering. I'm sure once she feels better, she will want to see Essie."
"It will be an honor."
"And how is she?"
"Also recovering, maybe not as fast as Lary Ismira, but I hope they both get well soon."
Dain nodded and turned to leave, but stopped at the door.
"I already sent men to let Carth know. They have a letter asking for his dismissal from our queen's army."
The old man nodded still highly emotional.
"One less thing to worry about. Thank you, my Lord."
Lord Dain left the tavern feeling like a broken man. Every time he saw his wife's face, pinky and healthy, he would remember the woman who put herself between a soldier and Ismira, who took a sword to the guts, in sacrifice. He hoped Essie turned out to be fine and that she has the full life he imagined her having. Dain had come to think that some people were made for great deeds, even if it's the last thing they do in life.
Her head felt heavy as she had her eyes closed to rest. She was sitting on the same chair as before, by his bed. Her waking dreams were disturbed by careful footsteps that entered the room.
Elva stood by the other side of the bed looking at Eragon with apprehension.
"How is he?"
"Enduring."
Elva looked at her hands that grabbed a roll of parchment with more force than advised. She seemed to be looking for words, but the pain and emotion emanating in the room made it hard for her to do so. Arya decided to start.
"I feel guilty. I should've come when I was called. I should've come when Eragon called for me before leaving Ellesméra. It should've been me, not Renir. Not Eragon."
The Elva shook her head furiously.
"You are wrong. It's not your fault. It's Bachel's fault, and now she is gone. There's no reason for guilt."
"Is that what you feel when you come in here? My guilt?" Arya looked at Eragon's slim and pale complexion.
"I feel many things." Her forehead was creased in pain.
"Coming from him?"
"His pain is not as intense as his fear. I sense the same distress I always feel when he is near but magnified."
Arya sighed heavily and rubbed her eyes with her fingers.
"It's his damned nightmares. He can't escape them now. He's reliving his past traumas over and over, and there's nothing I can do."
Elva took a deep breath to stabilize her empathetic power. She walked toward Arya and held the parchment out for her.
"Avelina asked me to give you this. She found it in Renir's attire as she was preparing his body for the funeral."
Arya opened the sheets and found Renir's rushed handwriting describing some type of procedure.
"I'm not sure what it means," Arya said.
Elva pulled a chair and sat by her side.
"I think you can still catch her if you run. She came on foot. I'll watch him."
Arya sped up out of the house and toward the road that led to the town. Avelina was a few yards ahead that were covered in an instant.
"Avelina, wait!"
The young Rider looked back but didn't stop her walk.
"I don't think this is a good time for us to talk, Arya."
Arya caught up to her and placed a hand on her shoulder to make her turn away.
"I know you blame me for Renir's death, but now I need your help or Eragon will have the same end."
Avelina's eyes beamed with unshed tears, and Arya saw as she suppress a cry.
"I already helped you. I see Elva gave you his notes." She pointed at the parchment Arya still had in her hand.
"She did, but I don't understand what it means." She unrolled the parchment and showed it to Avelina, who hesitated but finally looked at it.
"It's something to do with the spell Bachel cast on Sir Urien. See?"
On the bottom, Renir described the knight's mental condition, and how one could penetrate the mind of someone in that state. In large letters, the word time was underlined. Avelina explained again, "He complained about not having time to finish his experiment on Sir Urien."
Sir Urien was a common man. Very brave, that was true but common. Nonmagical. His capability of keeping his body alive while the mind fought its battles was very low, as it happens to any common person.
"Piercing through Sir Urien's mind was many times easier than accessing Eragon's."
"Yes, but…" Avelina grabbed the sheet and took a better look. "It says here that the victim was in a sleep-like state, which means you will have to be part of his dreams."
"How can I do that if I can't access his mind?" Arya asked more to herself than to Avelina, still, the Rider gave her opinion.
"Didn't he do that to you when you were being held captive in Gil'ead?"
"It was by accident. He tried to scry me and ended up…"
Arya froze from the memory. It hadn't been an accident, now they knew that.
"Did you find out?" Avelina asked with apprehension.
Arya nodded. She had to try, it was her only hope.
"Thank you!" Arya said grabbing her hands firmly. Avelina gave her the parchment before Arya sprinted back to the house.
When she got there, Elva was still sitting on the same chair. Arya rushed to kneel on the bed, and her hands shot to his chest, looking for his pendant.
"What are you doing? Did you find something out?"
"Maybe."
Her hand found the cool metal of the little hammer attached to the chain and pulled it from his neck.
"I need to check something."
Arya closed her eyes and tried to access the magic present in the pendant.
"It changed!"
Elva stood up in exasperation. "What? Arya, you are acting crazy! What changed?"
"This pendant. It was crafted by the dwarves and gifted to Eragon to protect him against any unwanted scrying or mental invasion without his knowledge." Elva nodded, following her explanation. "After the war, Eragon thought he didn't need this kind of protection, but to be warned when someone tried to scry him, so he would know when one of us in Alagaësia wanted to contact him. So, instead of blocking the scrying attempts, the pendant started to warn him."
"All right… and what does it have to do with his condition?"
"I was once in a deep sleep, just like this, but in an attempt to scry me, Eragon inadvertently connected our minds and I was able to communicate to him. I have to do the same. All I need is to communicate with him, so I can bind his true name to something I can control, as Renir describes here."
"Like what?"
Arya looked down, and she understood.
"Knowing about that will definitely change his true name," Elva said.
"I need it to do more than change. It needs to depend on it."
Elva nodded, encouraging her.
"It might work. There's just one thing I don't understand. If Bachel didn't use his true name in her spell, how come the solution is the change of it or the binding of it to something else?"
"A name is not only a name, it's the essence." Arya started, then she spoke the words to end the spell that kept the Eldunarí safe. She grabbed them and placed them on the bed by Eragon's side. "Bachel didn't use his true name because she didn't work with conventional magic, in the Ancient Language. However, this spell, as Renir realized and anyone can by simply trying to access Eragon's mind, possesses the intention of bringing to the surface aspects of the victim's essence that can cause more damage. Look," she showed the parchment to Elva.
Renir had described Sir Urien's delusions as images of his work as a knight, which meant a lot to him. It had memories and dreams about Lord Edd, another significant trait of Urien's essence, as Renir pointed out.
"Eragon keeps dreaming about the war. The people he killed. The people that were dear to him but perished. It's engraved in his true name because it's a big part of who he is, of his essence. Bachel simply explored that. The things that make us who we are can eventually be used against us and kill us."
That explanation made Elva sit back down with her eyes unfocused.
"And how will you communicate with him?"
"I will ask the Eldunarí to access his mind and pass my message. Hopefully, they succeed."
Finally, Eragon was able to put himself on his feet and walk toward the ones in need. The burning men were still calling for him, so he sprinted. His legs were heavy, but he kept advancing.
On the way, he watched as the battle raged on. The fighters stood in pairs, slicing, cutting, piercing each other. At one point, an enemy soldier, wearing Galbatorix's colors, advanced on him. He reached for his sword, but when he unsheathed expecting to see Brisingr in his hand, he saw what was left of Moonlight. The platinum blade was only a shadow of its former glory. Without a proper sword and Saphira to defend him, it was easy for the imperial soldier to pierce through his armor and into his chest with a spear.
It must've been enchanted, for a big light emanating from the fresh wound when the soldier removed the spear from Eragon's chest. His blood spilled, adding to the muddy mess around his feet. Once again he felt, burying himself in his own fluids.
The Eldunarí pointed out to her that when she was unconscious in Gil'ead, they were many, much more than just the seven she had there. Besides that, dragon magic was wild, guided by intention and a mysterious force that even they had trouble understanding.
Arya acknowledged their suggestion but remained firm on her resolution. She needed them to try. Without the protection of his hammer necklace, it would be only Bachel's hex on the way to access his mind.
Her mind was touched by the ancient beings as they organized themselves in their specific manner of communicating. There were many images, some of them were of a young Eragon, sleeping, and an imprisoned Arya. It made her heart race, remembering that passage of her life, but it was their way to tell each other what to do. Soon, the images vanished and she saw herself alone in a void.
It was all dark around her, but in the distance, she saw a shimmering light. She walked toward it to find a dome of faint light, and inside of it, a battlefield. It wasn't raining, but the ground was muddy, and soon she realized that the image she saw was Eragon's nightmare, the one she had rid him of many times in the part.
"Eragon!" She called, placing her hand on the surface of the dome that offered a certain resistance to touch.
She couldn't see him inside and doubted he could hear her.
Suddenly, a piece of information came to her mind. It showed a mirror, and on the surface, Eragon's image appeared, smiling at her. They were on one of their scrying sessions, as it was their usual over the years. She understood, then, that the dome represented the image of him, not the inside of his mind. It was just like scrying, she could see him and talk to him, but never touch him.
Her attention went back to the dome and the scene she saw in front of her. She squinted her eyes to try to discern his figure among the others. It was when a tumbling man caught her eye in the middle of the battlefield. He tried to rise from the mud. Arya could recognize him anywhere. Once again, she called his name as loudly as she could. This time, he turned to look at her.
It is working! She thought. We can communicate.
Eragon saw her. He looked injured in the chest, and Arya's stomach churned to see he was also in pain in the mental realm. He started to step toward her, and a spark of hope was born in her, but then he heard something coming from the other side of the battlefield. His eyes left her and followed the other direction. She wished to see what he saw.
Eragon walked in the opposite direction for several feet until he stopped again. Turning on his heels he looked back at her. Arya thought that there was no time to waste, the Eldunarí would not keep the channel open for much longer. She grabbed her lower belly with emotion. Then she raised her tunic and caressed her soft skin.
His eyes saw her gesture then his knees gave up, sending him to fall on the ground again. In a tug, Arya was pulled back into herself, opening her eyes to see his even worse expression.
"No!" She exclaimed. "I need more time!"
"What happened? Did you talk to him?" Elva asked.
Arya stood up from the bed and paced around with her hand on her head.
"I don't know. I showed him what I wanted, but I don't know if it worked."
Elva stood up as well and came closer to Eragon. His once slightly pained expression now showed a deep crease in his forehead.
"I don't know if it worked, but something is happening. I don't feel what I felt before coming from him."
Arya turned to see what Elva described. Eragon tossed in bed and grunted low. She reached his face to feel his temperature and felt it rising. It was certain that she had caused a reaction on him.
Arya sat down beside him on the edge of the bed and closed her eyes to feel his consciousness. His mental garden was less hostile now, but it was unorganized and quickly changing. It was easy to penetrate his defenses but too uncomfortable to stay there for too long. She had to be fast, again, or he would hurt her inadvertently.
Waking further in his consciousness and careful not to trigger his traps, Arya accessed his essence. Calling out for his true name wasn't enough, for she knew it had changed, so she started to look for evidence of his new essence, and she found it. She found evidence of his Rider side and his teaching vocation, such as his undying devotion to Saphira and his love for her, as it was before. But in the middle of it all, she recognized his grief and guilt for losing Renir and the responsibility of keeping his Riders safe. That was new. After that, Arya uncovered the effect Bachel had on him, how she managed to hurt him with his memories, how it pained him to access that all over again. Right beside that, she saw redemption, hope for a new future. When he saw her holding her belly, another sense of responsibility emerged in his essence, the one of a father. He was a new man because of that.
In possession of all that knowledge, Arya worked on a spell. She bound his essence to his will to see his child be born, and without words, she wished for him to have a new purpose, one that would make him wake up to fulfill it. Her intention was so strong that she felt the garden changing again, making it impossible for her to stand there. Her mind felt great pressure and as the energy used in the spell left her being to his, she was cast out.
When she came to herself, she saw his eyes looking directly at hers as his hand grabbed her wrist. It lasted a few seconds, then he relaxed and let go of her before getting back to sleep.
"This time, he's only asleep. You can see for yourself," Elva said panting and sweating as she had run to town back and forth.
Arya didn't need to see for herself, she knew when he was safe in his waking dreams. The only thing she did was to cast the image of that sandy beach inside his mind he loved.
Eragon perceived two things when he woke up. First was the noise. The hushed sound of low voices in the living room. The second thing was a tenderness on his chest. He opened his eyes and noticed his wound was not completely healed yet, tinging the bandages in pink. It was weird because he remembered healing all wounds on the battlefield. It hurt when he pressed on it, so he figured the magic was still working its effects on him. He sighed. Let's give it time. Time will definitely take care of it.
Eragon! Saphira called. She was near, and he perceived that she took a steep turn in her flight to get to him as soon as possible.
Saphira, he said with relief after being trapped in his mind for too long.
How are you feeling? Don't get out of bed yet. I will call Arya.
I'm fine. I need to stretch my legs. Where are you?
I went flying for a bit to get the blood running after Arya brought you back yesterday. But I'm coming back to you now.
There's no rush. Finish your flight in peace.
I'm coming!
All right. I miss you, Saphira.
And I miss you, little one. Wait for me.
He threw his blankets to the side and realized he was wearing his favorite pair of sleeping pants that he packed to Ellesméra then to Carvahall. When he was carried home, he was unconscious, but now a string of awareness tied him to Saphira, who imprinted in his mind all that had transpired since the battle. Through her he watched from the window in a foggy haze as Arya gave him a bed bath, scrubbing the dry blood that formed a thick crust all over his torso. At times, a tear would fall from her face and mix with his blood, a difficult scene to forget. His chest ached, but not only his physical one.
Rushed steps silenced the voices coming from the living room and soon he saw Arya coming through the door.
"Eragon! You are awake!"
He smiled and tried to stand up. Her hands came to his rescue and steadied him inside her embrace. She enlaced his body with firmness and he buried his face in her hair and breathed in the familiar scent of crushed pine needles.
"My queen…" He moved back in her arms and lifted his hands to cup her face. Her eyes were beaming with emotion.
"You need to get back to bed, you're too weak." Her hands guided him to sit.
If the voices were hushed once, when the visitors heard their voice it became completely quiet. By the time he sat back on the bed, one of the visitors had already entered the room and launched herself to give Eragon an excruciating hug.
"Argh!" He gasped and the other one let go of him immediately.
Then Eragon recognized the person to be Avelina, who had a guilty look on her face.
"I'm so sorry! Did I hurt you?"
Eragon spared her a tired smile.
"No more than before. Don't worry."
If anyone should be guilty was him. Renir was killed without he even had time to get to him.
"Avelina, I'm so…"
She put a hand on his face and smiled sadly. Then she shook her head to let him know it wasn't time for that yet.
His eyes went through the room and he saw other familiar faces coming into the space that was Roran and Katrina's room, all looking at him with caution. For some reason, the expectation of seeing Renir there as well passed through his mind.
"It's a surprise to see you all here," he commented feeling embarrassed by all the eyes focusing solely on him.
"We could say the same about you, master," Thom said with humor, which made the others look at him in reprehension. "What? It's true. Queen Arya had to pull you out from death's arms, you know?"
Eragon laughed at Thom's lack of social awareness, and the room little by little relaxed.
"I know. I was there."
He came close to his master and greeted him, careful not to hurt his wound again. The others came closer too, patted him on the back of holding his forearm. Arya was leaning against the fireplace, just observing with a severe look. Eragon knew what that meant. She was in a mood. Probably annoyed by the crowd that populated the room.
"I believe you all have better things to do than to look at me as you have never seen me, am I right?"
Elva was the only one that stayed. She went to the kitchen after throwing him an amused look. Eragon was puzzled by that reaction.
Arya adjusted the pillows behind his back and lay down to rest. He closed his eyes for an instant and soon was awakened by Saphira and Fírnen's landing on the front yard. He opened his eyes to see as they tried to peek inside the house through the small window.
Little one!
"Hello, Saphira",he smiled fondly. "Fírnen! Good to see you".
It's good to see you, Eragon. You have no idea how much.
His heart was full of tenderness toward them, who looked at him as their most precious possession. He did not know what to say. So he just stared.
Arya was organizing her clothes. For a moment he thought she was packing, folding it all to put inside her bag and leave him now that he was fine. But after a moment of panic, he noticed she was moving in the other direction. Arya was putting her things inside the dresser, preparing to stay.
She had a cold expression and Eragon thought that if she wasn't leaving, then the first step was taking the path of forgiveness. She would forgive him one day for hurting them so badly, but he had to make the effort.
"Argh!" He gasped louder than when Avelina hugged him and felt out of breath.
His sight started to fade to black and he looked for the edge of the bed so he could compose himself.
Before his hands could support his weight, his legs gave in, but Arya's arms were around his waist in a heartbeat. She sat him on the bed and moved to his side.
"You need to rest more," she said.
"Aye, but not now. I need to get dressed for the funeral."
He could tell she didn't like the idea of him attending Renir's funeral after almost dying, and to be honest, it did sound straining in his condition, but she didn't oppose it. Her hands grabbed the hem of his shirt and very slowly and carefully she removed the piece of clothing, as he tried to do before. Then, when she started to dress him in his new tunic, she noticed the spot on his chest under his bandages. Her brows creased.
With the lightest fingers, she traced the reddish mark on the cloth.
"I'm sorry I couldn't heal it all."
He smiled gently and nodded.
"I'm impressed you could keep me alive at all."
Her fingers ran around the bandages and her eyes filled with tears.
"Arya, no, don't cry. I'm all right now. Because of you."
She shook her head.
"It's not that, it's…"
"What?" He raised his hand to turn her chin and make her look at him. "You can tell me."
"Renir and Vance. It was all my fault. And I don't know how can you ever forgive me."
Eragon's mouth gaped a little to hear her admitting such responsibility that in his opinion she didn't have.
It's not your fault, you hear me?"
"It is! I let him fight her alone, it should be me fighting Bachel, not him. Please, forgive me."
"I don't understand. Why are you saying you should be the one fighting her?"
Arya stood up and walked to the window so she would face away when speaking.
"I got your call to join the battle in Carvahall, but I delayed my departure for personal matters. I should've come when you called."
"I didn't call for you. It was a surprise to see you here. A very good and providential surprise, I must say. I should've called, I don't why I didn't."
Arya turned to him narrowing her brows.
"You didn't?" He shook his head and went to stand by her with a certain difficulty. "Then who did?"
"I don't know, Avelina, or even Renir. It doesn't matter now."
"It does, Eragon. You don't understand. If I were here with you, Renir would be in Ceunon, fighting the easier battle, the one suited for new Riders, not here, where he lost his life. I should be the one by your side, not him. I made a mistake!"
Seeing he wouldn't succeed in convincing her that she didn't need to be forgiven because it wasn't her fault, he decided to grant her wish just to stop her trail of self-loathing.
"I forgive you, you did not know what you were doing. Now let us leave it all behind us. Shall we?"
She shook her head vehemently.
"You don't understand. Renir or Avelina called for me and I didn't help him. I knew what I was doing, and I did it anyway."
"Why did you?"
Eragon almost regretted asking that, for he watched as her eyes panicked as the answer was too hard to be given.
"I chose to bring Däthedr to justice even though I knew it will never happen. On some level, I think I was trying to hurt you."
Her chest went up and down in an attempt to suppress a desperate cry. Eragon knew she had a hard time confessing that or even getting to that conclusion in the first place. He had hurt her by ending their relationship after she had lowered her guard and devoted herself to him. Their love was still new, but he had put it to the test that most relationships won't survive. Her reaction was natural in his opinion. It hurt, but it was understandable.
He grabbed her strongly and forced her into an embrace, which was enough to leave him breathless from the pain in his chest, but he didn't care. If she was reluctant and fought him, it was clear she didn't want his compassion, but he was willing to give it to her anyway.
"Shh, stop fighting. Stop fighting. You'll hurt us both."
Between sobs, she finally let herself be held, and he suspected it was more for his sake than hers.
"You've asked for forgiveness, have you not? So why are refusing to accept it?"
"I... I don't... deserve your forgiveness." She cried relentlessly, something he had a hard time watching.
"Yes, you do. You do, Arya! Listen to me." He held her face between his hands. "I forgive you. Completely. And I'm sure Renir would too. He built the treehouse with me just we could be together. He understood, Arya. You must as well!"
Tears fell out of her eyes as she shook her head to answer him.
"That was before I failed you and him, and Vance!"
"He admired you, they both did." He caressed her face. "He forgives you, my love. You're forgiven."
Arya rested her head on his shoulder and let herself be comforted. Eragon was in pieces, for he had never imagined losing Renir and Vance. They were too young. And the potential they had! With each day, he was more sure that he had made the right choice of preparing the pair to lead the Order one day, and now he was left with nothing.
Feeling that Arya cried quietly on his shoulder, Eragon couldn't help himself and shed his own tears, watching the field where his friends perished so quickly.
"I almost lost you," she whispered still facing away on his shoulder.
"But you didn't. I'm here. Too skinny for my taste but alive."
"For both of our tastes." She smiled faintly when she looked back at him, "Which reminds me that you have to eat. May I bring you something before we leave?"
He smiled softly perceiving for the first time how hungry he felt.
"Sure."
Renir's birthplace was miles away from Carvahall. Taking his body there wouldn't be a great sacrifice, for any dragon could carry his weight easily, so the reason for burying him in Carvahall was another. Avelina claimed he had become a Palancar Valley citizen when he was sent to work there. It was true. Eragon could perceive his mannerisms and way of speaking, all very similar to his own and the people he once left behind. Renir had become part of a people he once despised. He had come a long way.
Vance on the other hand wouldn't be buried. While Eragon slept, the other dragons gathered around him to mourn his loss and to make a pyre. It was said to burn for a day and a night.
Saphira took him to Roran's fortress, where behind it, the ground had been prepared for the burial under an old tree. Eragon got out of her back with extreme care, until Arya came to help him get down.
He approached the others who looked at Renir's body laid on a wooden bed near the grave. He had been magically preserved and had flowers all around him. His silver hair seemed even shinier under the faint daylight. Eragon rested his hand over Renir's and felt it cold as ice. His heart clenched.
"Come, sit here," Arya guided him to a chair while the others were standing. It was a small crow, composed by the five Riders, Angela, Solembum, and Elva.
The dragons formed a circle around them so they could have a private ceremony. Avelina started to speak, and Eragon was impressed by her strength. She spoke of the things she came to know about Renir, things not everyone knew. Some surprised Eragon, others simply made him smile with nostalgia. Renir was his first real challenge as a teacher and his biggest success. And that was what he said when it was his time to speak. A few words came out of his mouth before tears tinged his face and he couldn't speak anymore. Another one took his place and then another until the little group had all paid their respects to their fallen brother.
Arya went last. She came close to Renir's body and spoke as she was talking directly to him. Eragon could hear her perfectly, but wished he didn't for her words made him cry even more. She felt sorry for his demise. She was so sorry, that the words formed a lump in her throat. Arya apologized for not being there sooner, for being negligent. Eragon would never hold that against her but suspected Avelina did, by the way she shook her head, tears falling from her eyes. There was an open wound between them, one that would take a toll on them all for a long time.
Then Arya thanked him for showing her the way to bring Eragon back. It was his work with true names that allowed her to save Eragon, and without that he would be lying down next to Renir, waiting to be buried as well.
Then Avelina handed him Brisingr. Her hand trembled when she grabbed the sheathed blade and extended it to Eragon. Brisingr was on the level of his eyes as he sat there. The sword that he had helped craft with his own hands, the one he gave away to the Rider he expected to be their leader one day. At that moment, the sword that had saved his life many times, and also almost killed him, came back to his hands. He took it from Avelina and lay it on his lap, then he unsheathed it. Running his index finger throughout its extension, from the sapphire to the sharp tip, he knew the sword had been his all along. Renir made wonderful use of it. He was the one who discovered its essence, but in the end, Brisingr was Eragon's. But he wished he had never gotten that sword back.