"Daniel, I can't find Thea. Where's Thea?!"
"Zara, take Halen and run. My boat is still on the beach. I'll meet you there with Thea! Go, now!"
Please no.
"Mama, don't let them take me!"
Stop. She didn't want to see anymore.
"Fight, Halen. You must fight."
Hal smelled blood, saw Celia's wide, unseeing eyes, and yanked herself out of her nightmares, the makings of a scream dying on her lips. The memory of burned flesh filled her nostrils and she gagged, her stomach churning. She stumbled from her cot, nearly tripping over her sheets, covered in sweat. She had half a mind to call out like she did when she was small, comforted by the hurried footsteps of someone rushing to her side after a nightmare, telling her that everything would be okay. But she choked, embarrassed that she would even consider such a weakness.
Her heart was racing at an alarmingly high rate, unable to shake the feeling that the Tenari were in danger. She had failed to protect her home, and brought the Ra'zac to Berjis' village. Would hers be next? She felt tears prick her eyes, and, at the last second, decided to grab the dagger under her pillow despite the shake in her hands. Just in case. Rationale told her everything was fine, but she needed to see. Needed to be sure.
She quietly opened the door to Denu's room and peeked inside. He was sleeping on his back, snoring gently. Hal checked the corners, making sure they were empty before she closed the door. She tightened her grip on the dagger in her hand, prepared just in case there were any surprise attacks as she checked on Murtagh as well.
Asleep, safe and sound.
Yet it didn't feel like enough. She felt mad, but she walked outside, observing the silence for herself. There were no Ra'zac. Still she patrolled the entirety of the village, her bare feet and nightgown dusty from the dirt. The stables were quiet, the homes dark as everyone else slept, blissfully unaware of the anguish tearing at Hal's heart. Because she did not know if she could do this. If anything happened to the Tenari because of her…
But she pressed on, circling the entire perimeter until she was coated in a thin layer of sweat from the hot night. Every noise made her still with panic, straining to listen for the swish of a cloak or a hiss of tongue. And yet, it was a false alarm every time. Nighttime critters skirting across the landscape without a second glance at Hal. It was all familiar and normal.
There were no Ra'zac.
It was almost first light when Hal fell to her knees, feeling sick in her fear. Her body wouldn't stop shaking, the threat felt, in that moment, all too imminent. How could she ever sleep soundly after what had happened? Yet she kept repeating it, like a mantra, trying to regain a sense of safety and security that continued to allude her. There were no Ra'zac. They were protected by wards that would alert the elves and Murtagh if they were breached or tampered with. There were no Ra'zac. They were safe here. There were no Ra'zac.
Finally managing to at least get control of her breathing, Hal got back on her feet, her jaw tightly set. Standing in the village center, she carefully spun in place, the sun beginning to rise on another day. They had made it another night. And even though she was not so ignorant as to assume that they were any safer with the sun out, the barest hint of warmth from the rays beginning to peak through already felt like they were bringing a sense of security with them.
Hal felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up then and she spun around, dagger raised, and froze.
It was one of the spirits.
It just floated there, like it always did. Hal's grip on her weapon tightened as she pointed it at the spirit, forcing a false sense of bravado in her voice as she asked, "Who are you?"
Halen.
She blinked. That voice…it couldn't be. But no, she was sure of it. It was the same voice from her dreams. The same voice she had hear inside her head when the Shade first attacked her mind.
It is time.
She is coming.
Fight her, Halen!
Hal had thought perhaps she had made the voice up, or that it was the Shade toying with her. But there was no mistaking that light, gentle whisper that, despite its mysterious background, gave Hal a strange sense of comfort. Like she knew it.
Like it knew her.
Hal struggled with her instincts, but the hold this spirit had over her, as much as it terrified her, won out. She lowered her weapon. When the spirit didn't move or attack, she asked again in a much stronger voice, "Who are you? Why have you been helping me?"
Halen.
There was a sudden and profound sense of grief and loss and Hal slowly got to her knees, unaware and unsure of why her eyes were filling with tears. The spirit moved closer, as if just as wary of Hal as she was of it. Hal held up her hand, wondering if the spirit was as warm as she thought it might be. Could she touch a spirit? Would it burn her? Or would her hand pass right through it?
She reached out, not just with her hand, but with her mind as well. Careful, in case it turned on her. And yet, she had the craziest notion that she was safe. Her mind prickled with familiarity, and she had this crazy idea of talking with someone she might have known. And she wondered…
Please. Tell me who you are.
There was a prolonged silence, and Hal swallowed, growing eager.
Halen.
Her shoulders slumped in defeat as her name was called again, this time aloud and from behind her. Hal twisted around, stunned to find Invidia running towards her, her brows pinched in concern. Hal remembered and turned back around, but the spirit was already gone.
Hal quickly wiped her cheeks.
"What are you doing out here?"
Feeling as though to admit that she'd had a bad dream that made her paranoid about the security of her village so she was out walking the perimeter to make sure no Ra'zac had snuck in would be ludicrous, so instead, all she said was, "I couldn't sleep."
Invidia gave her the same irritated expression everyone did when Hal used such a weak excuse, but she did not push for an actual answer like Murtagh would have. Rather, she eyed the dagger in Hal's hand and studied her red eyes and seemed to reach her own conclusion.
"Come, Halen. Let's get you some rest —"
"I need to talk with Eragon," Hal blurted, her mind racing after the interaction with the spirit. "Alone," she added quickly.
Invidia's thin, pale brows went up in surprise. She seemed unsure, as if Hal talking with him without the presence of the elves or Murtagh seemed baffling.
"I suppose I don't see why not? May I ask what this is concerning?"
Hal slowly got to her feet. "That's what I'm trying to figure out."
…
"Halen, good morning," Eragon said slowly. He seemed just as confused to see just her there as Invidia had been by the request. And Murtagh when Hal ran into him on her way out of the hut after she dressed into more appropriate clothing. And Blödhgarm when Invidia informed him. And Hal was very much aware that when she said she needed privacy for this conversation, it meant that all three of them were situated just out of range, but she knew they were close enough in case anything went wrong.
"Good morning, Eragon. I apologize for the short notice. But thank you for agreeing to speak with me."
"Not at all." He scratched the top of his hair, brown, with blonde strands beginning to show through. She noticed that he seemed tan at the moment compared to the first time she had seen him and wondered if, wherever he was, they were currently experiencing summer. Hal rarely kept track of the actual seasons on Illium — sometimes she forgot they even existed. Illium was either hot or hotter.
However, the fact that he seemed rather nervous was almost endearing, a feature very similar to his brother. And she had to remind herself, that for all their feats and prowess and overall skill…they were still just young men, who had borne very heavy burdens at a young age. She forgot she was actually older than Eragon, although it was only by a year or so. But still…
She had never led an army.
Never fought in battle.
Never bore the weight of bringing about freedom to a country from the rule of a tyrant.
And the longer she looked at him, the more she began to see some of that weight in his features. His eyes were strong and kind, sharp and intelligent. But there was a worry there. Murtagh had said he was training the new generation of Dragon Riders. What must the world expect of him that he felt he needed to deliver?
And he was still so young.
"Murtagh said you could be very studious of people you meet," Eragon said suddenly with an amused smile. She blinked in confusion. "He was right. You do tilt your head when you're watching others."
She was rather embarrassed that Murtagh was pointing out her quirks to people she didn't really know, and yet Eragon seemed so fascinated by it that she wasn't as embarrassed as she felt she should be. "I was actually thinking it must be difficult, to be in your position. There must be a lot of pressure that comes with your role. A lot of expected leadership."
He seemed surprised that that was what she had been thinking about. "I thought you were going to say I am much younger than you thought I'd be."
"I did think that, back when we first spoke, but not because I thought your age didn't match your feats. But just that it must make it harder for you, being so young and having such expectations thrusted upon you. And, by extension, Saphira, I suppose."
His smile waned some, and Hal knew the truth of her words had struck at least a small chord with him. "It's not as bad as it would have been if I had stayed on the mainland. Part of me is grateful for that."
"Do you sometimes wish you had stayed?"
"I have moments. When I miss my family and friends especially. Or the sights of the village where I grew up or the cities. I've heard Nasuada has made marvelous progress with her changes to the capital of Illirea, after Galbatorix's rule. Apparently, it's quite beautiful now."
Hal's smile became strained, her mind trying to piece together what Eragon had just said and struggling. "Nasuada?"
"Yes, your queen. She's a good friend of mine. Or was. We haven't really spoken in a while. I haven't really spoken with anyone recently, besides Murtagh. Everyone's so busy these days, even me."
Hal heard a dull ringing in her ears, her chest growing tight. Nasuada? Murtagh's Nasuada? Could it be? And queen? Hal felt like a hand was squeezing her heart and she had to force herself to speak before she let Eragon get suspicious.
"That must be hard."
Eragon smiled. "Not that I'm trying to deflect, but you did want to talk to me for a reason, did you not? I think your situation is allowed to take priority over mine at the moment."
Hal flushed. "You're right, I'm sorry. I shouldn't waste your time."
"No, please don't think that at all." She watched him carefully, noticing how, despite his strange, elvish features, the pink tinge to his cheeks were still very human. Very boyishly charming, and Hal smiled again. "It's been a while since someone asked how I was doing. And that means a lot to me. Truly."
The thought made her rather sad, but she didn't pity him. Rather, she was glad they had a chance to speak about something other than the issue at hand, which she had managed to avoid for all of five minutes.
"The reason I wanted to speak with you, was actually in regards to the dreams you had of me when I was small." He nodded. "Aside from the fact that you were having the dreams at all, was there anything strange about them. Anything that stood out to you? Did you see anything else in the dreams besides me?" Or someone else.
He fell quiet, deep in thought. "Now that you mention it —"
Her heart began to race.
"— the dream was meticulously barren of any such detail," he finished. Hal shoulders slumped. "It was almost as if I was scrying you, but had never seen you before. Murtagh has explained scrying to you, correct?"
"Aye."
"So, then you know that when you scry someone, if they're in a place you've never seen, their background comes up empty." She nodded at his words. "Well that's how my dreams were. And it was the same thing each time: there was no background, it was just you. But you were crying, like you were lost or afraid. And I felt this alarming sense of dread at the thought of anything happening to you. Not just as if you were someone I personally cared about. But like…something bad was about to happen."
Hal shivered.
"Whoever sent me this vision is obviously frightened for you. But even that is mere speculation. I'm sorry. I wish there was more I could tell you."
"No, don't be. I'm glad you acted when you did. If you hadn't…" She faltered a bit, thinking of Celia, of her dream. She clenched her hand tightly, her scars paining her yet again. She didn't know what she had hoped to accomplish with this conversation, and her lack of follow-up proved that she was ill-prepared. Dammit. She wiped her eyes again, trying to laugh and play it off so that Eragon wouldn't look so sad and concerned for her. "Goodness, I don't know why that keeps happening. You must think I'm ridiculous."
"Halen —"
"I mean you faced Galbatorix. Bloody hell, Murtagh faced Galbatorix. And you all fought in countless battles and I'm crying like an idiot over a few dead bodies and some broken bones and —"
"Halen."
His voice was firm, but Hal couldn't bear to look at him as she failed to maintain her composure. She was going to cry. She just knew she was going to cry. She'd had this fleeting hope of who she thought might have sent the dream. Of who the spirit might be. And she suddenly realized that she was pining after the dead like a fool. And she was suddenly struck by how alone she felt. And she knew then that if she did not leave now, she would split at the seams and combust. And she didn't want Eragon to see her when she did.
"Thank you for your help, Eragon; I'm so sorry to have wasted your time," she said, speaking quickly as she broke the connection and ran from the mirror.
She was unsure of why she had such high expectations for her conversation with Eragon. Not that she blamed him, of course. But she had somehow thought that she would ask the right questions. The ones no one else had thought to ask that would lead to some startling discovery. And she had left feeling more foolish than she had thought possible. Because for a split moment, she had allowed herself to believe that the spirit may have belonged to that of her mother. Or father. Or sister. Because even after all this time, she could not face the truth that they were gone.
She had never felt more alone. More childishly inadequate.
What had she really thought to accomplish, stumbling around in the dark with only a dagger to protect her village? Facing Eragon, really processing all that he had done in such a short amount of time, had felt almost shameful. The son of a dragon rider, who became one himself, denied Galbatorix, excelled in magic and swordsmanship, killed a Shade, the Ra'zac, and, ultimately, the king himself.
She didn't even know how she would face Murtagh now. She was still rather unnerved by how he had beaten her the other day, her mind still unable to process how steady and calm his hand had been while hers had been shaking with exhaustion. He had trained all his life in swordsmanship, frightfully powerful in his own right. He doubted himself, and yet she could not forget the state he had been in when he had healed Thorn when she first rescued him. As strong as he was now, she did not forget that he had made the comment that he would never be as strong as he had been under Galbatorix. She knew now, why that was the case, since he had given up his eldunarya. But the two brothers were dangerously strong, and she could not help but be in awe of what they had done, regardless of whether it was wholly good or bad.
Even Nasuada…
Hal choked on the thought. She felt petty and childish, getting jealous and angry over a woman she had never met. But queen?! She could not help but recall when Murtagh had said Hal reminded him of someone, and over time she had come to assume it was Nasuada, even if she didn't know her name yet. But the more she learned about the woman, the more Hal was beginning to think it was either a cruel joke or some miscalculation on Murtagh's part. Because even on a good day, as of late, Hal was struggling to muster up the energy to get out of bed. And yet Nasuada, following her torture, had decided to rule an entire kingdom when she was the same age as Hal.
By the standards set from everyone else, Hal was doomed to fail.
And the fear of that failure was like the Ra'zac breaking her hand all over again. Twisting the bones, hearing them snap and feeling the pain so thoroughly and completely that it brought her out of her body and snapped her back in at the same time. There was no escaping it. But this time, the pressure came from her heart. Like the Ra'zac's hand, or perhaps the Shade's, was squeezing it. Just like in her dream, when she had to choose between the heart attack or being crushed by the waves, and ultimately her inability to act and prevent either one meant she would die either way.
She should've just died with her family. The way she was supposed to. Why did she have to make it off that godforsaken island on her own? None of this would've happened if she hadn't. Or maybe if she had never followed after her mother and the soldier. Would it have been better for her mother to live with her trauma or was it better that she had died instead?
Why?
Why her?
The pressure in her chest was becoming unbearable. She clutched it tightly, gasping as she struggled to breath, weeping with a selfish pity as she walked. And walked. And walked. Everything hurt. It felt like the Shade was ripping her apart from the inside out, and Hal let out a sob in the hopes of relieving some of the pressure.
But all it did was break her heart.
Murtagh was wrong about her. Invidia, Blödhgarm, Berjis, everyone was wrong. She wasn't strong enough.
Not for this.
…
"What do you mean Hal's missing?" Amon said with a frown.
"I mean," Murtagh hissed, "she took off this morning and now I can't find her. I think she's using certain means to keep me from tracking her. Thorn hasn't even been able to sniff her out."
Amon's features looked heartbroken, but not concerned like Murtagh expected. "Aye."
Now it was Murtagh's turn to frown. "'Aye?'"
Amon leaned against the doorframe to his hut, taking up the entire space with his broad shoulders. "She had a nasty habit of running away when she was young. When things got really bad."
Murtagh swallowed, the words a crushing blow. "How bad?"
"It's hard to say, honestly. Some days, leading up to when she would run away, she was miserable. Numb. Cold. Didn't eat. Didn't sleep. And then she would just walk off in the middle of the night, as if she hoped she'd just wither away and be done with it all. Other times, she would be as happy as a newborn, laughing and giggling and playing. And then she'd be gone. Days at a time. She was too good, knew how to hide her tracks from us. Sometimes we found her. Most times, she came home on her own."
"Where did she go?"
"Far as I know, she just wandered. As if she were looking for something. Or, in my opinion, someone."
Murtagh felt frustrated and helpless. By the time he or the elves had realized it had been too long of a conversation, Hal had disappeared. Now, hours had passed, and it would be getting dark soon. He wanted her home.
"She's never truly healed from what she endured as a child," Amon said suddenly, and Murtagh glanced over at him. "That I know for sure. She never talked about it with anyone. I think she suppressed all of it. I can't imagine she's felt a semblance of sane peace after what she saw happen to the Xano village."
No. No, she probably had not. And Murtagh hated himself for not having thought of that. Especially after the way Hal had reacted to Celia's death. The death of someone's mother. The death of someone Hal had cared about. He had been so caught up in this…lightness in his chest at their kiss. He'd wanted it for so long, he had foolishly and briefly had this notion that everything would be fine again. But that was not their reality. That was not Hal's reality. And he felt selfish for assuming the kiss would change her perspective in the wake of such tragedy.
"That was probably our biggest mistake," Amon continued sorrowfully. "When she finally began to smile and laugh, when she began to integrate herself into village life, we were all so happy that we thought continuing to press her about certain matters would undo all of that. And she had fought so hard for that happiness, rider. And that's all we wanted, was for her to be as happy as she could possibly be."
Murtagh understood what he was trying to say, but he still shook his head. "Hal and I are close friends" — an understatement, he knew, "—but she still does not talk to me about such things. I know bits and pieces of her childhood —"
"Then you got bits and pieces more than we ever did." Amon crossed his arms over her chest, his expression challenging. "What were her parents' names?"
"Daniel and Zara."
Amon blinked in surprise, as if he hadn't actually expected Murtagh to answer so quickly and so confidently. Then he blinked back tears as he processed the information and covered his mouth with his hand to hide the sudden emotion. In a broken voice he whispered, "Halen Zarasdaughter." He nodded, smiling. "It's a good name. Strong. Just like I suspected."
Murtagh stared.
And realized.
"All this time, and you never knew her full name." It wasn't a question.
Amon didn't respond. "Did she have any siblings?"
Murtagh felt his chest grow tight. "A little sister. Thea."
Amon nodded again, sniffing. "That would explain why she never seemed to mind it when Layla tagged along." That made Murtagh's chest ache. "I always thought she didn't want to talk about her past. Part of me feared her family may not have been kind to her, and perhaps that was why. But I see now, and I think you do too, that perhaps I nor Denu were the right people to push."
"I accidentally pushed her once before and she snapped at me. I'd never seen her so angry."
"And what happened after that?"
Murtagh's shoulders fell as he realized what Amon already had. "She told me about her mother."
Amon nodded. "It's not meant to be nice or easy, pushing those we love out of their place of comfort. And it takes a strong will to do so. She may resent you in the moment. She may say things that hurt your feelings. But at the end of it all, it's not about you. It's about her. And what she needs and what you can provide for her. I think Hal has kept quiet about her past long enough, Murtagh. Now go find her, and tell her so."
"But what if it doesn't work and she hates me for it?"
Amon's smile was kind. "I've seen the way she looks at you. It would take an act of the gods for that woman to hate you."
…
Her father always considered himself a man of the sea. Whenever he brought Hal and Thea to the beach, he would always plant their feet in the sand and point out the horizon. That's where I'm headed. The ultimate act of creation by the gods.
And every time she came to the ocean, that was the first place Hal looked. She liked to imagine her father out there somewhere, marveling at what wonders existed at the place where the ocean and the sky met. She had always hoped to see it with him someday. But now, she wasn't sure she'd even get to see it herself.
She stood with her feet firmly planted. Somewhere, just out of her line of sight, also sat Uden. Her home. So close, and yet it felt like they were worlds apart. The wind was quiet today, easing into a cool, nighttime breeze. It was dangerous, she knew, stepping outside the confines of the wards when there could very well be Ra'zac on her at any moment. But she felt less stressed about it as long as she was alone. Part of her could not help but wonder what would happen if she built a boat and sailed away on her own right now. While she was sure the others were looking for her, she had been careful about using her magic to cloak her whereabouts like she had been taught. Maybe they would never suspect she had even left the island, giving her a head start.
She felt like a coward, considering running away. But more and more the idea seemed tempting, if only for the notion that the Ra'zac, and perhaps even the Shade, would track her down and it would pull their attention away from the villages. If she was on her own, would it really be so bad if they caught her? Eragon seemed to think so — but what if she ceased to exist altogether?
Would everyone be safe from her then?
She felt like her training was getting her nowhere. She couldn't best Murtagh in battle, and she was still a novice at magic. What hope did she have of killing a Shade if it came down to it?
Hal had never before felt such despair at her own helplessness. When her village had perished, it had all happened so fast that it would take months for the events to actually process in her mind. But this? This drawn out game of cat and mouse where she was the mouse was frightening and cruel. And it was putting the lives of people she cared about at risk. And she could not — could not — let any harm come to her village.
Any means necessary.
Right?
Hal stared up at the sky, the stars breathtaking and mesmerizing and dazzling and bright in all of their splendor and glory. Too many to count, populating the ink black sky by the thousands. She closed her eyes, a ritual of hers when she came to this spot. When she needed to get out on her own for a bit. And like always, she wondered if she could touch the stars. She had never thought to ask Blödhgarm during any of her teachings. They had always reached out to the life around them, the trees, the animals, the very island itself. But what about the sky above? If she tried, could Hal reach the stars? And if she did, would she find her family? Would she find Celia? Would they forgive her for what she had done to them?
She breathed slowly.
She could feel the wind shifting around her and listened to it, imagined it lifting her off the ground and towards the heavens. A sound in the distance caught her attention, the sound of something beating against that of the wind. Wings.
She sighed.
She figured it was only a matter of time before they found her, but she'd thought she'd at least have another day or two. She wondered what had ultimately given her away.
There was no point in running or hiding, so she removed her wards and waited for Thorn to pick up her scent. But she looked up at the stars one last time, and imagined that they were looking right back. Waiting with open arms, for her to join them.
By the time Thorn landed, Hal felt moderately composed, even if it was largely a pretense. She knew Murtagh would be worried, so she would let him know she had a lapse in judgement and needed space. It was perfectly reasonable, all things considering.
But Murtagh didn't rush to her quite like she imagined he would have under normal conditions. Rather, Thorn walked closer to her before turning to face the ocean and crouching down. She looked up at Murtagh, his expression unreadable. He didn't speak. All he did was hold out his hand.
He meant for her to climb up. And Hal had multiple reasons as to why she did not want to, and all of them consisted of the fact that her feet would have to leave the ground. She knew Murtagh knew this, and yet he held out his hand anyway, his face still neutral, still not speaking.
She wanted to ask him why. Why he had chosen to come. Why he had chosen to stay. Why he thought she could do this. Why he had taken any interest in her at all. Why he even bothered. Why he even cared.
She stared at him, wondering what he saw in her that he felt made her even worth his time. He could've had a leader. A queen. And instead he got a coward.
Ashamed of her own feelings, Hal lowered her head, taking a step back in preparation to refuse him. To tell him to go home. But something pressed against her back, stopping her with a surprising amount of force even though it didn't feel all that heavy. She turned and saw that it was Thorn's tail.
She looked over at the dragon, who's red eyes held the same resolution as his rider's. And she hated the fear that she was sure reflected in her own.
Why?
Why her?
Still unable to look Murtagh in the eye, she threw her hand up and took his before she could doubt herself further. His grip was strong, and he pulled her up with ease, wrapping an arm around her waist to help her keep her balance as she swung one leg over to Thorn's other side. Already she felt like she was immensely high up, and she could feel her heart race with nerves.
Murtagh pulled her into his chest and she flushed at the contact as he took her hand and had her grip the pommel of Thorn's saddle. But all she could focus on was how warm his body was. She could feel the heat through her thin top, his chin practically resting on her shoulder. She tilted her head away from him, hating herself. If he noticed her slight, he didn't say or do anything.
Thorn rose to his feet and Hal felt like she was going to be sick. As he spread his wings, she squeezed her eyes shut, her stomach rolling horrifically as he took flight.
She had made a terrible mistake.
The wind rushing past them was unlike anything she had ever felt. Not even riding Nani could she reach such speeds. She gripped the pommel tightly, grateful that Murtagh had at least thought to put her up front. His presence behind her was most welcoming as Thorn climbed higher at a slight incline. She couldn't imagine having nothing at her back right now. She'd fear falling off.
She silently thanked the gods she hadn't been made a dragon rider. She would certainly be a shameful one.
Her hands were shaking horribly, and she wasn't sure if it was fear or the slight temperature drop. She hadn't expected it to be cold higher in the sky. Yet she could feel goosebumps on her arm all the same. And she felt even more uncomfortable in the saddle, her body wound so tightly she felt like stone.
Thorn soon evened out, his wings hardly moving as he rode with the wind instead of against it. Her fear and her curiosity were battling it out, trading blows until her curiosity won. But she hesitated, and that's when Murtagh wrapped one arm around her shoulders, keeping the other around her waist. How he was so comfortable solely holding on to her she would never understand. It was not in his best interest in the slightest.
"Open your eyes," he whispered in her ear, which then gave her a completely different kind of chill. "Neither Thorn nor I will let you fall." She had an inkling that he very much meant the double meaning of the encouragement, but decided not to ask.
She told herself on the count of five.
She opened them on two.
She inhaled.
"Oh my."
It was like a completely different world. They were flying just above the clouds, although they were thin and scattered, so she could see part of the ocean below. But it was like they were flying right into the moon. It was so close. She wanted to reach out her hand and take it. Hold it. But she knew she couldn't.
Thorn began to turn, gradually, and Hal still yelped in surprise, reaching for Murtagh's hand without thinking, the one around her waist. But she kept her eyes open. His fingers intertwined themselves with hers, clutching her tightly to assure and remind her that she was safe.
They flew around the island, a feat that would have taken Hal several days, even on Nani. As she observed the quiet and peaceful land, she felt an ache in her chest. And a love so strong that she thought she might collapse from it. She had always known her island was beautiful. Yet to see it from here…she didn't think there was anything new to love about it that she did not already know. And now, here she was, observing it from heights that, without Thorn, she never would have even been able to imagine.
Hal began to laugh. Then cry. And laughed again. She moved to cover her eyes with her hand, but Murtagh was quick to take it. She turned in surprise as he kissed her knuckles gently. He grinned. "Let's have some fun, shall we?"
Her eyes widened at his implication. "Don't you da —!"
Her threat was lost as she screamed in surprise. Thorn had nosedived so suddenly that Hal had felt her stomach hit her throat. Just when she thought they were about to hit the water with an obscene amount of force, Thorn pulled up with ease so that they were gliding just along the top of the water. Hal dissolved into a fit of giggles and childlike laughter, unsure of why the thrill and rush of it had been so delightful.
Thorn held back less and less, performing twist and flips, even flying upside down, the blood rushing to Hal's head before he righted himself once more. When they flew closer to the island, Hal could see the eyes of animals in their nests, looking up at them curiously. She saw a pack of lovuk, many of them little ones, sleeping soundly in a cave. One of the pups saw them and gave an excited yip. Hal cupped her hands over her mouth to magnify her voice, mimicking the little one's sound and laughing in delight when it wagged its tail, jumping in response.
Hal captured as many moments as she could, her eyes welling with tears once more as Thorn began his final descent. She bowed her head as Murtagh wrapped his arms around her. "Thank you," she said, crying quietly. "Both of you. I will never forget this. Never."
Thorn returned to the same spot he had taken off, and Hal wiped her eyes and cheeks as Murtagh jumped down. He turned to help her off, and Hal had never been so upset to be on dry land once again. Her legs actually felt a little uneven, like she was a fowl taking its first steps. Murtagh wiped her face with his hand, his forehead pressed to hers, holding her steady.
"I'm never letting you talk to Eragon again."
Still high from riding Thorn, Hal snorted before smiling, unable to hide her amusement as Murtagh grinned. When she had quieted down a bit, she asked, "How did you find me?"
"I didn't. Not exactly, anyway. Denu said you might be here."
Ah.
"He says…this is where he first found you."
Hal nodded, glancing to the spot where she had been standing. "Right over there, actually. I was so out of it that I thought he was nothing more than a figment of my imagination."
Murtagh was holding on to her tightly, standing so close that Hal felt her senses getting overwhelmed by him. But she also knew that look in his eyes and sighed. "I'm sorry I worried you."
"If you're truly sorry then talk to me, Halen. I have been patient. I've tried to give you space. If you didn't want to talk, I didn't want to make you. But I can't do this. I can't watch you unravel and sink inside yourself and do nothing."
"I'm not ready to talk —"
"Halen what you are going through is something no person would be 'ready' to talk about —"
"You do!" Hal snapped. Murtagh stared at her, dumbfounded, as she removed his hands from her face, stepping away from him to properly clear her mind. Her heart was racing like mad. What was he trying to accomplish exactly? "Even before we were truly close like we are now, you talked about what happened to you? Your torture, your nightmares, your parents, Galbatorix, even Nasuada in minor detail. You tell me everything. I'm just not strong enough —"
"It had nothing to do with strength," he sharply retorts. "Not speaking on it has nothing to do with weakness."
"How can you say that though?" she asked, her tears falling faster. "Look at what you've done! Galbatorix would only need look at me and I would have told him whatever it was he needed to know. You said it yourself the only reason you joined him was because Thorn hatched for you and Galbatorix saw fit to use him against you."
"Halen —"
"Me?" Hal continued, feeling her anger begin to seep through. "You know before you got here, I was thinking about running away. I was thinking about building a boat and leaving. People died Murtagh. Innocent people are dead b-b-because of m-me. And I will not let another village perish because of my mistake!"
The truth was like a knife, twisting in her side.
"What did you think was going to happen?" she spat at him. "You would just take me on that romantic flight and then I'd spill all my secrets?"
"You need to talk to someone, Halen."
"I really don't. And right now, I especially don't want to talk to you."
She turned on her heel and stalked away, wishing she would be allowed to wallow in her misery alone. But she'd only walked a few feet when something told her to stop and turn around.
"Are you kidding me, rider?"
His expression was unreadable. Hal turned and continued walking, glancing over her shoulder. He was, very much indeed, following right behind her. She reached for her magic when he called out.
"There's no point, Hal. I placed wards on you when we were flying."
Hal froze, stunned. Then she snapped.
"Are you. Out. Of. Your. Mind?" With each world, she hurled handfuls of sand at him, which he stepped back to avoid. "Take them down!" she commanded.
"No."
She found a rock the size of her hand. "I said take them down!"
She hurled it at his head, but his mouth was already moving. The rock disintegrated into crumbled bits of sand and minerals before it ever had a chance to reach him. Hal screamed and fury and ran to him, shoving him back hard enough that he stumbled several paces. But his expression didn't change, and he didn't even put up his hands to block her when she shoved him again.
"I should've just let you leave when you wanted to," Hal snapped, her fury feeding her mouth lie after lie. "Or you should've just stayed up north." His lack of a reaction pissed her off further. "You arrogant, ass!"
She walked away again, and he followed right behind her, Thorn keeping his distance but keeping them within eyesight all the same.
"STOP FOLLOWING ME!"
As far as Hal knew, she hadn't reached for her magic at all. She hadn't even felt it. But just like with that soldier, it was suddenly there. Murtagh went flying as if he'd been hit by a ball of air, landing on his back several feet away, dazed and confused.
Hal stared, actually glancing behind her as if another magic user had appeared out of nowhere and attacked him. But she felt the wind settle around her as if it had been an attack dog, returning to its master's side after doing its job.
She shook her head, backing away from in disbelief as Murtagh sat up, stunned but unhurt. But that did nothing to dissuade the sickness in her stomach. She had attacked him. Even unintentionally, she had attacked him. Just like she had attacked the soldier. Heavens, she could've killed him just now. And the fear, the shame, overwhelmed her until she knew nothing but.
"Hal, don't—!"
She turned and ran.