Disclaimer: I have no affiliation to Eragon as a book movie or any other way!!!
Chapter 3
"You must try and talk to him. Even if he doesn't fully understand, he has the compassion, the ability to just listen, that I know you desperately need now," Saphira's voice echoed like rain on cavern walls in his mind.
Eragon tried to focus every cell on blocking her begging,…no nagging voice from his restless mind. He tilted his head back, allowing the morning mist to dust his face just slightly, with it's replenishing dew. He inhaled deeply, eyes closed, smelling the faint hint of mildew that was growing on the damp fallen leaves. Slowly, the voice became soft and relaxing, it was no more than a whisper now. Relieved at the respite from Saphira's complaints at his stubborness, and more than relieved at the absence of Brom's bickering, Eragon allowed himself to drift.
The smell of newly cut hay, back home as a boy, with his uncle and cousin by his side. The first time his uncle had taken him out hunting, the sweet pies that the lady on the other side of the village would bring to gatherings. Then, Arya. Oh, how he longed for her. They'd barely spent time together, but the first time she had come to him in a dream, he knew there would be no other. He thought of her eyes, the feverish touch of her hand, when she had been poisoned by the shade, the earthy smell of her hair and the musk of sweat from grueling battle, but another sensation was creeping into his reverie. At first he couldn't place it, then layers of fog and lack of sleep began to peel away like gauze.
He sat strait up in the saddle, suddenly very awake and frantically calling out to Saphira. It wasn't something he had sensed, which had been his first instinct, it was part of the wonderful things he had enjoyed in life. But this wasn't wonderful. It was surrounded by death and pain and loss. The distinct smell of a burning village. "Ellesmera," was all he managed to call to Saphira before he saw the columns of thick, black smoke rising to the sky.
Even as he quickened his pace to catch up to Brom, who was nearly screaming his name, he called to his dragon and was overwhelmed with joy that she was near and was safe.
"Little one, you are safe, I worried. Quickly, we must get to them before the fire spreads. It is only a caravan. Ellesmera has not been attacked. Do not let your feelings get in the way of these peoples lives, Eragon. They depend on you."
"I realize that now, don't worry about me. Just be careful," he replied.
"You be careful," she said warmly.
A residual pang of self-indulgent guilt was still cling to the young rider's heart as he dismounted his horse and took to the sky, yelling a war cry down at Brom and heading for what appeared to be nothing but a small band of thieves. Deadly and dangerous they may be, they were a far cry from the Ra'zac, and he was glad for it. But the city of Ellesmera was not untouchable, even though it was surrounded by powerful magic, for even as this small battle raged, Galbatorix was strengthening his troops, and making final adjustments to his plan to attack the city from it's weakest points.