The next afternoon they could see the towers at Feinster stretching into the sky in the distance. The castle and surrounding walls bordered the southwestern ocean with the islands of Beirland and Nía visible on the far horizon.

They stopped at the base of the Spine in the foothills, Syndûr landing on first his back, then his front feet with a large thud that echoed off the nearby trees and sent birds flying.

I don't think it wise for you to go alone. They may kill a suspicious woman without thought, but they will certainly think twice about harming a dragon and his rider.

"Relax." The word came out a croak, her throat dry from dust and rusty from non-use. She took a long drink of water while Syndûr chased a falcon lazily in the distance.

Avira removed her boots and made her way over a small hill and down to the ocean. She let the gentle waves of the cove wash over her hot feet, and knelt and swooshed a bit of white foam around with her hand. After so long in the sky with dirt and grime as her friends, the cold ocean was a welcome companion. She sighed, tilting her head back and stretching her hands over her head.

Enjoying yourself, Little Friend?

Very much so, Syndûr, you should join me. His silence said more than his words, and she could feel his regret. She sent him a smile back and returned to their things.

"I saw the Varden's camp not three leagues past the foothills. I should make it on foot by night fall." She pulled a jeweled dagger and a small pouch out of her pack. The pouch she tucked in her bodice and the dagger she slipped out of its sheath and into her right boot. She took her pack from the saddle and slid it over her shoulders. She had only a few crusts of stale bread and a mouthful of jerky left, but hoped to be feasting at the table of the Varden that very night.

The journey to the camp just outside Feinster was only a few short hours, but every moment was excruciating for Avira. Her legs were sore and didn't want to support her after riding on Syndûr for so long. When she was still some ways off she saw a line of horsemen break from the camp and begin trotting her way. Fear stabbed at her, not helped by the trepidation she had been getting the whole way from Syndûr. She closed the connection between them, her own doubts plenty for them both.

They surrounded her, swords drawn and ready, but not pointed at her.

One of the med looked behind her to the vast expanse of rolling hills that slowly grew into the Spine. "Where did you come from? What is your business here?"

"Take me to the leader of the Varden." Avira was impressed by the strength in her voice.

The man laughed. "You cannot get an audience with the Lady Nasuada-"she choked down her shock at the knowledge that a woman led the Varden. "-by simply demanding one. I will find someplace…comfortable…for you while I relay your request." He motioned to another of his men and waited while the man took Avira's pack and tied her hands behind her back. She struggled against him and the rope he used to hold her.

"What are you doing? Unhand me!" she glared at the man in charge, pulling herself up to her full height. Her hands tied in front of her, the man who had bound her lifted her onto his horse and climbed up behind her. For the first time true panic gripped her, stopping her heart for a fraction of a beat. Without Syndûr she was almost helpless, and currently at the mercy of seven men on large horses still a ways from the main camp. If they wanted to harm her, her screams would be heard by none but Syndûr, who was too far off to stop them in time.

"Be calm." The man leaned over her shoulder and took the reins. "We have no desire to dishonor you, Woman." How comforting.

It took only a few minutes for them to reach the edges of the Varden's encampment. They continued in to its heart, now Feinster castle, and paused outside of a large set of doors just as the sun began to dip beyond the horizon. The men dismounted, and Avira's rider helped her off the horse and to the ground. She stumbled a bit, but he helped keep her upright as their commander entere. A few good while later he emerged, scowling. "Take her in."

She looked at the man whom she had ridden with as he led her into the castle. He was tall, with a mass of shaggy dark hair over broad shoulders, serious grey eyes, and a strong jaw line. His hands were rough on her arm, telling her he worked with his hands. If she hadn't been so terrified, he may have been quite handsome.

At the far end of the tent sat a woman Avira assumed was the Lady Nasuada. She was quite beautiful, with dark ebony skin and almond shaped brown eyes. Her dark hair was arranged in a mass of braids and knots atop her head, and she was garbed in a beautiful dress suited to her stature as the leader of the Varden.

To her right side stood a man of average height, with short brown hair, dark brown eyes, and pointed ears. An elf? A days' worth of stubble covered his jaw, forcing her to reconsider. Could this be Eragon, the only other free rider in all of Alagaësia? She felt another mind brush up against hers and made sure that all her barriers were in place. The man tilted his head and stared at her, and she felt the pressure increase. She quickly switched tactics and pressed back, receiving a flash of distrust before he successfully closed himself off to her.

"If you wish to seek shelter from the Varden, I suggest you continue your journey south, into Surda. There is no place that is wholly safe from the empire, but these are fighting troops; you're likely to get yourself killed if you stay here." Nasuada looked at her, and the man bent down and whispered something in her ear.

"I can be of use to you, Nasuada." When Avira reached into her bodice for the pouch she had stored there a garrison of soldiers – Urgal, dwarf, and human – had blades drawn and pointed her way. She held her hands up, showing them that she had not drawn a weapon. She handed the pouch to Nasuada, her hands still tied before her. "A gift, to aid your cause." Nasuada opened the pouch and tipped it, spilling the jewels into her other hand. "I would suggest, if you chose to sell them, that you do so far, far away from here." From her hand Nasuada plucked an ornate necklace, fashioned of rubies and sapphires, and examined it.

"Where did these jewels come from?" when Avira failed to answer Nasuada eyes her with even more suspicion than when she had walked in. "Lower your barriers and allow my vassal to read your intentions."

"No." Avira felt a fresh pang of fear. The deciding factor would happen any moment. She wished Syndûr were with her, and if the man hadn't been persistent in his pursuit of her mind she may have tried to open herself up to him.

"No one serves the Varden without first being examined. We all have things we wish to keep to ourselves, but you understand that we cannot just trust anyone who wanders into our camp." Nasuada had passed the pouch of jewels to the man, who was whispering something and examining them, probably for enchantments.

"Nasuada, understand this. I have much to offer to the Varden, some of which I will only reveal when I know that I can trust you. There are plenty more jewels where those came from, and I think you will find me a more than capable and contributing member of the Varden. I'm an excellent archer, and I've spent my fair share of time in a kitchen." The last part was true, but only by half. Avira had spent a lot of time in the kitchen snatching bread, and ordering Cook about and requesting special dinners and cakes. Absolutely none of her time and been spent actually cooking.

"I can't find any spell on the jewels." Nasuada nodded.

"Then tonight we will test your skills both a bow and a blade. You will be given a tent, but however this goes, you will be guarded until you submit to an examination by the Shadeslayer." She stole a glance at the man in the corner, and Avira was elated that she had guessed right. A shiver of pleasure went up her spine when it occurred to her that Eragon's thoughts would be free thoughts; not clouded by forced oaths or a desire to conquer. It dampened her spirits when she brushed up against his mind again to find them still locked down.

They removed the rope that binded her with a quick slice of a dagger. Having left hers with Syndûr, Avira borrowed a bow. It was heavier, with goose feather arrows, and had a longer draw length then her own. One of the men set a few rotting tomatoes on a parapet some distance away. Struggling with the large bow, Avira nocked an arrow, raised the bow, and breathed a large breath to calm herself. As the last bit of air exhaled from her body she released the arrow. It caught in a crack in the wall just below the first tomato. Her second arrow took off a good sized chunk of the top quarter, and her third sliced right through the middle of the rotting fruit.

Feeling good, Avira handed the bow to a soldier and met Nasuada's watching eyes.

"Now with a blade. Sorin." She motioned for the man who had ridden with, and he handed her a sword. It was cold an heavy in her hand. Awkward and uncomfortable, the good feeling she'd had just a moment before vanished in a breath.

"I don't….I've never…." She shook her head unconsciously.

"It's equally important to have the use of a blade." She nodded.

"Of course."

Don't fall on the pointy end. She let out a squeak at Syndûr's voice suddenly in her head. Be careful, if I got in, so can someone else.

She glanced around to see if anyone was watching her and had noticed, but the only one looking at her suspiciously was Eragon. So lost was she in her worry she almost missed the first blow.

Duck!

Avira dropped her head just as Sorin's blade whistled over her head. The quick move set her off balance and she went tumbling to the ground. She heard the whistle of the sword coming her way again and rolled out of the way, the blade crashing to the cobbled ground in a flurry of sparks. She managed to get to her knees before blocking a blow that came at her, rattling her own blade and sending the shock of it up through her shoulders. Pushing herself to her feet, Avira spun out of the way of another blow. Sorin was fast, and with every second her heart beat more furiously, causing her limbs to shake and tremble. She pulled the blade to her shoulder and swung with everything she had at his torso, but he was too fast. He easily blocked her blow, twisted his sword and wrist just right and knocked the sword from her hands. He swung at her torso, and she jumped back, tripping over a loose stone, and landed with a jarring thud on the ground behind her. Sorin stepped forward and placed the tip of his blade just in front of her face.

Feeling Syndûr's rage across the bond and feeding off fear of her own, Avira grabbed the blade and concentrated. Instantly she felt the heat, and the sword began to turn orange, then white under her grasp. Fissures formed, starting at the tip and webbing down the rest of the blade. With a flash of pain it was removed from her grasp, leaving a long bloody slash along her right palm. She lowered her head to the ground for a moment, catching her breath. She was aware that the street was completely silent. After a moment she stood, looking directly at Nasuada, afraid of what she would see in the faces of those around her. Twilight had turned to darkness, and Nasuada's face was completely unreadable.

From really short, to really long! I'm separating chapters based on content and cliffhangers. ^_^

Inheritance Cycle, all related Characters (Eragon, Shruikan, Galbatoric, Murtagh, etc etc etc) © Christopher Paolini!

Avira and Syndûr © me